by Bella King
He put the camera in the pocket of his slacks and laughed, the mask eerily stoic. “Pretty funny, right? It’s a photoshoot.”
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded, growing slightly irritated that he was making light of my dire situation.
“We’re just going to send your picture in the mail to your lovely parents.”
“What is this, a ransom?” I asked, trying to make sense of it all.
“Sort of,” he replied.
“So, what are you going to do to me?” I asked, not sure if I even wanted to know the answer to that question.
“Something bad,” the masked me said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Please, I can’t feel my hands. You don’t have to do this. I don’t have any money,” I said, knowing full well that my pleas wouldn’t have any effect on my fate.
“Ah, yes, I was going to untie you. Hold on,” the man said, pulling out a knife from his belt and shining it in the bright light of the small room.
We looked to be in a holding cell of some sort. I could only see what was in front of me, but the wall was solid cement and pretty close. I doubted I would be able to run anywhere once I was cut loose.
“Let me enlighten you to what’s going on so that you stop annoying me with stupid questions,” the man said as he began to cut the ropes around me. “You’ve been brought here because your mother, Caroline Bishop, is the judge on a rather large case involving prominent members of the Southside Syndicate. I’m assuming you know who we are.”
I nodded. “Your men chased me down last night.”
“That’s right, until you were taken by Saint,” the masked man replied casually, cutting through more ropes.
“You know Saint?” I asked, surprised. I felt the blood rush back to my arms and legs, giving feeling to them. I still couldn’t move well, but that was because I was also in handcuffs. These guys weren’t going to risk me running off. I didn’t even want to risk it until I knew more about where I was and what the Southside Syndicate wanted from me.
“He is,” the man paused for a moment and looked at me with his piercing blue eyes, “a problem.”
“Yeah, I mean, he shot one of your guys,” I said.
“He’s done a lot more than that, and he’ll get what’s coming to him. For now, you’re with us, and you’ll be treated well as long as Judge Bishop follows our advice.”
“You want to influence the case,” I said, beginning to understand where this was going. I was just a pawn to them, which meant that they would probably keep me alive. I wasn’t much good as a bargaining chip if I was dead.
“That’s correct,” the masked man said. “Now, you can get up. I would like to move you to a more comfortable room.”
“Are you going to uncuff me?” I asked, trying to stand up from the chair, but finding my legs too wobbly to stay standing. I fell back into my seat.
“I’ll uncuff you when you’re in your new room, Ruth. I see you need some help walking,” he said, his voice deep and sinister, but polite. He held out a hand.
At first, I didn’t want to take it. Why should I accept help from my own captors? But, as I attempted to stand up again, I found myself needing extra support. I reached out with my cuffed hands, and grabbed the man’s strong arm, steadying myself with his help. “What did you inject me with, anyway? I can barely stand.”
“A mixture of tiletamine and a few other things. I’m not entirely sure. We have someone else in charge of all that,” the masked man explained.
“Do you have your own chemistry department here?” I asked, only half-joking.
To my surprise, the man nodded. “We have the largest drug operation in the state of Florida. We offer anything you can think up, and some things that you wouldn’t even believe,” he explained.
My heartbeat was weak, but I was starting to feel like I could walk with the man’s assistance now. Everything he was telling me blew my mind, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. If my mother was on the case, that meant that the Southside Syndicate was a large and well-organized group. She didn’t disappear into the courtroom for that long for smalltime thieves and thugs.
I was way in over my head, and to think, I was just about to get the biggest acting role of my career. Would it have mattered if I had gone to law school instead? I would still have ended up in the arms of the Syndicate.
“This way,” the masked man said, leading me around the chair and through an open door.
I hobbled down a dark hallway of what looked like a hospital. It was too well-built to be some shoddy hideout for the gang. I suspected I was at their headquarters, possibly hidden in plain sight in the city. If I could find a way out, it might not be that difficult to get away from them.
We passed a few people in the hallway, all wearing different masks as though they had robbed a Halloween store the night before. They wore suits, unlike the street gangsters I had previously encountered, which confirmed my suspicions that we were at the Southside Syndicate headquarters.
“I’d like you to refrain from doing anything stupid while you’re here,” the masked man continued as I loosened my grip on his arm, able to walk more independently now.
“I won’t,” I replied. I would only take the opportunity to escape if I thought I could actually get away. I didn’t want to risk a bullet swimming around in my brain matter when I could just wait for my mother to obey orders so that I could be released. However, according to her, the case was going to last months. Would they really keep my shacked up for that long?
“You’re lucky you’re a high-profile prisoner,” the masked man noted as he took me around a corner to another long hallway. “Your living conditions will be much better than some of the others here. You don’t look like someone who could handle being tortured either.”
“Probably not,” I admitted, wondering how many people they had locked up in this place.
“You’re going to enjoy it here, I think,” the man said, his voice returning to its previously sarcastic tone. “Three meals a day, a bed, lots of free time, and no work. Maybe we should trade positions.”
