Continued from Abducted – pt 3. Read it here!
Rick walked in carrying a brown paper grocery bag. Without even acknowledging me, he strolled into the kitchen. I’d been lying in the fetal position for the past few hours and slowly unfurled my legs and sat up. When he came back, Rick was carrying a silver-wrapped package of Poptarts and a small glass of milk.
“Breakfast is served,” he announced with a triumphant smile.
I took the items with shaking hands. My nerves were completely shot after the previous night’s events, and the chains clanked together as I ate and drank.
“There will be an adjustment period,” Rick said, “But, in time, you’ll be more at ease here.” His eyes roved hungrily over my scantily-clad body. “Finish your food,” he said urgently, “I have places to be.”
I wondered why he stayed, if he had to be somewhere. Then I realized what he had planned for when I was done eating. I gulped. Nibbling at the pastry and barely sipping the milk, I tried to prolong the inevitable. Rick glanced down at the watch on his wrist, sighing impatiently. After I’d finished one of the two Poptarts, he took the other from my hands, lying it on the table next to the glass of milk which was still two-thirds of the way full.
“Finish that later,” he demanded. Again, his body loomed over mine. My heart beat rapidly, and I held back the hot tears threatening to erupt from my eyes. He wasted no time. Effortlessly, he lifted me from the couch, spun me around so I was facing away from him, and thrust himself into me. If there was anything to be thankful for in that moment, it was that he only lasted a minute or two.
When he was finished, he withdrew and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the faucet running and figured he was washing up. When he returned, he headed straight to the front door. He opened it, then turned to me and said in a slightly disgusted, aloof tone, “That was alright. I think I’ll find some makeup for you. You look terrible – repulsive, even.” With that, he walked out and shut the door behind him.
I was full of so many mixed emotions. How dare he insult my looks?! But, why did I care if he found me attractive? The more unattractive he found me, the better. Right? I pondered these thoughts and more as I tried to ignore my sore and throbbing groin. Nibbling on the last pastry, I began to take in my surroundings.
It had been too dark to see much last night. There seemed to be no electricity in this house – at least, Rick hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights or appliances. There was an old, dial-knob television set against the wall to her left, but it looked as if it hadn’t been operated in years. A thick layer of dust covered nearly everything in the small room. I tried to avoid thinking about the origins of the carpet stains, and instead concentrated on the closet.
When Rick opened it and took out the t-shirt I was now wearing, I’d glimpsed a few boxes on a top shelf. I wondered if the chain was long enough to make it over there. Leaning over the edge of the couch, I tested the sturdiness of the anchor the chain was looped through. It was made of brass, like the cuffs, and secured to the floor with four, fat bolts. A bent bar on the top, looking like a handle, allowed the chain to slide back and forth along its length, which was about two feet.
The early morning light slowly illuminated more and more detail of my new world. The couch, which I’d thought to be a plain, dirty brown, was revealed to have a faded blue-and-gray plaid pattern. The stains on the garish carpet became even more ominous when I began to make out a reddish pigment. Shuddering, I rubbed my legs with my cuffed hands. Aside from the creep-factor, it was incredibly cold in the house. There didn’t seem to be a heat source of any kind. Only the sunlight, beaming in through the front window, provided any warmth.
I walked around the dimly lit room, seeing how far my chain would allow me to go. I was inches from the kitchen, feet from the front door, and only a few centimetres short of reaching the closet. There was little in the way of decor or furniture. Aside from the couch, small coffee table, and TV set on standing legs, there were thick curtains hanging from the window in a dingy shade of green probably meant to match the carpet’s original color. These, too, were covered in splotchy, dark red stains.
My shadowy explorations led me back to the closet. I struggled to come up with any way to reach the door, but, I figured, if there was something I could use to escape, it would most likely be in there. I’d already thoroughly searched the rest of my reachable area, and there was nothing of use. An idea floated through my mind – one I’d dismissed earlier. ‘Maybe’, I thought, ‘I can use my legs to reach the handle and grab the knob with my feet.’ There was no lock on the knob, so I felt sure it would open, if I could only manage to turn the handle.
It was worth a shot. I didn’t know how long it would be until Rick came back. I guessed it had been about twenty minutes or so since he’d left. Hopefully, that meant I had at least a couple of hours. Still, as I laid on the ground and lifted my legs toward the door, I was petrified he would walk in and catch me in the act. The fear of facing his vile repercussions nearly made me rush back to the couch to sit and wait for his return. ‘No,’ I chided myself, ‘you’re not giving up!’
Using both of my feet I managed to get a grip on the knob. With one, quick jerk, the door swung open. Now, to reach the boxes. Two plain, brown boxes with peeling packing tapes on the sides sat high atop the closet shelf. Also inside, I saw a few more raggedy shirts hanging up, an old, cordless roller-vacuum, and a broken coat stand with three out of four prongs missing. I still could reach anything with my hands, but from my reclined position on the floor, I was able to hook my right foot around the bottom of the coat stand.
With one, swift movement, I kicked my foot out, sending the stand crashing to the ground. My heart thundered in my chest. It had been so silent, the loud noise left me feeling sure someone, somewhere had heard it. My paranoia was increasing. Rick was liable to walk in at any moment. If he caught me trying to escape…
Now was not the time to panic. I hurried to my feet, awkwardly scooped up the coat stand from the floor, and used the one remaining prong to hook the first of the two boxes. With a yank, I sent them both to the ground, spilling their contents across the room. I scrambled to pick everything up again. It was an odd assortment of items – purses, jewelry, pieces of clothing, a bra. I picked up a light pink pair of lacy underwear, stained with the same dark red hue I’d seen all over the house, and I knew. These were his trophies. I didn’t know how many women there had been before me, but, judging by the contents of these boxes, it had been quite a few.
I scanned through the items, hoping to find something I could use to aid in my escape. There were ponytails, ribbons, even some old photographs of what looked like a much younger Rick and pretty blonde woman. Upon closer inspection, I noticed they were actually standing in front of this very house! Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small, brown notebook. It was only about the size of my hand, but as soon as I opened the front cover, I knew this would be something to hold onto. Scrawled onto the inside cover was a name: Paula.
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