Straw Man

by Patrick Logan

  Sleeping had become difficult. Hanna would close her eyes only to jolt awake sometime later. It couldn’t have been hours, more like minutes, because she never felt any reprieve from the exhaustion that gripped her.

  Sometimes she thought about Brett, but not with the same disdain she’d felt even while strutting in the alley, trying to draw a John in, to regain control. Brett had drugged her and raped her, but he’d let her go after.

  There was no guarantee that this would happen here and the more time that passed the more unlikely being set free became.

  Submit. Tell me you love me. I do good work, mama.

  Hanna also thought about her parents and wondered if they were out looking for her. Part of her wanted to think that they would be, but there was no guarantee of that, either. After all, she was an embarrassment, a nuisance.

  And after Jill or Brett had reported her, and the cop had found her plastic gun, she was basically a criminal, too.

  She pictured her dad lowering the newspaper from his face, a look of concern on his features. He would suggest searching for her, quietly at first, but her mother would probably shoot him down.

  Hanna made her choice, now she has to live with it. She’s old enough to sneak out at night, carry a weapon, have sex, then she’s old enough to take care of herself.

  Robin must have noticed her wiping tears from her cheeks because she spoke up for the first time in… a long time.

  Forever, it felt like.

  “Don’t say it, Hanna.”

  Hanna wondered if Robin had lost her mind, that she had latched onto this idea of not giving their captor what he wanted as a final act of control, because this was all the girl ever said: don’t do it, don’t tell him you love him, don’t give in.

  But Hanna didn’t care about control anymore. All she wanted was to be back in her room, in her comfortable bed.

  She would listen to hours of her mother berating and chastising her, if that’s what it took to get out of here.

  “Whatever you do, don’t tell him you love him.”

  Hanna looked down at her shivering, pale body, and ignored her friend.

  I need to eat, I need to drink something.

  She was almost certain that these words had only been spoken in her mind, but a second later she heard a door open, followed by the unmistakable sound of their captor’s footsteps descending.

  The man was back.

  And this time, he wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 47

  The man had brought the raccoon with him again, only now it was stuffed.

  But it wasn’t just a raccoon anymore, dead or alive. Hanna couldn’t recall their captor bringing any other animals down into the basement, but he must have.

  The abomination had a raccoon’s tail and face, but part of the body belonged to another animal. The other creature had red fur, suggesting that it was part of a fox, but there was no way to know for certain. Thick sutures held the two different animal parts together, but it was shoddy work, with the arms of the different creatures not lining up correctly.

  It was a hideous, Frankenstein, abomination.

  He showed it to both Hanna and Robin, clearly proud of his work. It made Hanna sick, mostly because she could still smell the animal’s intestines rotting in the bucket in front of Robin’s cell.

  “See, mama? I do good work. I just need… I need better canvases. Like the ones dad had. Like when we’d come here together. He showed me his work, what he’d do with those girls.”

  Hanna couldn’t make sense of the man’s insane ramblings, could barely follow along.

  Why was he doing this? Why keep them in a cage? Why make that… thing?

  None of it made any sense. Maybe if Hanna had been well-rested, and not dehydrated and starving, she might have been able to see the connection.

  But as it was, it was just confusing.

  And terrifying.

  The man’s grin, somehow similar to Brett’s even though their teeth were nothing alike, didn’t help, either. Not knowing what kind of response the John wanted, Hanna resisted the urge to either condemn or compliment his work. After making sure that they had sufficient time to observe the raccoon-fox, the man nodded and left.

  “What does he want?” Hanna whimpered when they were alone again. “What the fuck does he want?”

  Robin didn’t answer because they both knew, deep down, exactly what he wanted.

  Tell me you love me.

  The interval following the raccoon-fox display was the longest to date, Hanna was sure of it. Even Robin broke. At one point, Hanna watched her friend pull the bucket full of raccoon guts toward her. The girl went as far as to put her hand inside, but thankfully brought it back out empty.

  But just the fact that she was desperate enough to reach into the bucket said volumes about Robin’s state of mind.

  They were both starving now, and Hanna was so dehydrated that her muscles were in a constant state of contraction.

  Twice she’d had to urinate; one time the feeling went away, the other it did not. Hanna was forced to squat, which was incredibly painful on her thighs and calves, and relieve herself. Her piss was a dark yellow, almost brown, and it burned on the way out. It also stunk something foul, and she was forced to use some dried straw to soak it up in order to dampen the odor.

  When the man finally returned, Hanna used the last of her strength not to move away from him this time, but to get as close to the front of the cage as possible. She pressed her face against the chain links, feeling the metal bite into her cheeks and splitting her dry, cracked lips.

  “Please…”

  The man stepped into the light and revealed that he was holding two bottles of water, one in each hand.

  Hanna tried to swallow but couldn’t.

  “Please…”

  Grinning, the John placed one bottle in front of Robin’s cage and one in front of Hanna’s.

  “Tell me you love me,” he said.

  Hanna slipped her hand through the cage and stretched as far as possible. She was thinner and could reach even further than before, but not quite far enough.

