by Jon Athan
“I'm not going to hurt you.”
Emiko couldn't say another word. She held her hands over her mouth, grunting and groaning as she sobbed. She fell forward and landed in Ethan's arms. She cried into her captor's chest, mumbling about her family and her fears. She was hopeless and helpless.
Yet, Ethan couldn't help but smile as he felt her warmth. She was crying, but her tears didn't bother him. Despite the circumstances, her embrace was enough to warm his cold and lonely heart. He stroked her hair and shushed her – everything's going to be okay.
Seizing the opportunity, Emiko lunged forward and chomped at Ethan's shoulder. Ethan lost his footing and fell back, so Emiko was only able to bite his shirt. Before she could maul him, Ethan quickly crawled in reverse until he slipped through the doorway. The captor emerged from the attack unscathed.
He staggered to his feet and said, “This is what I'm talking about. You can't be doing that. You don't have to do that. I obviously have to help you realize that, don't I? You'll learn. Yeah, you'll learn over time.” He glanced at the stairs to his left. He said, “I have to go now. I'll be back tomorrow, okay? I have to finish writing my book.”
Emiko crawled back to the bed in the corner. She stared at Ethan with a blank expression – cold and steady. She refused to speak to him under the horrific circumstances. She wasn't going to become a lover or a friend, she wasn't going to fall to Stockholm Syndrome.
As if he believed he impressed her, Ethan smirked and asked, “What? Didn't I tell you? I'm a writer. Like, a published author. Maybe I'll come read something for you someday. I think that would be nice. I'll see you soon. I love you, Emiko.”
Ethan closed the door, sealing his captive with the darkness. He locked the door with his keys – no one was getting in or out without him. He walked up the stairs, prepared to continue the rest of his day – normal, like yesterday.
Upon hearing the creaky stairs, Emiko lunged forward and shouted, “You bastard! You sick bastard! Let me go! You can't do this to me!” She wheezed and groaned, horrified. She cried, “Please... Please, let me go!”
Of course, her screams – insults and pleas – were ignored. She yelled and cried as she tugged on the chain, but to no avail. She could not escape the shackles. She was trapped in the dungeon, left by her lonesome.
Chapter Twelve
The Perfect Life
The sound of jingling keys and the tumbler lock emerged in the room – a terrifying alarm. Wide-eyed, Emiko sat up on her blanket. She stared at the door knob as she scooted closer to the corner. She hoped to see a police officer in the basement – a knight in shining armor. At heart, she knew the man of her nightmares was returning.
The door swung open.
Ethan shoved the keys into his pocket as he stood in the doorway. The young man smiled, genuinely happy. He walked into the room, then he squatted down in front of Emiko. He gently chuckled as she scooted closer to the corner. She exhibited fear, but he misinterpreted it as shyness. He liked her bashful personality.
The author reached forward and stroked her hair, shoving the strands away from her brow. He moved down and caressed her cheek.
He said, “It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. You see? I'm one of the good guys. Everything–”
Emiko chomped at his fingers. Agile, Ethan pulled his hand away and fell back. He narrowly dodged her attack. Although Emiko did not chase him, he crawled to the other side of the room. He sat in the corner diagonal from Emiko.
Ethan said, “You don't want to do that, Emiko. If you bite me, I'm going to put a muzzle on your face. You act like a dog, you get treated like a dog. Okay? I swear, I'll find a way to lock a muzzle onto your head so you never try to bite me again. Besides, even if you bit my chest or my finger, even if you ripped one of my fingers off, you would accomplish nothing. It wouldn't kill me, it wouldn't set you free. It would only make me angry. Don't risk it. I don't want to hurt you.”
I don't want to hurt you – those words sent shivers down her spine. She crawled back to the corner, retreating from the confrontation and accepting a temporary defeat. Her captor was correct anyway – hurting him would not save her. She would have to kill him if she really wanted to escape, but she wasn't a killer.
Ethan said, “I was afraid to come down here. I brought you home last night around nine. You woke up around midnight. At least, that's when I first heard you scream. It's... It's now two in the afternoon. You missed breakfast because I ignored you. I wanted to apologize for that.”
