by Lee Kerr
The sirens in the distance suddenly go off again and it’s enough to bring his focus back to the door, and just as he turns I see that it’s Detective Marius. He doesn’t turn around again; instead, he goes inside and closes the door. I run closer, suddenly finding courage, knowing this might be the only chance I get. I’m soon at the wall of the house and my heart is beating faster than I ever thought possible.
I’m about to push open the door, to storm in and try to catch him off-guard, when I realise that I have left the gun behind the bush. I curse myself, knowing I’ve blown my only chance, but as I consider my limited options I realise that I haven’t heard any locks turn.
I quickly run through the garden, snaking my way around the edges, trying to be invisible, just in case he has found a gap through one of those windows.
Before I know it, I am back and standing opposite the door, my weapon held up to the moonlight so I can check the safety. I’m still not totally sure but I convince myself that it is loaded and ready to fire. I realise that I’m finding any reason I can not to go in, not to face whatever horror is awaiting me. Only the thought of Lucy pushes me forward. I put my hand on the handle and I think of her now, alone and desperate, and somehow it gives me the strength to do what I must. I push down on the cold metal, take a deep breath, and slowly creep into the unknown.
*****
‘You’re sure it was him?’ one of the men asks from somewhere outside her room. Lucy can make out each of the voices, although she only recognises one of them. Her man – her regular tormentor – says very little but she knows it’s him. Each and every time she awakes from that forced sleep, her body aching and her head spinning out of control, it is his voice she hears. And every time she wakes up, she knows that he has already started. He seems to get a kick out of realising she has woken up, his cock getting obviously firmer as she realises what is happening to her, and only then does she remember the horrors he has already inflicted and is about to repeat.
She knows that he always grinds slowly at first, almost tenderly, as he lets her ligaments adapt to the restraints and he kisses her face. The infra-red goggles almost always bang against her temple as he slobbers all over her – it would almost be laughable if she didn’t know what was coming next. The last time is the one that she remembers the clearest: he was preparing for his final onslaught when he leaned in closer to tell her she would never leave him, and that she was, and forever will be, his secret slice of life. He promised that what had happened to the other women wouldn’t happen to her. She was safe but his always.
Lucy knows he is coming now but she also knows something is different this time. She has never heard any of her jailors speak before, but now they are freely talking to each other outside her prison cell. She should be fast asleep right now, the shower and the pill doing their usual thing. But not this time, not with that hero inside her gathering all those small victories and putting them together into a plan. Lucy’s mind is working overtime now – from her chemistry degree she knows that alcohol destroys most of the potency of the sedative, especially when held in her mouth for a minute or two. He was careless this time, not following his usual routine, not checking her mouth properly, something making him rush.
She’s awake when she should be asleep, able to hear every word from outside. ‘He was in the garden, I’m sure of it,’ the unknown man says.
She wonders if they are talking about Harvey – she hopes with every ounce of her remaining self that it is him. She knows there are others here; she knows it could be another saviour for another prisoner. She wastes no more time thinking of men as her thoughts turn to the other captive women, and how she will be the one to make this right.
‘I knew he would show up again,’ her man says. Her man? She curses herself for having such thoughts, for allowing herself to think of him as more than a rotten piece of meat. She vows to show him what he is to her when he comes in. He will mount her and she will take her time as much as he takes his, waiting for the moment, knowing this will be his last ever defiling of all that she is.
She tells herself to be quiet, wondering if she is speaking out loud. She sits up, just about to undo her last restraint, still eternally blessed that the left one just a little too loose; something in the knot, never quite doing its job. When she hears them still talking she finishes her work, gets down from the table and starts feeling her way around. Even the blackness cannot hold her back now and she moves around with relative ease. She hasn’t spent the last few days being idle, however many of them there have been; she is a long way from being that girl who cried in the corner. She has observed, planned and above all got to know her way around this room. In some ways it now feels like her home; in fact, it’s more hers than his and she knows every groove and crevice. It’s her biggest asset and she plans to use every bit of it.
‘You know that we don’t have any more time. I say we leave him and let the monsters have their feast. It’s the perfect distraction. We have enough of them left to trade, so now we just have to sit back and let this storm pass.'
She listens to them talking, the other one clearly convincing her man of whatever this plan is. She pictures him nodding and knows that she doesn’t have long. She finds what she is looking for and checks it will still do its job, before making her way back to the table.
She is about to jump back onto it and do up her ankle restraints when she catches her foot on something. She stumbles and wants to scream but quickly puts a hand over her mouth, trying to steer her thoughts away from this new pain. What was it? A nail or something? She sits on the table, her fingers finding the moist patch on the sole of her foot. She rubs it, feeling what is flowing out of this new wound. She licks her finger, the taste telling her what she already knew. She senses dripping onto the floor, can tell it’s bleeding more than she had hoped.
She suddenly looks up, hearing the conversation as it seems to come to an end: ‘Come help me seal up the door and let’s have a drink to celebrate all that we have achieved.’
No, she thinks, not now. She is torn: she wants to have time to fix her wound but doesn’t feel able to endure another hour in this silent hell. She lies herself back on the table, unsure how bad it is but knowing she must ignore the pain. She needs it to happen now; he must come in and finish what he started. He knows the drug will wear off soon and she knows it must happen now, before she is trapped in whatever tomb these monsters have created.
‘You go seal it and I’ll finish up here.’