  She sobbed.

  “Oh, God, please…”

  To her surprise, the man picked up the bottle and placed it closer to her searching fingers. Thinking that this was a trick and at any second the man would pull the bottle back, Hanna closed her hand around it and yanked it into the cage. She did this so quickly that she nearly dropped it when the top snagged. Turning it on its end, Hanna managed to twist it through and then, clutching the bottle to her chest, she scooted to the back of the cage.

  It was heavy, like a piece of lead and not sixteen ounces of fluid. She knew that it was in her best interest to check the cap, to make sure that it was sealed, especially after what had happened at Brett’s party. But what difference did it make if it was drugged? If she didn’t drink it, Hanna knew she’d be dead soon, anyway.

  After three tries, she finally managed to remove the cap.

  Hanna slurped from the bottle, her eyes rolling back as the lukewarm liquid touched her lips, tongue, and the inside of her cheeks.

  A moan escaped her, and she tilted the bottle even further. More water spilled on her chin and bare chest than she would have liked, but Hanna was unable to control herself.

  She was like a fiend who had gone days since her last hit.

  In seconds, the bottle was empty and in under a minute the feelings of nausea and extreme bloat struck her.

  “Tell me you love me.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Hanna saw Robin drinking, albeit with more control than she’d been able to muster. Watching the liquid pour from the bottle and into the girl’s outstretched mouth did something to Hanna. Something horrible.

  Her stomach lurched and she lunged for the front of the cage. She grabbed one of the buckets and threw up most of the water she’d just consumed.

  “No…”

  And then the rest came up.

  Sobbing, Hanna thrust the bucket away fr
om her, spilling its contents onto the dirt floor. The ground lapped it up as eagerly as she had moments ago.

  “Don’t do it,” Robin whispered. It didn’t even sound like her anymore. It sounded strangely like Hanna’s mom, trying to control her. “Please, don’t do it, Hanna. If you give him what he wants, he’ll kill you. And then he’ll do horrible things to your body… to your skin.”

  Chapter 48

  The John must have known that the end was near as he didn’t wait nearly as long to visit again. This time, as before, he came bearing gifts: a slice of bread and another bottle of water.

  Hanna crawled to the front of her cage as he approached, her movements slow and deliberate. To her right, she heard Robin say something, but couldn’t make out the words. Her head felt swollen, her ears clogged.

  Not that it mattered what Robin said. Nothing mattered now. Nothing but food and drink.

  And getting out of here.

  “I love you,” Hanna croaked without provocation. She hadn’t planned on saying those words, they just slipped out of her mouth. In fact, they were so unexpected that they startled her. But now that she’d spoken them, relief washed over Hanna. “I love you,” she repeated, a little louder this time.

  “No,” Robin gasped, but it was too late. She’d already said the words. She’d already given the man what he wanted. “Hanna, no.”

  The John smiled and he handed Hanna the bread through the cage. Having learned her lesson with the water, Hanna was sure not to gorge herself. She took small bites but even still, her mouth was so dry that it was difficult to chew. The water that the man slipped through the cage next solved this problem.

  It was a strange experience, eating after having gone so long without. And it took over everything. Somewhere, deep down, Hanna knew that Robin was shouting now, screaming at her, but this took a backseat to her consumption. She also heard the sound of keys, which was a more pressing issue, but still insufficient to draw her attention away from the piece of stale bread and the water. Never in her entire life had she been so focused on any one thing as she was now.

  Not during her obsessive pop music days, when learning the exact words of every song of her favorite group robbed her of all her free time. Nor was it as important as passing her sixth-grade geography exam, when failure would mean that not only would she feel her mother’s wrath but also waste her summer in remedial classes.

  “Leave her alone! Leave her the fuck alone!”

  Half the bread was gone by the time the John opened the cage and reached inside. The water was a third done when Hanna felt his arm wrap around her thin waist. As before, in the alley, she was surprised by how strong he was. A man who worked with his hands, no doubt.

  She didn’t resist when he flipped her effortlessly over his shoulder, bare ass in the air. Her entire focus, her being, was a piece of bread and a bottle of spring water.

  “I love you.” This time, the words came out all gummy on account of the bread stuck to her teeth and the roof of her mouth. Hanna wasn’t even sure who, or what, she was referring to in this context, but the words felt somehow right.

  Robin screamed again, this time an incoherent stream of high-pitched vowels.

  Hanna didn’t even look over at her.

  “I love you, too,” the John said, and then slowly started up the stairs. “And you are going to make a beautiful tapestry.”

  Chapter 49

  Robin would’ve cried. She would’ve cried when she saw Hanna’s limp body being carried away, but she had no tears left.

  Unlike Hanna, however, she’d retained strength. Over the week or so that they’d been held captive, Robin had done her best to conserve her energy—this wasn’t the first time that she’d gone a long stretch without having anything to eat or drink.

