Page 13

Maeve

I blinked as I woke up. My body ached from head to toe. The fucking psycho was gone. My head and face ached, and I felt the nausea from the concussion threatening to boil over. My face felt swollen, and it throbbed as if it had a life of its own. The light was switched off. I didn't know if it was the next day or still the same day.

When I tried to move, I was unable to. He left me tied to the bed. I remember the calm mood he had been in the day he killed the girl. This was it. He would kill me. I sighed and relaxed the good side of my face on the pillow.

Perhaps it was time to end it all. I was tired. So very tired of fighting. What life could I go back to? I had no home, family, education or job. My life was meaningless. This physical and mental pain would end. It would all end. No one was coming to save me, and I couldn't save myself because I was a coward.

A worthless coward.

**

The lock clicked, and my eyes flickered open. The immediate pain started to throb and thrum all over my body. A dim light shone into the room, reminding me of my bedroom at home. The revolving door of men, but this one was the devil that started it all. His shoes clicked on the cement floor until I could feel him looming over me.

“Where is the knife?”

he asked as if he were asking me about something as mundane as the time or weather.

“Wardrobe, under my clothes,”

I croaked out, watching as he rummaged in the wardrobe and pocketed the knife before walking back toward me.

His fingers trailed down my cheek, lingering on the throbbing bruise he’d left last night. I didn’t flinch. Couldn’t. My body was a map of his fury.

The shower’s scalding water still hissed in my ears. My back passage was torn, and my body ached with each breath. My face continued to throb from when he smashed it into the tiles.

He straightened, adjusting his tie.

“No water today,”

he mused.

“Let’s see how long it takes for those pretty lips to chap.”

I guess this is what he meant about losing privileges. He wouldn’t give me any food or water since there was no tray or box on the table. He untied the ropes, but I didn't move for fear of triggering him when he was deadly calm like this.

The door locked behind him. The light vanished, and the real torture began. The waiting. I knew he wasn't done with me yet.

I slowly climbed off the bed and limped towards the door to feel for the light switch. My bladder was bursting, and I needed to use the toilet. When I passed the table, I noticed the small strip of pills. I recognised the size and knew they were the contraceptive pills. He’d taken the painkillers and cream like the petty little bitch he was.

I paused to swallow the pill. The thought of falling pregnant as a prisoner made me shudder. The last thing I wanted was to produce and bring a child into this world. I clutched the wall for support as I sat down on the toilet, breathing through the pain.

As I relieved myself, I thought of how out of character his behaviour was and everything he did two years ago. When he first brought me here, the pain he inflicted on me was similar to tests. He would increase the intensity of punishments. This was different. He kept me locked up like an animal. A pet. Yet, on some level, he had taken care of my basic needs. My chances of surviving his silent rage were slim.

The day was slower than most, and it became difficult to concentrate on my book. The constant hunger and anxiety continued in the form of hearing phantom footsteps behind the locked door or imagining other random noises. The pain ebbed away in the background but he didn't come back.

Not to feed me or torment me.

**

Time didn’t exist in the grey room. Only the slow, suffocating crawl of nothingness. The basement walls pressed in, their grey monotony was broken only by the three books stacked neatly by the bed with their spines cracked, their pages soft from too many trembling fingers tracing the same words over and over.

Pride and Prejudice. The Odyssey. A tattered collection of Poe’s stories. I’d read them until the sentences blurred into nonsense, until Elizabeth Bennet’s wit felt like a taunt, and Odysseus’ journey home seemed like a sick joke.

My throat burned. My stomach had stopped growling hours or days ago, shrinking into a hollow pit that ached more with every breath. I licked my lips, but my tongue was too dry to even wet them. The air tasted stale, thick with the scent of my own sweat and the lingering musk of his cologne from the last time he’d stood over me.

He’s coming. The thought slithered through me, equal parts terror and twisted want. My body was a traitor. It needed water. It needed him. The hole in the wall was forgotten about for fear of getting caught.

I stared at the door. The footsteps sounded loud. The silence had been worse than the pain. At least pain was something to focus on. This? This was just waiting.

Would he bring water this time? Would he make me beg for it? Or would he just stand there, watching me shake, savouring the way my cracked lips parted in silent pleas?

My ears pricked up at a sound, and my spine became rigid as I knelt on the floor.

The lock disengaged with the familiar clicking noise. My breath hitched as my fingers curled into my knees. I kept my head bowed down. The door opened and closed. The jangle of keys before they were placed in his pocket. His footsteps as he approached made my heart stutter.

“How’s your arse doing?”

he said, but the sarcasm in his voice was as loud as my heartbeat.

“I’m sorry for stealing, Daddy,”

I whispered.

“That didn't answer my question,”

he said, moving close enough for me to see his black polished shoes.

“It’s fine, Daddy,” I lied.

“Open up, doll,”

he said, and I lifted my head and opened my mouth.

He placed the pill in my mouth and handed me a bottle of water. I tried not to grab it from him. While I unscrewed the cap and gulped down the water, he walked back to the table to check the contraceptive pills.

“You took too many,”

he said as he tossed the strip back on the table.

“I didn't know what day it was,”

I said, feeling a little woozy from taking the pill on an empty stomach.

He began to blur, and the last thing I saw was his evil smirk.