Katarina

by Alona Jarden

  No one knows better than I how hard it is to know where surprises will come from. I guess they wouldn’t call them surprises if they were obvious and expected.

  At one of the gas stations I passed, I threw her phone into a garbage bin after I smashed it thoroughly and threw its battery out the window farther down the road, into the big forest appearing to the left of me.

  I drove on. I wasn't about to let anything disrupt the execution of my detailed plan. I knew I had only a few hours before my guest of honor was supposed to wake up. Hours that were supposed to be enough for me to ensure she stayed away from the life she had known.

  Two weeks. I needed two weeks with her in the cabin I’d set up over recent months. Our little piece of heaven where no one would find us.

  I can't remember a single day when Katarina was not in my thoughts.

  Whether before or after that God awful day, she was always there.

  Hell, I’d devoted my whole life to finding her and when I finally had, I’d started to work on a plan of action that, if successful, would in just two weeks allow me to embrace her in my arms of her own free will.

  Although I'd done it before, it might be the first time in many years that she found herself in the arms of someone who knew who she was.

  I had to make sure that the meticulous steps I had built were carried out accurately and carefully. I reminded myself to be careful of Katarina's witty language, for fear that she would make me incriminate myself earlier than planned.

  The road curved to the right and then to the left. My car seemed to be sailing over it on its own. The way to the hut was so familiar. After all, I had traveled there and back every morning and evening lately. For months I'd been watching her. I followed her steps and knew exactly how and when I would snatch her from the lie in which she lived and release her into the truth. For the past week I'd been mapping out every signpost and danger that could emerge on my trip, making sure nothing interrupted my dream before it even began.

  I quickly took another peek at the rearview window, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a clear path both in front and behind me.

  I could hardly believe it was actually happening! The moment of truth. The grand event for which I had studied psychology and specialized in the psychology of kidnappers and hostages. My heartbeat accelerated and the minutes passed as if they were short, impatient seconds that casually trotted along.

  "Everything will be fine," I said to her unconscious body as I took her out of the trunk and carried her into the cabin. I studied the changes the years had bestowed upon her beautiful facial features and nodded.

  "I swear to you, Katarina, everything will be all right now. Just a little more and..." I paused as I remembered she could not hear me and went back to stating the different stages of my plan in my head.

  I placed her sleeping body softly on the big bed I'd made especially for her, tied her hands to one another and both of them to the headboard. I then stretched a soft cover around her eyes and sat cross-legged in the corner of the room, troubled by a million thoughts and worries.

  I knew that she was due to wake up any minute and I wondered what would happen then. What if she wouldn’t cooperate with me? What if her edgy mind kicked and rejected my version of the truth? What if, after all these years, I was not able to make her see the lie in which she had spent her life?

  Damn it. What if my plan fails?

  "Hmmmmm..." She wriggled from side to side half an hour later and I straightened up in front of her, trying to keep quiet as I watched her first reactions to her abduction. "Um..." It was clear that she was fuzzy, but still I dared not say a word to her.

  I took advantage of the fact that her eyes were covered and did my best not to let her know I was sitting there. I wanted her to think she was alone in the room.

  It was important for my plan that she believed she'd been abducted, along with all that was implied by it. I wanted her to worry, to panic and to assess the situation. At least, on the first day. At least, in the first few moments.

  "What the fuck?" She returned to full consciousness almost immediately but, try as she might, she failed to remove her blindfold due to the binding of her hands. "What is this? Who's there?"

  I said nothing.

  "Fucker! I know you're there, I can hear you." She turned her face directly to the corner I was sitting in.

  I still said nothing.

  "I can hear you breathing, you pervert."

  I laughed quietly as she frowned, but still, said nothing.

  "Well, loser, why don’t you say something? How small is your cock that you kidnap me, tie my hands, cover my eyes and you still don’t have the balls to say a word to me?"

  I did everything in my power to keep myself from bursting out laughing. She was so sharp. She might have wiped me out of her unique mind, but she clearly could not change her personality. She was exactly as she always had been. Deliciously nasty.

  "I just don’t get it, weirdo. Did you not research before you decided who to snatch? What exactly do you think you're going to get for my release?" She smiled, but I could easily recognize that she was faking it.

  I wanted to study her responses to being kidnaped and I was fortunate enough to do so.

  Her breathing was rhythmic and quick, she raised her head and tried to loosen the knot around her hands every few minutes, her face wrinkled and stretched again into a fake smile, and her words did not reflect the storm that was clearly swirling inside her.

  "Hey, freak. Do you not understand that I can feel you in the room? Do you really think you'll get a ransom for me?" She rolled with laughter, but it was so obvious that she was scared. "You think you can torture a few bucks out of me? Well, think again, you miserable piece of cow shit."

  "My God," I couldn’t help myself. "Do you know just how filthy your mouth is?" I said to her in fluent Spanish, keeping calm and retaining my self-control.