I chuckled weakly. “Maybe we should.”
“You’re funny,” the masked man said dryly as we came to a stop. “This is your room.” He pulled a key ring from his belt loop and fingered through the large assortment of jingling keys, finally pulling out from the bunch and placing it into the door. The lock opened with a heavy clack.
“What about these,” I said, holding up the silver cuffs that kept my hands together.
“Right,” he grumbled, sticking another key into the cuffs and undoing them. “Enjoy your stay at Southside resort,” he said, opening the door to the room and shoving me inside.
I stumbled into the room, falling to the floor and bashing my knees against the hard tiles. I slid a foot in the dust before I came to a stop. I laid like that as the door slammed shut and locked, trapping me in my cold and clinical cell.
Chapter Eight
A spider with eight long legs slowly made its way across the room, taking no notice of me as it walked past. I saw a lot of these types of spiders in my apartment, especially when it got to be scorching outside, but they never failed to creep me out.
I pushed myself to my feet. My bruised knees groaned under my weight as I stood up. There was a small bed beside me, which I quickly sat on so that I didn’t fall over. I still felt woozy from the powerful concoction of drugs that had been injected into my bloodstream when I was kidnapped.
I looked around at my surroundings. I was in a hospital room that had been reinforced to keep me from getting out. There was no window, and the door had been replaced with a thick metal one with a deadbolt securing me inside. I had a bed, a toilet, and a bathtub in my room. I guess I wasn’t going to be let out for any reason other than to free me.
The floor was covered in generic white tiles and a sheet of dust that indicated nobody had used the room in a long time. Had it been a joke that I was getting a nice room, or was this the best t
hat they had?
I looked over the walls, which were painted a pale turquoise and were blank, save for a few wires running up to the wall toward the ceiling light. It was a single bulb and looked like it had been installed by someone other than a qualified electrician. They had just run a wire from outside of the room up the wall and onto the ceiling. There was no light switch to turn it on or off either. I guess I didn’t get to decide when I slept.
The bed that I sat on had plain white sheets that looked like they had been on the bed since the hospital had been abandoned. The frame was cheap metal, and there was no box support under the mattress. The bed was little more than a thin mattress lying on top of a net of springs. There wasn’t even a sheet to the cover the mattress with, just the top cover.
I had slept on worse. After I left home and my parents cut off financial support, I had to couch surf for some time before I managed to make enough to afford an apartment. Taking regular showers and having a decent place to sleep were privileges to me, not a God-given right.
I could feel a draft in the room, and I knew it was going to be hard to sleep at night. It was already cold in the small dress that I was wearing. Once night fell, I imagined it would be worse, and the blanket I had been given would barely make a difference.
I took a moment to gather up strength before checking out the bathtub. It was an old-style tub, with metal feet that were bolted into the floor. You didn’t see stuff like this anymore. It had probably been built in the 70s or even earlier. There was a large black crack that rang through the entire porcelain base, but it looked like it would still hold water. The only problem was, there was no faucet.
I guess I couldn’t clean up until someone brought me water. I was a bit worried that nobody would come to check on me at all, judging by the horrid condition of the room, and that I would waste away to a sunken-eyed corpse before my mother finished the Southside Syndicate trial.
“What have you gotten yourself into this time?” I muttered as I leaned over the bathtub and saw that the drain led straight onto the floor. It wasn’t even attached to anything. It seemed overkill that they wouldn’t include a proper drain in the room. Did they think I would grow so thin that I could slip through it and be flushed away with the sewage?
I chuckled at the thought, but it didn’t easy to panic that was beginning to set in. I was trapped in a place that looked like there was no escape from, and I doubted that anyone knew that I had been captured yet. The crazy thing was that the only person who would check on me would be my apartment landlord when I missed rent. Wild.
Shit.
Mrs. May was still in the apartment, waiting impatiently for me to come home and feed her. She would starve to death in there if I didn’t get back to her. For some reason, that was the most devastating thing about this situation. My imprisonment was a death sentence for Mrs. May.
I began paced back and forth in the room, my mind racing as I regained my full strength. There wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this, but perhaps I could get someone to feed the cat for me. It was the least I could do. It wasn’t like I had anything valuable in my apartment. I could give them the address and hope that they follow through with my request.
The more I thought about it, the more I was determined to get the hell out of this place. I didn’t care if I was risking my life by attempting an escape. I didn’t want to come back home to a dead cat and an eviction notice.
I sighed, sitting back down on my uncomfortable bed. I had no idea what time it was or how long I had been knocked out, but I suspected that I might have been out all night. It was most likely morning because I didn’t feel tired at all. If I had only been out for a few hours, I would have gotten sleepy again by now, as it would be late into the night.
I sprung back up off the bed and crept up to the door. There wasn’t any way to see out, aside from the crack at the bottom of the door. I lowered my body to the ground, breathing in the dry scent of dust, and peering under the door to see if I could gather useful information.
