by M K Farrar
With no other choice, Amy swallowed the blood collecting in her mouth. Tentatively, she touched her teeth with her tongue. The top front one felt loose, and she experienced a momentary pang of worry that she would lose it, and then stifled cold laughter. What the hell did a loose tooth matter? How she looked was of no importance.
She would probably die before anyone saw her again, and no one gave a shit about a pretty corpse.
Chapter Twenty-nine
He didn’t come to her that day—or night, though she was no longer certain which was which. She was hungry and thirsty, and her lip thumped in time to the beat of her heart.
She didn’t even care. At least he’d left her in peace. She’d rather die here alone than spend any more time with him.
The knowledge that no one even cared about her enough to come looking for her didn’t help with her depression. She’d thought she’d done everything she could in her life to give back to people—had gone into a caring profession, and had even done whatever she could to make her mother’s life as stable as possible—yet in the end, no one had given a shit about her.
Even if he let her go, what kind of life would she be going back to?
Come on, Amy. You’re better than this. You can’t just give up.
She deeply regretted not telling Detective Inspector David Norton about her suspicions that she was being followed, and the other strange things that had been happening to her. She’d been worried she’d look unhinged and had wanted him to think of her as a professional woman who had it together, but instead she’d allowed her pride to get in the way.
Pride comes before a fall. Wasn’t that the truth.
Maybe if she’d said something to him, he might have been concerned if he’d tried to get hold of her but hadn’t been able to. Instead, he’d most likely just think she was no longer interested and, being the respectful man he seemed to be, would not want to pester her. After all, she’d told him on several occasions that she’d only recently come out of a relationship and wasn’t looking for anything new.
Time passed, though she was unable to process exactly how much. She’d been down here for several days now—of that she was sure. At a guess, she’d say it was Tuesday, but it could just as easily be Monday or even Wednesday.
Finally, the familiar scrape of the sofa sounded, and then the boards came up, and Edward dropped into the cellar. She was in her usual position, sitting on the floor, her back up against the wall.
He stepped forward to stop in front of her. “Say you’re sorry.”
She mumbled ‘what?’ from behind the tape.
“If you say you’re sorry for trying to escape, then I’ll forgive you.”
Her emotions warred with each other. One side of her wanted to tell him to fuck off the moment he took off the tape, but the side that didn’t want to die knew she had to go along with what he wanted if she was ever going to escape. Besides, her hunger was a gnawing ache, and her thirst was even worse. Dying of thirst down here would be a hideous way to go.
She relented and answered him with a nod.
“Good.”
He reached to the back of her head and tore off the tape, taking chunks of her hair with it. She bit back a scream, knowing it would make him angry. The tape had hurt her already painful lip as well, and fresh tears filled her eyes. What had she ever done to deserve this? All she’d ever wanted was to help people.
“Say it,” he insisted.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out as a croak.
“Louder!”
“I’m sorry!”
He sat beside her. “That’s better. I don’t like it when we fight. Now you can tell me my prayer. Do you need to see the words?”
She shook her head. God, no. She didn’t need to see the sentences carved into his skin. He must go over them, opening the wounds each time, not allowing them to heal.
“Now I lay me down to sleep...”
Without bothering to ask, she repeated it, over and over.
Just as before, when he’d had enough, he went to the open gap in the floor above and took down the food and water for her.
She guzzled the water, desperate for the liquid, her mouth even drier after having to recite to him for so long. Then he fed her the sandwich, but she barely tasted it. Instead, her gaze was drawn back to the gap in the floorboards.
Whenever he was with her, he always left them open. Normally, the loose floorboards had the sofa pulled over the top, so even if she was able to push up the floorboards, the weight of the sofa would be blocking her way. The only way she’d be able to escape was when he was down here, her mouth un-taped because he wanted her to tell him the poem while she held him.
If there was ever going to be a chance for her to escape, it was going to be when he was coming to see her.
A plan had sparked in her mind, but she wasn’t going to do anything rash. Her last attempt at getting help had left her with a busted lip and being half-starved. She couldn’t mess up again. The next time, he might kill her.
Just like always, once she’d finished eating, he taped her mouth up and left.
He would be back. Only next time, she’d be ready for him.
OVER TIME, AMY HAD managed to loosen the tape between her ankles. It wasn’t enough to pull them apart completely but gave her sufficient room that she was able to stand with her feet slightly apart.
She was formulating a plan that might get her free.
The roof was a little above head height. Edward was tall—and strong and young and agile—and he could simply hook his arms and elbows onto the boards above and pull himself up, but she wouldn’t be able to do that. Not only were her hands still behind her back, but she was also too short. She needed something to stand on.
Her gaze caught on the suitcase. Would that give her enough extra height to be able to jump through? It seemed like a chance in a million, but considering her current circumstances, it was a chance she was willing to take.