  "Oh, you don’t speak English? Is that it? Do you want me to translate everything I wished for you up until now, asshole?" she replied in perfect Spanish and went on without even breathing. "I said that if you think my father has any money to pay you ransom, you are making a mistake. And, if you think you kidnapped someone who will be a submissive sex slave, as you probably get by now, you are wrong again. I almost feel sorry for you, my poor, miserable pedophile. Kidnapping me was a big mistake fuck face."

  "Maybe it is and maybe it isn't." I refused to let her upset me and continued speaking to her in Spanish, "Regardless, fact is, your mouth is filthy."

  "And why do you think that? Just because I said you had a miserable little dick? That’s not filthy, that’s me being thoughtful. I thought you should know that it’s obvious, just as you, sitting quietly and pretending not to be watching me, was also obvious. Oh, shit," she gasped. "Just my luck, to be kidnapped by an impotent with a peanut-sized cock."

  "I'm willing to let you feel my impressive tool so that you can put your mind at ease about its size."

  "I...yuck. For a second there I wanted to tell agree, just for the chance to rip your testicles out with my bare hands, but… Yuck. There are things I just cannot touch and, apparently, your shriveled pathetic tool is one of them."

  "You say that now, Katarina, but tomorrow... I promise you that tomorrow you will speak differently."

  "How will I speak tomorrow, you lousy excuse of a human?"

  "You'll speak English, to begin with."

  "Fuck, you are so stupid. So you can speak English?" She immediately returned to the language she knew as her mother tongue, because someone had made sure she’d thought it was.

  "Yes. I speak English, but not today. Today I speak Spanish and, maybe, tomorrow, if you agree to do some of the tasks I have for you, I will agree to speak the language you love so much," I replied in Spanish.

  "You're a miserable, poor, sad man." She, too, went back to Spanish.

  "I'm sorry. I know this is unpleasant, but I had no other choice."

  "Don’t apologize
to me, human garbage, because you will not get my forgiveness. You can keep me, let me go, whatever. It makes no difference to me." Her body language attested to the tension throughout her. "You should know that I’ll make sure you suffer during every second I'm here."

  "If you think your mean words are causing me suffering, you're wrong and, regardless, you know what you can do with..." I paused, realizing I’d almost blurted out something that would have made her understand who I was.

  "I know what I have to do with what, son of a stinking street whore? Go on. Finish your sentence, burned-out match dick."

  "My God, Katarina!" I widened my eyes towards her in utter shock. "Do you kiss your father with that mouth of yours?"

  "Every morning, you septic turd." She stretched a beautiful smile on her face. "I kiss my perfect father every morning with my perfect mouth and I'll go back to doing so very soon, while you rot in prison."

  "I've got news for you, Katarina. You're wrong." I stood up furiously. "You're fucking wrong all the fucking time!" I screamed at her, letting the anger that had accumulated in me over the years out, and left the room, slamming the door behind me.

  Damn it.

  I should not have yelled at her. The only thing she could do was fight or defend herself against her kidnapper. To tell the truth, my anger was not directed at her, but at the one she called 'Father'.

  I knew that if everything would go as planned, she would soon see him as he was. A creature of violence and aggression.

  "Ah, what happened now, freak? Did I touch a nerve? Did your father never hug you as a child?" she laughed while shouting from inside her room, behind the closed door. "Daddy didn’t love you?" she went on in Spanish, but her words failed to touch me again.

  She’d managed to trick me into talking to her, which was not a part of my plan, and I wasn't going to let her stray me from it again.

  She was so smart, so precise.

  According to all the theories I’d studied, if I was indeed a criminal who had kidnapped her, surely all this talk would have driven me out of my mind. And when people let emotions get the best of them, they make mistakes. Mistakes that could lead to a premature failure.

  In the end, almost everyone is caught in their lies.

  She was just so brilliant.

  "Say it, pervert. Own it. You father raped you when you were little, so you kidnap young girls and rape them so you can feel good about yourself."

  "I'm not going to rape you." I opened the door slightly and stuck my head through. "And I'm very sorry I raised my voice to you earlier."

  "You're...sorry?" she sounded hesitant, then turned her head in the direction I'd spoken to her from.

  "Yes, I shouldn’t have done that. This whole situation is not your fault, and my anger is not directed at you."

  "Well this must by a joke! Am I on hidden camera? Really? This whole situation is not my fault?" Her delicate smile made my heart skip a beat.

  "Yes," I replied, thinking I had summarized my apology accurately.

  "You idiot, I don’t need you to point out the obvious, since this situation is clearly your fault."

  "No, Katarina, I'm not the one to blame for what's happening right now."

  "Look, freak, that is the second time you’ve called me Katarina, and I think it’s crucial you know that's not my name."

  "Yes, it is."

  "I'm not Katarina, idiot, and who the fuck are you? Who are you and why will we speak English only tomorrow?"

  "You are Katarina. I am someone you know and someone who knows you, and we will speak English tomorrow because I don’t want you to figure out who I am before I remove your blindfold."

  "What are you saying, ugly, pimpled loser? Tomorrow you're going to take off my blindfold?"

  "Yes."

  "That does not calm me at all, you mentally ill, distraught freak."

