With the gown halfway off and covering her head, she remarked, “All the men that I have had the dubious pleasure of meeting are after one of two things, or both ... my body or my money. You have already established the fact that you aren't after my money, so what does that leave, Einstein?"
Changing the subject as he noticed the sores between her toes and on the inside flesh of her elbows, along with the all-over filth of her body in general, he asked, “Why didn't you shower before you put the clean gown on?"
She threw the gown onto the floor and stomped on it in a fit of rage, then remarked, “What's the fucking matter with you, jack-off? Can't you get it up, cowboy?"
Disgust registering on his face, he responded, “Frankly, my dear, I am repulsed by the sight of you. You're twenty-one, but look all of fifty. I have seen Mexican peons without any means whatsoever stay cleaner."
Tears of shame sprang to her eyes as a memory of her father telling a hand the same thing came unbidden to her. She was momentarily stunned to think that someone would have the audacity to say something so shameful to her, yet found the fortitude to respond, “I'd die before I would let you touch me! You're a sick son-of-a-bitch and I will laugh like hell when they finally catch you. And catch you they will, you can bet on that. Don't you realize who I am? I AM A GODDAMED BONA FIDE SUPERSTAR!!!!!! There will be a million people searching for me. You have no idea who you are fucking with!” She then jumped on the bed where she demonstrated real class when she squatted and pissed.
Faden smiled and said, “You're the one who has to sleep in it."
Sinda refused all food, and slept in the recliner. Faden placed a fresh coverlet through the bars before sealing the cell with the dummy wall. He was surprised to find the next morning that she had rinsed out the soiled sheets in the shower sometime during the night, and had them hanging from the bars drying. The mattress was leaning against the south wall with a fan blowing on the wet spot. He was pleased to find that she had bathed herself, although she hadn't been able to do anything with her matted hair. He could tell by the way that the coverlet was hanging half on, half off her body that she had had a night of it.
He felt shame at the stirrings inside of him when he found himself staring at her left breast, which played peek-a-boo with him as she breathed. In sleep, while her body relaxed, she was almost as beautiful as he had imagined her. The only blemish he could find on her were the creases on her face, and the main one down the center, which gave her the pithy look. The circles beneath her eyes appeared to be darker. He didn't know exactly how long the withdrawals would last, never having experimented with anything stronger than marijuana himself (and that had been when he was in the army) so he could only guess. He prayed that she would be able to take nourishment before her body deteriorated beyond recovery. He had a limited supply of medicine, and a restricted knowledge as to what dosage and how often to administer it. It was in Gods hands now.
In the midst of his musings he heard her gasping for air. She seemed to be swallowing her tongue. He opened the cell door, without thought of ruse, and rushed into the room. He dashed into the bathroom and grabbed a glass of water when he saw her gesture for something to drink. She drank slowly, and after a short while she was able to whisper to him that her mouth and throat had been dry enough to spit cotton. Then ... she sprinted for the open door. He caught her easily, and propelled her back into the cell, locking the door after he had exited.
"You bastard! I hate you! Let me out of here, you sadistic motherfucker!"
"Ugly language for such a pretty girl,” he remarked, as he once again sealed the room.
The next few days were hell on him, as well as her. Her mood swings were unpredictable and challenging. He finally got her to eat some soup on the third day, but she was unable to keep it down. She seemed to experience less anxiety when she could see him, so he took to reading while sitting in an easy chair within plain sight of her. On the fifth day she was able to keep some food down. Her system was in such turmoil that one moment she was fine, the next she was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds, and screaming her lungs out in some unknown tongue.
"Would you please cut my hair for me?” she asked, one day, startling the hell out of him.
"What did you say? I'm sorry, but my mind was elsewhere and I'm not sure I heard you right."
"I asked if you would cut my hair for me. It is so tangled that I absolutely can't do anything with it.” She replied so demurely that he was afraid he was hallucinating.
"I'll make a deal with you. If I can shampoo it and get all the tangles out, then you leave it long. Okay?"