“What were you doing?” Emiko asked, infuriated. “Huh? Were you stalking more people?”
“No, I don't 'stalk' people. I'd never do something like that,” Ethan responded. As Emiko huffed and rolled her eyes, the captor said, “I was trying to write a chapter for my new book, but I couldn't do it. The words weren't coming to me. I've got a severe case of writer's block – and that makes me angry. When I get angry, I hurt people. I hurt them very badly. I don't want to hurt people because I am... inadequate. Believe me, I'm not a bad person. I just do bad things sometimes...”
Emiko gazed at Ethan, baffled. His intentions were difficult to read, like a book written in a foreign language. He appeared harmless, but he obviously caused harm to her. Yet again, she found herself simultaneously despising and pitying her captor. However, she figured she could manipulate him during his most vulnerable state.
As he stared at his hands, brooding, Ethan said, “I think we started off on a bad foot last night, so I want to spend a nice, romantic day with you. I'm sure that will help me clear my mind. It'll even help you clear yours. Okay?”
Emiko took a deep breath and nodded. The opportunity landed on her lap, like a present from a loved one – wrapped with a bow on top.
Playing along, Emiko stuttered, “Th–That sounds good. Can we... Can we spend the day outside? I could use some fresh air.”
“Outside?”
“Yes, outside. We don't have to go far. We can go to your backyard and... and have a little picnic. You like picnics, don't you? I love them. Can we have a picnic outside? Please?”
Ethan smiled and said, “I like picnics, too.”
Emiko nervously giggled upon hearing the response. Her hope was rekindled – for a moment. Unfortunately, the smile was quickly wiped from her face.
Ethan said, “We can have a picnic in here – in your room. It'll be a romantic indoor day.”
Trying to fight the urge to cry, Emiko grimaced and said, “A picnic has to be outside. Besides, it can't be romantic in a dungeon like this, right?”
“What?” Ethan asked as he glanced around the room. He rubbed the nape of his neck and said, “I guess it's pretty dark in here. I thought it looked okay, but I can fix it up if you want. Maybe I'll install a light, add some decorations, make it pretty.”
“I want to leave. I want to go outside. Please, take me outside. We need to trust each other, right? That's how love works: trust.”
“You're right, but you just haven't earned that privilege yet,” Ethan said as he staggered to his feet. He approached the door and said, “We'll start the day with a bath, then we'll have dinner.”
“A–A bath?”
“Yeah. I'll be right back,” Ethan responded as he strolled out of the room.
Emiko stared at the door, awed. A bath for him, she thought, or for me?
***
Ethan returned to the room, gripping the bail of a stainless steel bucket in his right hand. The bucket was filled with boiling water – steam emanated from the liquid. A loofah, a bottle of shampoo, and a bottle of body wash floated in the water, too. He placed the bucket on the floor and knelt down in front of Emiko.
He said, “Take your clothes off and crawl into the shower.”
“N–No...”
“Don't make this difficult, sweetie. If you cooperate, I'll let you bathe yourself. If you don't... Well, I'll have to bathe you. I don't want to put my hands on you until you're comfortable, but I won't have you stinking up the place. Okay? Get undre
ssed and slide into the shower. Now.”
Teary-eyed, Emiko closed her eyes and shook her head. She refused to take a shower in front of Ethan, standing her ground in spite of the dangers.
Ethan said, “I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”
Emiko panted upon hearing Ethan's warning. She couldn't keep her facade afloat, she couldn't masquerade herself as a resilient woman. She held her hands to her face as she grimaced and sobbed. Her sorrow echoed through the home, but it did not change her captor's course of action. Trying to comfort herself, the same phrase echoed through Emiko's head: he's seen it before, he's seen it before, he's seen it before. She slowly lowered the strap of her nightgown. The garment fell, revealing her breasts.
Ethan's eyes widened as he leered at her bare chest. He licked his lips as he stared at her light pink nipples. He imagined himself sucking on her teat like a newborn baby. He dropped his hands over his crotch, hopelessly trying to hide his erection.