  "Why not?" her description made me laugh.

  "Because it means you don’t think I'll get out of here alive. It means you're not worried about me telling the authorities who you are and what you've done to me. Basically, it means you're not afraid to expose yourself to me."

  What a special brain she had!

  "Is that it? Don’t you have a juicy curse or a new and innovative wish for me to die in agony?"

  "Not something I want to say aloud, anyway. I just realized, if I’m going to see who you are tomorrow, maybe I should stop making you want to kill me."

  "I do not want to kill or rape you, Katarina."

  "Sweet lord in heaven, you are so thick-headed! Listen to me well, psycho, because if your IQ is as low as I believe it is... Sorry." She cleared her throat and continued, "Listen to me, psycho…nope. Sorry again." She cleared her throat once more. "Listen to me. You made a mistake. I'm not Katarina, my family has no money to pay you, and I do not speak Spanish."

  "If that's true, why are you speaking Spanish right now?"

  "No... That's... I mean... I can speak Spanish, but I don’t speak the language." She managed to make me laugh again and went on. "Stop laughing, I'm serious." She only made me laugh harder. "You're acting like a dumb child!" Her nervous twisting, still bound to one the headboard of the bed, made me laugh even more. "You know what? Just get out and let me go back to cursing you from the other side of the door. I like it better that way."

  "Okay," I giggled as I left.

  "And do not come back here again tonight!" She screamed her lungs out madly. "Come back tomorrow, when you're ready to speak more clearly!" she shouted at my back.

  "Okay."

  "And only if you're willing to speak English!" she added as the door closed.

  "Sure, whatever."

  "And... Please, don’t take my blindfold off," she quickly lowered her voice, and I recognized that fear had consumed her.

  "All right," I whispered to the closed door, smiled and sat on the couch.

  Her way of thinking had always been remarkable and the way she chose to analyze that specific situation in terms of her psychological conduct was no less than inspiring.

  "Psycho?" she called out to me in English and I didn’t reply. "Psycho, are you there?" she continued using her beloved language.

  "English will only be part of our conversation tomorrow, Katarina," I replied in Spanish.

  "I swear, psycho, I'm not Katarina and you've made a mistake in identity." I couldn’t understand how she failed to see that Spanish rolled out of her as if she had never stopped speaking the language.

  "I believe you, Katarina. I believe that today you will swear by it, but in two weeks everything will seem different."

  "In two weeks?" she returned to English.

  "Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll continue the conversation in the language you love so much." I insisted on not reverting back to English and went out onto the balcony.

  It wasn’t that I believed she would recognize me so easily if I spoke English to her, but I didn’t want to take that risk either. It was important for me to make her believe she was truly kidnapped. I wanted her to hate me before she knew who I was and, because she'd never heard me speak Spanish before, I thought it was a perfect solution.

  I sat down on one of the rocking chairs and gazed at the large forest that lay in front of me. I spent many hours there that night, on the same chair opposite the same trees. I wept with her when howls of distress came from her room. I shrank in my seat as she sent me all the blessings and wishes of a life full of pain and suffering. And, I hoped I was right and that, when morning came, everything would be clearer.

  When the silence finally returned to the forest, I assumed she had fallen asleep. I hoped that when she found out who I was, she would understand that I had no intention of harming her and would play along with my two week plan.

  Two weeks of her life. That's all I needed from her. Two weeks to show her that it had not been her life she was living for a very long time.

  Chapter 3

  Mr. Briggs

  It had never happened before. Kate had never be
en late coming home.

  She was the most responsible and punctual girl I knew, one of the reasons I was so proud she was mine. The possibility that she'd gotten delayed on the way or met a friend never crossed my mind. That day, when she didn’t return home, I knew for a fact that something bad had happened and that I had to act fast.

  "9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

  "Hello? Yeah... Um... Hello... It's my daughter."

  "What happened to your daughter, sir?"

  "She disappeared."

  "When was the last time you saw her?"

  "This morning when she went to school."

  "Sir, in order to define someone as missing, we either have to wait at least twenty-four hours or there has to have been some suspicious event that suggests she is in danger."

  "She never came home from school, her phone is not available, and I'm sure something bad happened to her. I know she is in danger."

  "Has something specific caused you to worry about her?"

  "You don’t understand. She never comes home late. You don’t know her, you don’t know Kate. I'm sure that something has happened to her."

  "Okay, sir, calm down. How old is your daughter?"

  "She's twenty-four years old."

  "I'm sorry, can you repeat that? Did you say your daughter is twenty-four?"

  "Yes, yes, and she still hasn’t come home from school. Medical school."

  "Sir, are you calling to report that your twenty-four-year-old daughter has not come home since leaving this morning?"

  "Yes," my tone became less and less hysterical as the officer’s tone helped me come to understand my reaction might have been irrational.

  "Sir, I understand that you are a worried parent and, without any disrespect, I want to make sure you understand it is now five-fifteen in the afternoon."

  "I understand, but it's very unusual for her. You don’t know her," I mumbled in despair.