"You are more than welcome to try, but Kim is the only person who has ever been able to get all the knots out of it.” She replied most civilly.
Faden entered the cell and saw the hurt look in her eyes when he locked the door behind himself. He wasn't sure he could trust her yet even though she seemed resigned to this fate. He was utterly amazed at the transformation in her, both physically and mentally. It had only been five days, but her body had recovered remarkably well.
Her skin had a healthy, satiny texture, and by lying beneath the skylight he had constructed she was well on the way to regaining the golden hue that she had lacked for the past two years.
There wasn't any way she was going to let on to him, but she felt better than she had in years. There was something strange about this man, her captor (or perhaps savior), and she didn't know whether it was all bad, or all good, only that it eluded her. He appeared to genuinely care about her without expecting anything in return, and she secretly knew she could trust him.
Once, on either the fourth or fifth day of her captivity she had felt him crawl into bed with her. She had been alarmed at first, and then she accepted the fact that he was there merely to give her comfort in her direst time of need. To tell the truth, his body warmth had helped ease the cramping of her weary muscles and had chased away the trembling that threatened to shake her apart.
Faden washed her hair with the gentlest of care and loving caresses. He spent four of the happiest hours of his life brushing her shiny, luxurious, flaming tresses. He answered all her questions, but with the utmost caution. He explained to her that they were on an island of sorts, surrounded on three sides by a bend of the Red River, and a large pond on the remaining side. He told her there wasn't any way to exit the property unless you knew the location of the low-water crossing. He lied about there not being a telephone, when in fact, he had simply unplugged it.
She knew of the stories surrounding her vanishing from watching television and listening to the radio. As of yet there were no clues to her whereabouts. Only one time had anyone knocked on the front door, and Faden had gotten rid of them post-haste. She was aware that once the dummy wall was in place her prison became sound proof, thereby rendering all shouts for help useless.
When he was finished with her hair it shone with the brilliance of the sun. She was so beautiful it took his breath away to gaze at her. He was so overwhelmed with her that he could only look at her in short term glimpses.
She was nothing short of amazed at the metamorphosis that had taken place in such a brief time span. The lovely young woman that stared back at her from the mirror was a far cry from the troubled girl who had ended up in this mysterious place. She turned in the chair and took him by the wrist.
"Why?” she asked.
He simply replied, “You needed help."
"But why would you put yourself in such a precarious situation for someone you didn't even know? Are you my guardian angel, or something? Am I dead?"
"No! I'm just a fan that didn't want to sit by and watch you kill yourself. You have too much to live for, so much to give the world. There are a lot of kids messed up because of your DRUGS, SEX and ROCK AND ROLL idealism."
She looked away guiltily, but then it crossed her mind that it was only her songs that he played on his stereo. It was her posters stapled to the walls of his quarters. She began to fear for her life when she rea
lized she was the sole object of his obsession. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “I'm never going to leave this place alive, am I?” then jerked her hand off of his wrist.
Faden saw she was about to go through one of her mood swings, which preceded the raging fits, so he bolted for the door, mere steps ahead of her. It was a week later before she spoke to him again. She had eaten during this period even though she refused to engage in conversation with him.
She finally came around, and asked him one day, “Are you going to kill me? If you are, then just do it and get it over with. If not, why put yourself and me through all of this? Why won't you just let me go?"
The caught-in-the-headlights look that she directed at him almost scared him speechless. He realized then that she was genuinely afraid that he was either going to kill her or keep her held prisoner for life. He explained, “I'm only going to hold you until you're able to help yourself. I promise to set you free once I believe you have truly kicked your addiction to drugs."
"But can't you see? I have overcome my addiction,” she cried.
"No, you haven't! You are currently in denial. You have pretty well mastered the physical craving, but that may be because of the controlled environment. I believe that if I were to let you go now, you would be right back where you were in no time at all."