Emiko couldn't keep her composure. She stopped disrobing and crossed her arms, covering her chest. She knew he already saw her naked, but it was different while she was conscious.
Tears trickling from her eyes, Emiko stuttered, “I–I can't do it...”
“Just take it off, Emiko. It's normal.”
“This isn't normal. Please, just let me go.”
Frustrated, Ethan lunged forward and pulled on her nightgown. Emiko cried and flailed her limbs, trying to fight off her attacker while covering her breasts and crotch. The other strap ripped, then the garment slipped across her figure. A loud shredding sound emerged as the rest of the nightgown ripped down the middle.
Ethan rolled the garment into a ball, then he tossed it outside of the room. He turned the knob next to the door, which caused water to pour out of the shower head on the ceiling. He checked the water with his hand – lukewarm.
Ethan said, “It's perfect for you.”
He wiped his wet hands on his jeans, then he extended his arm towards Emiko – go ahead, take my hand. Emiko sat in the corner, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees. The couple stared at each other – confused, frustrated, furious.
Ethan grabbed Emiko's arm, then he dragged her into the makeshift shower. Emiko fell to her side under the water. She didn't fight Ethan. Instead, she peacefully accepted the shower. The water brought a sense of normality to her world. She felt filthy, worn and gross. She was afraid she was sexually abused while she was unconscious, too. The water washed away the uncertainty in her mind.
Ethan poured some body wash on the wet loofah, then he scrubbed Emiko's body – all while Emiko vacantly stared at the wall. He vigorously scrubbed every inch of her figure, from her head to her soles.
He stopped and said, “You're dirtier than I thought. You're going to need hotter water. Don't move.”
Emiko squirmed and whimpered as Ethan turned the knob near the door. Scorching water spewed from the shower head. The searing droplets of water caused her skin to redden. Yet, the woman did not attempt to leave the shower. She had given up on the idea of escaping.
As he scrubbed her, Ethan gritted his teeth and said, “I have to... cleanse you, princess. I have to clean all of the shit you might have rolled in when we weren't together. I know it hurts, it burns like hell, but you have to go through this if you want to prove yourself to me.”
He stopped scrubbing and sat back on his heels. He breathed deeply through his gritted teeth, hissing like a snake as he waved his wet arms. Red and sensitive, his hands and forearms were also burned by the hot water. He persevered, though.
As he observed her fidgety body, Ethan said, “I want to believe you're a virgin, Emiko, but it's hard. These days, everything is about sex. The 'news,' the TV shows, the movies, the music, the books... It's all about sex. I mean, books about sadomasochism sell more than extreme horror stories – and that's just not right.” As he massaged shampoo into her hair, Ethan said, “In today's world, I don't know if a woman can stay a virgin after her thirteenth birthday. In fact, I don't know a single woman who was able to keep her legs closed after thirteen. You whores... You filthy whores, all of you!”
Emiko stared at Ethan with bloodshot eyes. She was awed by the man's misogynistic speech – a vile rant fueled by hatred. His shifts in mood were eerie, too. She couldn't tell if he loved or hated her. Still, she stayed quiet.
Emiko panted as Ethan rolled her onto her back. Scorching water coursing every which way on her figure, her nipples were erect and her milky white skin was riddled with rosy patches. She gasped as Ethan separated her legs.
Ethan glared at her bare crotch, blinded by his rage. Like a person with an obsessive-compulsive disorder, he had an inexplicable urge to clean everything.
Without taking his eyes off of her crotch, he dragged the bucket closer to the shower. The water in the bucket was boiled before he entered the room. The temperature of the water was well above 200-degrees before the shower. The temperature had dropped to 160-degrees by the time he reached for the pail. The scalding water was enough to cause third-degree burns – and Emiko wasn't aware of that.
Ethan lifted the bucket from the floor. He stared at his captive's bottom half, as if he were contemplating his next move, then he dumped the water on Emiko's crotch. Emiko shrieked at the top of her lungs as the searing water streamed across her crotch and vagina. The bloodcurdling screech echoed through the home.