How long did she have before he was back down here again? It was hard to tell the passing of time, especially if she fell asleep. She didn’t know if he was sticking to any kind of routine or if he was just doing it whenever he felt like it. Most children liked the comfort of routine, but Edward was no regular child.
Surely someone would come to the house soon. Even if they weren’t looking for her, they’d need to check up on him. What about Ros, the social worker? Edward was no longer in full-time education, and they couldn’t just leave him floating in no-man’s land. He still had to be schooled.
Amy refocused her attention on the suitcase. It was going to be a struggle moving it, and once she’d positioned it as close to the spot beneath the movable floorboards as she dared, she was also going to have to hope Edward didn’t notice it as he jumped down. If he did, he’d realise she was up to something. She was going to have to act fast to make sure he didn’t see that she’d moved the case first. Her stomach twisted with anxiety at the thought. Despite everything he’d put her through, and knowing he’d killed his own mother, there was still a part of Amy that didn’t want to have to hurt him. He was a child. He’d been her patient. And now she was going to deliberately do something to cause him harm.
You don’t have any choice.
With her hands taped behind her back, she wasn’t going to be able to use them t shift the case. Her best option was her feet.
She shuffled and hopped her way over to where the suitcase sat. Then she dropped back on her bottom, hitting the floor heavily, jarring her aching bones. Lying on her back, her hands crushed between her body and the rough, hard surface of the bricks, she planted both feet on the side of the suitcase and pushed. The case scraped across the floor, and she winced at the sound, hoping it wouldn’t be heard from the room above.
The case still wasn’t in position, so she wriggled and squirmed closer again, and bent her knees into her body. She placed her feet against the side and pushed. It was heavy—containing all the clothes and shoes and toiletries that would b
e expected to be packed by a woman running away from her family—but not heavy enough for her to not be able to move it.
It took a couple more attempts, but finally she manoeuvred the case into position beneath the place where he lifted the floorboards. He always dropped down, feetfirst, so she hoped that would give her enough time to attack before he clocked on to her escape plan.
She had to keep reminding herself he was a twelve-year-old boy. In her mind, he’d become a monster, and even though he was clearly intelligent and skilled in deception and manipulation, he was still a child. She needed to forget he was a child to give herself the courage to fight back. Of course, even if she was able to get past Edward, she also had his father to deal with. Her opinions on Robert had shifted since she’d been held captive. She’d thought him to be a violent bully, but now she only saw him as a coward. He was afraid of his son and what he was capable of and had done everything within his power to hide what Edward was from the rest of society. Bringing Edward to see her at the office must have terrified Robert, knowing there was a good chance she would expose his son for what he really was. But he’d underestimated Edward’s powers of manipulation. He’d tried to warn her off, and she hadn’t taken the warning, but that didn’t make him the good guy in all of this. Far from it. He’d covered up Edward’s tracks, and it appeared he was willing to do so again when it came to her. If she tried to escape, would Robert force her back down here? Or, knowing that his son was out of control, would he let her escape and make it look as though she was the one to blame for exposing Edward for what he truly was, instead of him?
Of course, it would be easier to escape if Robert wasn’t here, but it was impossible to know if he’d be home when Edward next chose to visit her. She only had one chance at this, and she couldn’t not try, simply because Robert was also present.
With her stomach churning, and light-headed with adrenaline, she had no choice but to wait. Though remaining standing would have given her the best starting position, hours might pass before he came back, and she wouldn’t be able to stay on her feet for that long. She also needed to make sure she had enough strength in her to attack. Edward was young, but he was strong. The only thing she had to her advantage was that of surprise.
Amy sat with her back against the wall, wishing she could wrap her arms around her body for comfort. She kept her face turned from the plastic wrapping containing Susan’s remains, not wanting to picture either the poor woman’s body or herself inside the bag.
Hours passed.
Pumped full of adrenaline, Amy didn’t allow herself to sleep. Before, it had been a good way to pass the time, an escape from her reality, but now she didn’t dare miss a single sign that told her Edward was coming.
A creak of the floorboard overhead sounded.
She scrambled to her feet, using the wall behind to help up her.
Sure enough, footsteps crossed the room, and then came the familiar scrape of the sofa being moved out of the way.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.
She did her best to quell her panic, but it was hard. The first floorboard was lifted to one side, and then the next. As the third and the fourth were lifted, giving him enough room to slide down into the cellar below, she got into position. Her feet only had a couple of inches give between them, and her hands behind her back meant that the top half of her body was her most powerful force, and she intended to use it.
Two feet appeared in the hole as Edward sat on the edge...and then he dropped down.
Amy reared back then threw her head forward. By luck rather than judgement, with him dropping to crouch slightly as his feet hit the floor, his face was in the exact position to connect with her forehead.
