Someone Else's Dream

by Colin Griffiths

  “You’ve drove past it!” panicked Carla when Matt had deliberately driven past the place where Carla was supposed to be staying, his mind was focused on getting home and nothing less, where he could lay his demon’s to rest. He had momentarily forgot that Carla was in the car as he became so wrapped up in his own thoughts.

  “My place is only two minutes away, I just thought we could have a coffee and ill drive you back,” he explained to her,

  “Matt I’m really tired,” she protested, her words appeared too had fallen on deaf ears.

  “Ten minutes that’s all it will take.” Insisted Matt, giving her no choice in the matter, and that’s exactly how Carla felt, slowly her choices were being taken away from her.

  Carla sat forward on the sofa, twiddling her fingers nervously in her lap. When Matt had pulled up in her drive, Carla thought about opening the car door and making a run for it, only to find the door locked. Matt walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, as she stepped out of the car he grabbed her by the arm and escorted her into the house, instructing her to sit on the sofa as he made the drinks. She searched through her handbag for her phone as he made the drinks, hoping to send a text to Donna, not really knowing what she could do being so far away. She shook with fear when she found her phone was not there.

  “Coffee or wine?” Matt shouted from the kitchen,

  “Coffee please,” Carla answered, just let me go home please. Were the words she really wanted to say. Matt came in with two glasses of wine and sat beside her on the sofa, laying the wine on the coffee table.

  “I can’t find my mobile,” she stuttered, her eyes were beginning to well up,

  “Oh I took that out of your bag in the restaurant when you visited the toilet, you don’t need that here,” he took the phone out of his pocket as if to mock her, “your very popular, you’ve had texts from Donna and Smithy asking if you’re okay, but don’t worry I reassured them that you are,” he smiled at her, Carla noticed his eyes, they were dark and menacing “drink your wine, then we can go to bed and fuck like bunnies,” he let out a laugh and grabbed her breast, she immediately hit his hand away,

  “No!” she screamed, “I just want to go home.” Matt grabbed a bundle of her hair and yanked it back as hard as he could, causing Carla to shriek in pain as her hands instinctively went to her head. He stood up still with her hair in his hand, Carla had no choice other than to follow his movement as he pulled her by the hair to the floor. Carla let out a scream which seemed to fuel Matt’s rage as he slapped her repeatedly across the face as she lay there, she only stopped screaming when the pain was too much to enable her to scream anymore, she could taste the blood in her own mouth. She didn’t fight anymore as he stripped her down to her underwear, as strange thoughts sometimes reached the mind in times of duress, Carla could only think that she wished she hadn’t worn her sexy underwear. She lay there in her underwear, fully expecting to be raped, trying mentally to prepare herself to resist and defend herself. He easily pulled off her underwear leaving her naked.

  “I fancy a beer,” he told her, he put a hand at the back of her neck and pushed her out of the living room into the kitchen, they stood at the basement steps. Matt gestured for her to go down the steps. Carla now thinking if she went down there she may never return tried to yank his hand away and make a run for it, he grabbed her by the waist kicking and screaming down the steps and into the basement where he literally threw her on the floor.

  “See you later,” he mocked as he closed and locked the door behind him, turning the basement light on before he did so. Carla lay in pain, sobbing, not really understanding what was happening, or indeed why. Matt ran up the stairs and swilled his face, deliberately ignoring the pictures on the walls. He looked at his watch, it was only coming up to 11pm, and the bluebell pub didn’t shut until midnight, plenty of time to grab a few beers. He went out of his house by the front door, whistling as he walked to the pub.

  With her lip swollen and bleeding Carla got herself up off the floor and sat on the sofa, she shivered through the cold as she panned the basement. There was nothing in there, no other furniture. She guessed her screams would not be heard from the underground room, but she screamed nevertheless, until the pain in her face prevented her from doing so. Then she done the only thing she could do and that was wait, just hoping the nice Matt would return and she would be able to escape. The nice Matt was sat in the pub enjoying a beer, he himself didn’t know what kind of Matt would be returning home.

  He had drunk five pints in the short time he had, and when he got home, he opened a can of beer and took a large swig. He swiftly went up the stairs and from the spare room got a free standing mirror and took it down the stairs. He opened the cupboard from under the stairs and took out the multi coloured umbrella that he had purchased from Porthcawl. Carrying both items he walked down the staircase to the basement.

  Carla was sat on the soda shivering with the cold when he walked in, his entrance made her jump and she stood up trying to hide her nakedness with her hands. Matt did not acknowledge her but simply stood the mirror in the centre of the room, he went over to the trembling Carla and forced her to stand in front of the mirror as she pleaded with him to let her go. He then opened the umbrella, took her arm and placed it in her hand, Carla screamed and immediately dropped the umbrella as that awful memory came flooding back. The memory did not hurt her as it had done so in the past, for whatever happened now this memory will haunt her more.