Ethan struck Emiko with a closed fist – a fast, powerful jab to the face. Emiko continued to flail her limbs and scream. So, Ethan struck her again. He cried as he hit her four more times with all of his might, water raining onto his head and shirt. He stopped his assault as blood leaked from Emiko's busted nose. She twitched and groaned, defeated.
As he staggered to his feet, Ethan sniffled and said, “That... That's enough of that. You–You're clean now.” He approached the knob and turned off the water. Teary-eyed, he said, “I'm... I'm sorry about hitting you. It was for your own good. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you, okay? I'll go get your clothes, then I'll finish dinner. I'm... I'm sorry.”
Emiko did not respond. She lay on the floor and vacantly stared at the ceiling – dazed by the attack. Lips painted with blood, hoarse breaths escaped her mouth as she shuddered uncontrollably. She could not feel her crotch. As a matter of fact, she felt nothing at all – no pain, no emotion, nothing.
Disappointed in himself, Ethan walked out of the room with his head down. He locked the door, then he proceeded with his plans.
***
“I knew it would look good on you,” Ethan said as he ran his eyes over Emiko's figure. “I guess everything looks good on you. You're just gorgeous, princess. You're the most beautiful woman on the planet. I'm a lucky guy.”
Emiko sat in the corner of the room, her wet hair swept over her shoulder. She wore a sleeveless black dress with a v-neckline. The tight dress perfectly gripped her petite figure. Her outfit was simple but elegant. However, clothing could not cover the dried blood under her nostrils or her swollen lips – a garment could not heal her wounds.
Ethan placed a tray on the floor between the couple. He shoved the tray closer to Emiko's bed. Two plates and two cups sat on the plastic tray. Grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and white rice were piled on the plates. The cups were filled with water. In order to prevent an escape or an attack, the eating utensils on the tray were plastic. The meal was supposed to be healthy in order to make Emiko feel like she was home.
It didn't work.
Ethan shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth. He loudly chewed his food, smacking his lips like a parched camel. He smiled and beckoned to Emiko as he reached for his chicken – go ahead and eat, it's safe. To his dismay, his date did not devour the fresh meal or guzzle the cold water. Her lack of appetite was worrisome.
Ethan asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
Emiko furrowed her brow as she stared up at Ethan. Did I do something wrong?–she was stunned by the audacious question. She was k
idnapped, restrained, and brutalized by Ethan, but he still had the nerve to ask such a disrespectful question. She couldn't utter a word. She was violated – defiled – by the unhinged man.
Ethan pushed the tray closer to Emiko. He said, “I made this meal just for you, sweetie. I know what you like. Please, eat.”
Emiko slowly shook her head as she scooted closer to the corner. She was hungry, but she refused to eat the meal.
Ethan loudly swallowed, then he said, “Please. It's good for the baby.”
“The baby?” Emiko repeated, baffled.
The author gazed at Emiko's stomach. For a moment, he considered telling her about the artificial insemination. If he succeeded, her pregnancy would be reaching the fourteenth week. He needed her to eat to ensure the child would be healthy at birth. He couldn't tell her the truth, though. An honest confession would paint him as a monster – and he couldn't do that.
Ethan took a bite of the chicken and said, “I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm sorry about that. I mean... If we're ever going to have a baby – far, far in the future – you need to be healthy. Having a baby is the hardest thing on the planet. It's a miracle that only females can provide thanks to their strength and, of course, their sexual organs. It's... It's amazing. Please, eat the food. Stay strong and healthy.”
Who are you?–Emiko thought as she gazed into Ethan's moist eyes. One moment, the man was spewing a vile rant about women; the next, he was praising women for their resilience and strength. He was impossible to read. Despite his kindness, Emiko remained hesitant. Doubt clouded her mind, fear burdened her shoulders. She stared down at her body – she couldn't tell if something were different about herself.
How could she trust the man who kidnapped her?
Ethan grabbed a spoonful of rice from Emiko's plate, then he held the eating utensil closer to her mouth. On his knees, he slowly scooted closer to the young woman. He didn't want to alarm her with any sudden movements.