A crack sounded, and pain rocketed through her skull, but Edward gave a yell of shock and pain and fell backwards, clutching his face with his hands. In the poor light, she was sure she saw the dark splatter of blood, but she wasn’t going to waste any time hanging around to find out how badly he was hurt.
She used her feet to knock the suitcase to its side, bringing it directly beneath the hole, and then, with both ankles together, she hopped on top.
Bending her knees to give herself as much upward motion as possible, she jumped. But she was nowhere near tall enough. Without the use of her hands to grab the upper floor, the front of her shoulders only scraped the edges of the hole. Her chin caught on a floorboard, and her teeth clacked together, narrowly missing her tongue.
No!
A growl of fury came from beneath her, the sound inhuman.
She wasn’t going to make it.
Fingers wrapped around her ankles, cold and merciless, and yanked her back down. Then there was only air until she hit the solid brick floor.
Amy groaned and rolled to her side, unaware where she was even going but feeling too vulnerable lying splayed out on the floor.
“That was stupid,” he cried, clambering on top of her so he straddled the upper half of her body. “That was really, really stupid!”
He looked like a boy again. A boy with blood pouring from his nose. Hot, wet spatters hit her skin like raindrops. She squeezed her eyes shut and choked back a sob. He caught her by both shoulders and shook her.
“How could you do that to me? You’re supposed to care about me. You’re supposed to take care of me.”
Oh God. He’s completely mad.
He lifted himself and shoved her onto her side.
She screamed and yelled against the tape, but the sounds were muffled. What was he doing? The fear of anticipation filled her.
He took hold of one of her hands.
No, no, no...
And grabbed her finger and wrenched it back.
She heard the snap only a fraction of a second before white-hot pokers of pain exploded through her hand. Amy screamed long and hard. He moved to the next finger—her middle one—and repeated what he’d done, yanking it back until that same crack echoed around the cellar.
The darkness closed in, and she was happy to let it swallow her.
Chapter Thirty
When she regained consciousness, Edward was gone, and she was alone again in the dark.
Her hand throbbed with a constant pulse, and she didn’t dare move it. Though the rest of her was freezing, her hand felt like it had been dipped in lava. She didn’t know if he’d broken her fingers, or if they were simply dislocated, but they hurt like a bitch.
Maybe someone would see Edward’s busted nose and alert the authorities. They’d most likely think it was Robert who’d injured him. A terrible thought occurred to her and ice settled in her bones. What if the authorities took both Edward and Robert from the house? Robert might be arrested, and Edward put into a foster home. The sofa would be back across the floorboards, and no one would ever even think to look for her, and she doubted either Edward or Robert would tell anyone she was here. What kind of death would that be? Worse than one at Edward’s hands? She wasn’t sure. It was bound to be long and painful. She had little water and no food. She’d die of thirst before she starved to death.
But if he’s not here, you might find another way out.
No, there was no other way. The place was completely bricked up. The only way was through the floorboards, and even if she managed to get her hands free, if the sofa was over the top of the loose ones, she wouldn’t be able to move the sofa from below. Maybe she could figure out a way to break open the floorboards in a different part of the room, but they were strong—deliberately solid enough to hold the weight of people and furniture. It would be like trying to break her way out of a giant coffin.
The thought sent chills down her spine.
She wasn’t going to give up. She refused. He would keep hurting her, and though she was afraid of the pain, at least it meant she was still alive.
The suitcase caught her eye again. It hadn’t been enough for her to get out of the cellar, but what about what was inside?
Damn. Why the hell hadn’t she thought of that before? She doubted she was
going to find a knife or a gun, but there might be something she could use, no matter how small.
She would have to sit on the floor and use her taped hands to feel for the zipper and gradually undo it. She was terrified she was going to hear Edward coming back and he’d find her with the case open. He’d hurt her then. She knew he would.
With her mind made up, she shuffled her way over to the suitcase and dropped back down onto the floor beside the zip. She peered over her shoulder as best she could, trying to see what she was doing, but the angle was bad, and she was still in near darkness, apart from the small amount of light filtering between the floorboards overhead.
But she managed to catch the cool metal of the zip with the fingers of her good hand, and she held on tight. Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she pulled, and the zip slid open with a raspy whine.
It was hard, with her swollen fingers and hand. Every time she bumped her bad hand against the case, she clenched her teeth and bit back a scream, her eyes filling with tears.
Little by little, she edged the zip across. She was going to need to open the case fully. If her hands were free, she’d have been able to delve inside, but as things were, she needed to flip the case fully open to be able to see the contents.
Straining her ears for any sign that Edward was returning, she kept going. It felt like it took forever, but finally she managed to get the zip undone. She could hardly believe she’d done it. She twisted around to face the bag and then used her feet to flip open the top.
Her heart pounded hard, her breath catching. In a clear toiletries bag, resting on top of the piles of folded jumpers and jeans, was a small pair of nail scissors.