I didn’t see much. The light in the hallway was on, but there was nobody there. I doubted that there was even a guard at the door.
Damn, they must have been confident that I couldn’t get through this door.
I sighed sharply, blowing dust under the door. There wasn’t much I could do now but wait until someone came along to feed me. I figured they would eventually come around. I returned to my bed and laid down on my back, staring at the cracked ceiling blankly, trying not to think about Mrs. May. She would be furious by now that I hadn’t fed her.
Chapter Nine
I jerked up from my bed as I heard footsteps approaching my room. I had been zoned out for over an hour, and finally, someone was coming around to check on me. I couldn’t believe that I was already happy to face my captor again.
A key slid into the lock, and the bolt clacked open, echoing through the room and hallway. As soon as the door opened, I got to my feet, standing beside the bed with my hands clasped together in anticipation.
“Good afternoon,” the man in the white mask said, stepping into the room with a plate full of food.
“I hope that’s not poisoned, because I’m starving,” I said, trying to inject some humor into my dire situation.
“I wouldn’t poison you unless you got on my nerves,” the man replied, putting the plate down onto the floor. “I want you to eat and get washed up. I’ll bring you a plug for that bathtub and a bucket of hot water, along with a change of clothing. I’m sure you’re uncomfortable in that dress.”
There was something I didn’t like about the way he spoke. It was as though every word had a double meaning. I felt like I couldn’t trust him, and not just because he was keeping me as a prisoner. I felt like he had more plans for me, aside from just keeping me captive.
“What if I don’t feel comfortable taking a bath here?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Then I’ll bring a hose in and wash you down myself,” he grumbled, turning around sharply and slamming the metal door shut behind him.
I heard it lock, and then his footsteps briskly walking away, leaving me alone in the room with a plate full of hot food.
I walked toward the food, keeping my arms crossed defensively. Something wasn’t right about all this, but I was hungry. I doubted that he was going to poison me, especially if he wanted me to take a bath. The food wasn’t what bothered me. I was starving at this point, and it would feel good to have food in my belly.
What bothered me was that the masked man seemed to require that I bath and change into the clothes he would bring me. Why would he care if I looked presentable unless he wanted me for something? Maybe I was overthinking things, but I had enough negative encounters with men to know that there was a risk that they would try something cruel. I wasn’t dealing with saints here. These men were straight-up sinners.
I bent over and grabbed my plate, careful not to let the fork fall from the steaming rice as I brought it to my bed. I sat cross-legged on the mattress while I dug into my food. A spider clambered across the floor in front of me while I ate.
“Sorry, buddy, but I doubt you’d like this anyway. You probably prefer bugs.”
I often talked to Mrs. May in the same way. She would steal my food all the time, only to find that she didn’t like it. Talking to a simple spider still reminded me of her. I guess I had a soft spot for small creatures, even if they weren’t the kind you would want to keep as a pet.
“Hey, don’t come over here,” I said as the spider changed its path, walking quickly on its long legs toward the bed.
The spider ignored my words of caution, continuing to walk until it was under my bed. I guess it didn’t plan to climb up and steal my food. That would have been unfortunate because then I would have squashed the little guy.
I shoveled down the rest of my food and put the plate down on the floor. “Here, have fun,” I said to the spider. Maybe they did like human food. I didn’t know enough about them to know for sure.
&nbs
p; I have only just begun to settle back into bed with a full stomach when I heard footsteps coming down the hallway again. They were slower this time, and heavier. When the door opened, I could see why. The masked man was carrying two large buckets of hot water in either hand, with a questionable garment thrown over his shoulder.
I stood up again as he dumped the first bucket of water into the tub, paying no attention to me while he did it. In went the second bucket, and only then did he turn to me. “It’s not much, but it’s enough. I’m not hauling water back and forth for your luxury.”
“Well, I’m sure it will do,” I replied.
“Oh yes, and change into this,” the masked man said, pulling a small black garment from his shoulder and tossing it toward me.
It fluttered through the air, shining like my green silk dress had. I held it up as the masked man left my room again, locking the door behind him and hurrying off.
The garment that I had been given was barely clothing at all. It looked more like lingerie than a proper dress, and I was pretty sure that’s what it was. I didn’t want to wear this at all. I was more comfortable in the dirty dress that I was in.
My heart was racing as I placed the garment down on the bed beside me. I didn’t want to risk being hosed down by the masked man himself, but I was also very afraid of what would happen if I did take a bath and get changed in my room. What was I being prepared for?
I tried to think of a way to stall this, but the water was only going to get colder, and I did need to get cleaned up. I felt absolutely filthy after what I had been through. I looked around the room for cameras, and upon finding none, I climbed out of my dirty clothes and stepped into the shallow bathwater.
With how cold it was in the building, the hot water felt amazing against my skin. It was too bad there wasn’t much of it. Otherwise, I would have been tempted to relax in the tub for a while. Instead, I splashed the water onto my bare arms and legs, trying to rinse the caked-on sweat and dirt off my body before the water grew cold.