"Bullshit! She vehemently spat back at him. “You will never set me free. Aren't you aware of what the authorities will do to you when they catch you? The best you could possibly hope for would be an insanity plea, and even then you would have to spend the rest of your natural life in a mental institution for the criminally insane."
"I had, and do hope that by the time you have recovered you will see things my way, and forgive me for what I have had to put you through. Believe me when I say, it is necessary. If I am wrong, and you don't find it in your heart to spare me, then steps have been taken for that eventuality."
They continued to chat and soon things became as normal as could be expected, given the odd set of circumstances. Faden held the “Bull” sessions in much the same manner as AA meetings. He was a recovering alcoholic himself, therefore he knew quite a bit about such treatments. He had learned to imbibe far more than called for while in the service of his country.
She was somewhat hesitant at first, but then started to really open up. He would let her spend time outside (always chaperoned by him of course) during the dark hours of the evening. She loved to sit on the front porch swing and gaze into the heavens above. The twinkling stars seemed to amaze her. He could not chance having her seen by a fisherman or some other passerby in the daylight, so her visits with Mr. Sun were made in her room beneath the clear skylight.
The one thing that Faden just hadn't planned for happened one day. He became very ill. He gave Sinda enough nonperishable items to keep her nourished for several days. He then went to bed secure in the knowledge that whatever bug he had contracted would soon pass out of his system.
He made a drastic decision when he woke up the next morning sicker than ever, and sincerely believing that he may just up and die at any moment. He unlocked Sinda's door and told her she was free to go. He then collapsed at her feet, his head taking a nasty rap on the concrete floor.
Sinda half-carried, half-dragged him onto her bed. She fed him like a baby when he was semi-conscious, and cradled his head to her breast when he shook uncontrollably in the throes of delirium. She sponge bathed him when he burned with fever, and slipped beneath the covers, her nubile body naked against his when he trembled with ague. He was a week recovering from the illness, and in all that time she left his side only once.
She had placed a call to her dear Kim upon discovering the telephone. She had instructed Kim to call her back from a payphone so the call couldn't be traced. She didn't inform Kim of her whereabouts, but assured her that she was safe and free of harm.
There was something in her tone which convinced Kim that she was speaking the truth of her own free will, and not being forced to read from a prepared script. It had been a long time since she had heard the happy lilt in Sinda's voice. She didn't know what had brought about the change, nor did she care. Sinda's speech was clear and sober, so unlike the slurred, incoherent way that she normally spoke while in the grip of drugs. Her health and happiness were all that mattered to Kim. She suspected that a man was involved, and prayed that he would continue to treat her well. Sinda deserved some joy to repay her for all the cheer she had brought to the masses with her music. Kim promised that all the Kings men and all the Kings horses couldn't drag any information from her about Sinda, or her having phoned.
Sinda told her that she would get in touch with her when she decided the time was right to brace the public again. After both parties spoke tearful good-byes, Sinda hung up the phone, unplugging it from the wall jack just as she had found it.
The virus left Faden weakened, but his constitution was strong and he made a full recovery, only to discover that he was now the prisoner. She had wanted him to see how it felt to be held against one's will, but he appeared to be totally content and happy to have her as a jailer. Taking him completely and utterly by surprise, Sinda made him promise to love and hold her forever. She even went so far as to make him marry her in a mock wedding ceremony with both of them vowing to forsake all others, before she would release him.
They made tender love on her bed, in the shower, across the chair, and on the floor. He feared she might kill him in his weakened condition, but then ... what a way to go! Their appetite for each other was insatiable. Her lovely body in all its’ splendid glory was all the aphrodisiac that he needed.
His hand innocently resting on her thigh was all it took from him to send her soaring. They discovered they were perfect soul mates, and inseparable. He was thirty-one, and she was ten years his junior, but in the lovemaking department they were equals.
A glance in his direction from her sexy, smoldering, bedroom eyes would set him on fire, a fire that only she had the power to extinguish. Her breast had regained the buoyancy, her legs the shape and firmness befitting a woman of her age. The belly, which led to the red treasure nestled in the V at the top of her long legs, was taut and flat enough to land an airplane on.