  After her mother had abandoned her when she was only eleven, Robin had gone three weeks drinking only stale rainwater and a few scraps of dumpster food. But Hanna didn’t have the same experiences. The most important thing that Robin had learned about survival was to never give in, to never give others exactly what they wanted. Once you did that, you were of no use to them anymore. Robin often became whatever the men she surrounded herself with wanted her to be, but as a means to her own end and not theirs.

  This John was no different.

  Robin had seen what the man had done to the raccoon and the fox. And to him, Robin and Hanna were just animals. If you gave in, if you said whatever twisted thing he wanted you to say, Robin feared their fate would be similar: decapitated, eviscerated, and stitched back together again.

  She heard the door close somewhere above her and Robin took a deep breath, collecting herself. This was her chance—she knew the John would be occupied with Hanna for the next little while, at least.

  If I can just get out of here, get to her…

  But that was impossible. She’d already tried, and Hanna had put in five times the effort she had. The cage was well built, solid, designed to hold a wild animal. There wasn’t much a fifteen-year-old, hundred and five-pound girl could do.

  Robin’s eyes drifted over to Hanna’s now empty cage.

  “Why did you say it?” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Why?”

  The John had left Hanna’s cage door ajar. It took Robin a few seconds to focus on the lock, which also hung open.

  And that’s when she realized that the key was still in the lock.

  Robin blinked several times, trying to confirm what she saw.

  There was indeed a rusted key jammed in the old-fashioned padlock.

  Robin looked to the lock on her own cage next and confirmed that they were the same type, same age, too, if the rust was any indication.

  What are the chances the same key will work in my lock?

  She had no idea, but it was worth a shot. Robin scooted toward her left and then slipped her arm through the diamond-shaped opening in the cage. Despite all the weight she’d lost, she still couldn’t reach far enough. Grunting, Robin ground her shoulder into the chain links, forcing her fingers as far as possible. Blood started to trickle down her bare chest, but this didn’t stop her; if anything, it encouraged her to push even harder.

  “Come on,” she urged. “Come on.”

  Robin shoved harder still, driving her feet against the opposite side of her cage. Something in her shoulder tore but she didn’t give up.

  This was her—their—only chance. Hanna didn’t deserve whatever the psychopath in the apron was doing to her. She was a good kid, a kid who wouldn’t be in this situation if it hadn’t been for Robin.

  And Robbie…

  The fuck were you thinking, pulling a knife on her?

  The pad of Robin’s index finger brushed against the metal key, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. One final, desperate shove and Robin managed to hook the tip of her finger into the hole on the back of the key. Breathing heavily now, she pulled.

  It didn’t budge.

  What the hell?

  Robin shook her head.

  Turn it, turn it! her mind screamed.

  Robin twisted the key until it was straight up and down and then pulled again.

  This time, it came out so fast that she fell backward and landed hard on her bare ass. She nearly passed out from the shock of the impact but knowing that this would spell not just her end, but Hanna’s too, kept her conscious. Scrambling, ignoring the pain in her ass and her shoulder, Robin slid the key into the padlock on her own cage. She half expected it to jam halfway, but it didn’t. It slid in easily. Robin allowed herself one final breath and then turned the key.

  The lock popped open.

  She was even more startled by this than when she’d fallen.

  “What?”

  It couldn’t be.

  Trying to free herself of crippling disbelief, Robin unhooked the lock and eased her cage door open.

  The man never came bounding down the stairs as she expected, machete in hand. And with every silent second that passed, Robin inched more of her naked body out of
the cage.

  Then she started to crawl, and the further she made it from the cage, the faster she moved. Their clothes were wadded in a pile by the workbench. Robin grabbed the first sweatshirt and pair of jeans she found, not caring if they were hers or Hanna’s, and slipped them on.

  They were loose and ill-fitting, but they offered her warmth, something she’d been without for days. Robin stood up tall, stretched her back, and noticed that in addition to the clothes on the ground, Hanna’s purse was also there.

  For some reason, she picked this up and slung it over one shoulder.

  Then she started to search for another way out of the dirt basement other than heading up the stairs. Robin hesitated when her eyes fell on the workbench. If there had been anything in her stomach, anything at all, Robin would have vomited then.

  In addition to the raccoon, there were a half dozen other animal corpses in various stages of dissection on display. They had been mostly reduced to piles of gray, brown, and orange fur, all matted with blood and viscera.

  The sight froze her in place but a pained howl from somewhere above forced Robin to move again. Seeing no other way out of the basement, she started up the stairs, wincing with every creak. The door at the top was unlocked and Robin opened it.

  Bright sunlight seeping in through gaps in wooden slats instantly blinded her. But Robin kept moving forward, feeling her way with her free hand in front of her.

  Hanna… I have to save Hanna.

  But when she heard a scream, a loud, ear-piercing shriek, any courage or sense of responsibility left Robin like the squirt of urine that soaked the front of her oversized jeans.

  Robin ran, crashing into a dusty couch and a small table, before finding another door. This one was also unlocked, and she burst through, not caring where it led. The sun was brighter now, and the air fresher, an indication that she was outside.