  “Hold it!” he shouted to her as he picked it up and put it in her hand, with the tears strolling down the face and her shivers no longer from the cold she did as he asked. “Over your head.” He instructed, she done what was asked. Matt went and stood behind her, “Look.” He shouted, Carla who had not wanted to look into the mirror, turned around to do so, the umbrella that she held shaking, as she trembled.

  “What do you see,” he asked her, Carla could only cry the words, “Please Matt,”

  “Tell me what you see,” he screamed in a high pitched voice, that to Carla she suggested was not his own, she realised then that she was probably going to die.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she cried,

  “I want you to say ‘I see a pussy and a brolly and they’re two of the same’” she could only let out a whimper, “SAY IT!” he screamed,

  “I see a pussy and a brolly and they’re two of the same,” she sobbed, trying hard not to let go of the umbrella, Matt pushed her down on the sofa that was next to them.

  “And they’re both fucking useless,” he sighed as Carla wrapped her arms around herself. She watched him leave the basement, where she broke down and sobbed. Five minutes later she heard the door open again and the fear inside her rose even further. Matt walked back in carrying Carla’s clothing that had been left on the living room floor and threw them into the basement “Goodnight sweetheart.” He said, before leaving and locking the basement door.

  When she was sure that he was gone, Carla dressed herself, carefully positioning the umbrella the other side of the basement out of harm’s way. She hadn’t been harmed any further, at least not physically, which suggested to her that Matt wasn’t necessary going to harm her any more than he had done so. That’s what she thought throughout the night, trying for as little comfort that was available, as she sat on the sofa. Thankful that she had at least got her clothes back to protect her from the cold underground room. Matt Conner went to bed and slept like a baby. Pleased with himself that he had persuaded Carla to stay after all. The only dream he had was his daughter and she was crying.

  16. Down in the Basement.

  Marcia and Smithy did not go out into the town centre of Porthcawl that Saturday night, They just wanted to spend the evening with a take away, a bottle of wine and work out what to do, with hindsight they realised that running away was not the best option, especially as they didn’t even know if there was anything to run from. Marcia had explained a lot more regarding Matt Conner. Whilst
there was romance in the air, a romantic evening was not necessary planned. Even if they wanted that to happen it would have been curtailed, when Darren had decided to return home early from his usual Saturday night out, well that’s what he told them he was doing. What he did actually do was spend some time on the rocks at the beach, looking at the beach house awaiting Carla’s return. Just before 10pm, the night had started to get chilly, he had only brought half a bottle of thunderbirds with him. He was cold, he was thirsty and he was hungry. The beach house was in darkness, it made him feel alone knowing that as he stood on the rocks looking over at the beach house she was no longer there, and there was certainly no sign of Carla returning.

  Both Smithy and Marcia noticed his glum face as he walked in, even though Marcia had only just met him, she could see he was not at all happy,

  “What’s up?” Smithy asked him,

  “Nothing,” he solemnly replied, then added, “I think Carla is stopping at her dickhead boyfriends house,” both their expressions changed as their eyes widened, Smithy spoke first.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve slept on the beach the last few nights,” he admitted, “he slept there one night, and she left early this morning with a suitcase, that Donna saw her off, she’s with him I know she is,”

  “Are you sure?” said the concerned Marcia, Darren didn’t like being asked questions by a girl he hardly knew, he didn’t want to be judged by a stranger. He just stared at her as if to tell her to ‘mind her own business, Marcia turned to Smithy,

  “If she’s with him, we have got to warn her,” she exclaimed,

  “Have you tried texting or ringing her?” asked Smithy,

  “Yea she’s not answering,” admitted Darren, embarrassed that he had been caught out, he now noticed the shock look on their faces, “What’s up?” he asked. Smithy tried Carla’s phone, it went straight to voice mail, he then rang Donna, who at the time was straddling Kelvin on the sofa, both of them with a whisky in their hand. It was only because it was unusual to have a call from Smithy that she bothered to answer,

  “What do you want Smithy? This better not be about dickhead Darren.” Then Smithy told her his fears, he put Marcia on the phone who explained what had happened to her and that he had been acting strange. Donna had been growing anxious all night as Carla had not been answering her calls or returning her text. She had just hoped it was because she was simply having such a good time, “Should we call the police?” Marcia suggested,

  “No, they won’t do now’t, and what would we say?, ‘ my friends away with her boyfriend and now she won’t answer her phone?, no, we need to go over there, I’ve had too much to drink to drive, I’ll be over as soon as I sober up.” She put the phone down and looked at the naked Kelvin sat on the sofa drinking his whisky, he had listened to Donna’s side of the conversation. She took the whisky off him.

  “Time to go sunshine.” She told him.

  Donna arrived at Smithy’s just before 7am. Smithy, Darren and Marcia having very little sleep. Both Smithy and Donna had tried Carla’s phone that morning, both times it went onto voicemail. Smithy suggested they have a quick coffee before they left, they all agreed and Smithy went into the kitchen to prepare it. Donna and Marcia sat on the sofa,

  “So you have history with this guy then?” Donna asked Marcia, she looked a bit sheepish in her reply,

  “Yes, past and recent, he hasn’t really been the same since his daughter died, but I thought he was over it, it has been three years,” she let out a sigh and shook her head, only to be brought out of her thoughts by Donna grabbing her hand. Donna raised her voice.