Anytime he was near, her nipples would become turgid, straining the silver dollar sized aureole to hold them, her crotch would become soaked with the vaginal secretions which prepared her opening for his love.
The simple thought of her voluptuous figure, and the cleverness of her mind was all it took to make him hard for her. It was a God-given miracle that either of them survived the first month of their togetherness. One morning during the fifth month of their affair he had noticed that her belly was becoming rounded and slightly swollen. He had meant to tease her about it, but then decided not to say anything. In truth, he thought it added to her appeal. He chalked it up to a nutritious diet and a healthy appetite.
After five full months of bliss it came to an end, as all good things must. He would have to share her with the rest of the world. Sinda had placed a call to the Oscar ranch house to verify a bit of news she had overheard on the television. A live-in maid assured her that Kim was indeed in an Intensive Care Unit in a Dallas hospital. She had suffered a massive heart attack. The maid put the blame on Sinda (after learning that she had been safe all along) claiming that Kim would be okay if only she would have phoned to let her know how she was doing. According to the maid, stress and worry brought on the attack. How could Sinda have been so callous as to let the woman, who had raised her as one of her own, suffer?
Sinda let the maid run on. There was something rotten in Denmark all right, and Oklahoma, too. Kim had always taken such good care of herself. She was a health food nut, and had been monitoring her cholesterol level long before it was fashionable to do so. She was only forty-one years old, and had been in excellent health the last time that Sinda had seen her some seven months past. Sinda supposed that the “not knowing” had taken its toll, although Kim had sounded fine when they had spok
en on the phone. The maid wasn't aware of the fact that Kim had known Sinda was safe for five of the past seven months.
Sinda phoned her personal secretary (and had to go through the entire thing again), and had her make all the arrangements to get her to the hospital in Dallas. Faden spoke to the woman, giving her directions to the cabin. Sinda was shocked (to put it mildly) to discover that she had been held all this time only thirty some odd miles from where she had been born and raised. She told the secretary to set up a press conference for the following day, and then hung up the phone.
She turned to Faden, and asked, “Did you know my father?"
"Yes ... I used to hunt rattlesnakes on your ranch. I believe the first time was in 1971, and then from ‘75 until this past year. I can even remember seeing you for the first time. I was in my senior year of high school, and you were just a mere slip of a girl, red headed and freckled faced. I can recall thinking at the time that you were very beautiful, even though you couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. One day in ‘71, you and your dad drove up on us while we were checking the den in the Creek Pasture. I tousled your hair and told you; she's got freckles on her but ... she's pretty."
And she did remember him too. She had thought at the time that he was the greatest thing on earth, and had even taken umbrage when her father had stated that all the snake hunters were crazy ... although he did appreciate the service they were providing. He had explained to her that they sold the snakes, captured live, to the volunteer fire fighters for use in the annual Beaver Point Rattlesnake Round Up.
Choking back a sob, she said, “I remember you, too! I had such a school-girl crush on you.” His words had jarred a memory she had believed to be forgotten. One of the few happy memories she had from her childhood. The dam broke and she raced from the room. He tried to call her back, but she had locked herself in the bathroom.
Sinda was going to come out of hiding after visiting Kim. She would suffer the consequences of her actions when Kim was out of danger. Faden wasn't up to sharing her with anyone, so he had begged off accompanying her on the trip. He felt like he was throwing her to the wolves, but he just wasn't any good with crowds. He knew he would only make things worse by going with her. He told her to call him if she got into more trouble than she could handle, and he would be her Knight in shining armor and come to her rescue. He wasn't any good at tearful good-byes, either, and so he had given her the watch his grandfather had bequeathed him. He exacted a promise from her to return to him one day soon, and then walked into the copse behind the cabin. He sat down on a stump with his head cradled on the palms of his hands. She had been sitting in the rocking chair, weeping copiously, with the watch pressed to her lips when he last saw her.
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