  “Are you sure?” she bellowed, “he told Carla he was a widower, with a six year old daughter,” Donna could tell by the look on Marcia’s face that she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear,

  “His wife is very much alive, I talked to her the other day, his daughter died three years ago, aged three,” Marcia assured her. For a moment Donna buried her head in her hands as Smithy and Darren came in with sandwiches and coffee.

  “We have to call the police,” said Darren, he and Smithy had heard every word from the small kitchen, everyone considered this,

  “Let me call his wife,” said Marcia, she got out her mobile without waiting for an answer, they watched as Marcia’s face turned white as she listened to Hayleigh, no one spoke until she finished the call.

  “He called around to his ex-wife Friday night to pick up his daughter, Hayleigh, his wife said it looked like he’s lost it, she advised not to call the police at the moment until we are sure, she said if he’s panicked, who knows what he will do,”

  “His dead daughter you mean?” inquired Donna,

  “Yep, he thought she was still alive,” answered Marcia, “she suggested we go to her place, I think it’s a good idea,” she added,

  “Let’s go then, let’s go and get my girl,” said the impatient Darren,

  Donna looked at him with contempt, she didn’t want to take Darren anywhere, never mind bringing him closer to Carla, she saw the look of determination on his face, and guessed it was one argument she might not win,

  “Rather him with us, then left here all alone,” said Smithy.

  Ten minutes later they were in Donna’s car heading for South Yorkshire.

  * * *

  Matt Conner woke up the next morning at exactly 8am, just about the same time the posse had left Porthcawl, and he woke up feeling fresh and sprightly. He used the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He went down the stairs and cooked himself a hearty breakfast with lashings of coffee, eating it at the kitchen table whilst listening to the radio. From where he sat he could see his garden through the window, pleased to see that the few bedding plants he had planted were thriving in their beds. Feeling immense pride of the beautiful garden he had created. The paper boy delivered the paper, so with more coffee, he sat at the table reading, turning to the sport pages first. He hadn’t made any plans for today, and sat in reflection for a while; deciding that he would call the garden centre later and ask for his job back. He gathered that it would fill some days of his boring life, as he was finding he had too many days with nothing to do. He momentarily thought about texting Marcia ‘dinner’ but decided against it. She hadn’t seemed too interested last time, and it appeared she had a new fella, he decided he would leave her to get on with her life. In his thoughts he privately wished her much happiness. His thoughts fleeted back to his daughter, it was then he knew it was time to get up and do something. He didn’t want to sit there thinking about sad things, he was in a good mood today. He felt he was finally overcoming the withdrawal symptoms from the medicine he had been taking. First he would shower and dress and then take a long walk and think about what he could get up to today. He folded his newspaper and finished his coffee and made his way up the stairs, it was like a shockwave went through his body as he brushed the first photo of Aimee with his fingers. The feeling of harmony and contentment suddenly gone as he felt a different mood change. The words, The basement, kept flashing through his mind. Then he remembered what was down there. His new girlfriend had decided to spend the night after all. He went into the kitchen to prepare bacon, eggs and coffee to take down to her, it was going to be a busy day and what better way to start it, other than with a hearty breakfast. With the rage slowly building inside him, he cooked another breakfast.

  * * *

  Carla occasionally dozed on and off, but mostly the fear and trepidation had kept her awake. Most of the time she kept thinking how she had actually got into this predicament. A few days ago she had experienced her heaven in the bedroom, now she was locked in a basement in fear of the man upstairs who gave her that wonderful feeling. During the night she would often look over at the umbrella that she threw in the corner, thinking it could be used as a weapon to attack Matt, but she had deduced that her fear of umbrella’s and the might of Matt would make her no match for him. She sat in total fear, hoping someone would miss her and rescue her.
During the night she had thought about her parents and how wonderful they had been to her, supporting her through everything she had decided to do, she wished she had kept in closer contact with them, because by now they would be worried and looking for her. She knew they wouldn’t be, she sometimes went weeks without speaking to them. It would just be a normal day for them. Her only hope was Donna, to Donna a day without a text or a call was a cause for concern, and she was her only hope.

  Carla cringed when she heard and saw the basement door open, she wanted to scream and shout when she saw the man with a tray of food come through the door, she done neither. She just stood there with her mouth open as she looked at the man holding the tray. It wasn’t the man she had fallen for. His eyes were wide, but the brows were drawn together and his teeth were gritted.

  “I’ve brought you breakfast, “he said through his gritted teeth. The whole scenario was surreal to Carla, how a simple offer of someone making her breakfast seem so horrific and final. She could imagine how those on death row felt when they were brought their last meal. She felt a sense of loss and failure, like she was being sent to her destiny. She was far too young, she had far too much to do. The potency of the man in front of her suggested she would not have the time to do it.