‘Can’t you leave her just the once? You know we have more important things to do.’
She gasps as she tightens the binds on her ankles, aware that she may be pushing more blood down her leg and out of the hole that she cannot see, as she starts an agonising wait for him to come in.
‘No, nothing is more important than what I do every evening and what I will do every evening for as long as we are in here. It is my release and it gives me purpose. Remember that I have worked hard to create all of this while you were speeding around in your car, doing your apparent detective work.’
There’s a pause, a moment where she imagines her man and this other once facing off against each other. ‘Remember that it’s my apparent detective work that got us all these women.’
‘And I intend to enjoy this one more than all the others. She will be mine each and every day until the end of this stinking world.’
She hears him laugh. ‘You’ll split her open if you’re not careful.’
‘Never you mind what I do to her and just remember she is mine and mine only.’
Lucy waits, her head lifted up and her mind frantically telling her to relax into position. Thoughts run through her head. She struggles to believe that one of the men outside is a detective. Still shaking, she thinks of her captor; she is terrified at the thought of what he is going to do and the lifetime he plans to do it for. Remember your place, remember you are asleep, that little hero tells her. She takes hold of each of the ropes wrapped lightly around her wris
ts, hoping that through his infra-red lens they won’t look different from usual. She knows that he pays them no attention when she is awake and only releases them when he is done, quickly leaving her alone to fall off the table and find those rags in the corner of the room, which are her only comfort after every ordeal. But she doesn’t know what he does at the start, when she is asleep. Does he touch her there? Does he check that the restraints are still tight? She has no time to worry about that, and she tugs at each of the knots on her feet, which are as strong as he usually makes them. If it all goes well she won’t need her legs, but she worries about the wound, becoming convinced that she can hear blood dripping onto the cold, hard floor.
‘We agreed she is yours, so don’t worry about me. But you know she might be better in the basement with the others. If we have to hide for a few days you won’t be able to get to her up here. They can sense the blood moving through our bodies.’
‘I have insulated this room just as you showed me, so she stays here, okay?’
Lucy doesn’t hear the answer, if there is one. She thinks of the distant news reports she heard before she was taken and can only imagine what horrors have emerged since then. Only when she hears the door open and shuts her eyes, playing as dead as she can, does she realise that she is on an upper floor – maybe an attic? It doesn’t matter now and will never matter if she isn’t able to defeat the terrors on the inside first; after that, she can start worrying about those on the outside.
She keeps her eyes closed and her body limp; her senses heightened as she hears the steps of her enemy in this quiet place, and she thinks of only her freedom that’s edging a little closer. Just climb on and give it to me, she thinks; waste no time with your usual torment. Do your worst, and do it as quickly as possible, she prays, and then I will do mine.
*****
I can’t hear him and I don’t know if he is waiting around some dark corner to pounce on me. It’s obvious that he has a lot more training than I do; he will be far more conditioned in the use of a gun. My only advantage is surprise and I try to remember that, even though I’ve been left no choice but to use my torch. The dark house is full of obstacles that I don’t remember from my one previous visit here. I’ve searched downstairs and found nothing and so he has to be up there, I think, as I look up the stairs.
Helicopters are flying overhead with such regularity now that they almost seem to be timetabled. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard some of them firing weapons; masses of bullets spraying towards something in the distance.
I suddenly hear movement upstairs and the creaking of the floorboards above me. Maybe he has been spooked by the choppers; he will know more than I know and I expect him to come running down the stairs. I wait for a few seconds but hear nothing more. I think of Lucy trapped in a room with him as he does all manner of unmentionable things to her, and I know I can’t wait any longer.
I move quickly up the stairs, my gun pointed forward and the end of the barrel following the lead of my torch. As soon as I reach the landing I look around and see several doors, plus another staircase. I pick the first door, the room I thought I heard noise coming from. I take hold of the handle and push the door open, almost falling into the room as I try to process everything I see and register any threat quick enough to fire before he does. I see a bed and a woman lying on it – blonde hair, as light as Lucy’s – her back to me. I spin my body around the room, pointing the gun into every corner, making sure he isn’t hiding somewhere.
I suddenly think that I see him hiding behind the door and so I fall to the floor, my arm extended. My eyes confirm it’s just a shadow; just a fraction of a second more and I would have fired. I stay lying down and push the door closed with my foot, figuring it’s better to keep a barrier between Marius and me.
I then turn around, crawling the short distance to the bed. ‘Lucy?’ I say, barely a whisper. ‘I have finally found you.’ I kneel at the side of the bed and put the gun on the floor, close enough to me but out of sight and risk of going off. I call her name again, gently sliding one arm underneath her body as the other one prepares to embrace her. She groans as I slowly move her and then turn her body to face me.
She says nothing in return as I lay down her body in a new position. Now I am able to look at her properly and as I do so I gasp and fall backwards. I keep looking, my mind struggling with what I see, trying to understand what has happened. ‘You’re not Lucy,’ I finally say, looking at the young woman before me. Even despite the mask of matted blood, sweat and obvious pain I can see that she is beautiful, but she is not Lucy. I look at her arm, which is covered in marks – scars caused by the things she has been forced to endure and the way she has been kept restrained.
I try to touch her as she turns over again, but even when I shake her I get only the slightest groan. I know it won’t be easy to get her out of here. ‘I will help you, do you hear me?’ I say, as I stroke her exposed cheek.
She says nothing as I stand up. Before I can do anything I know that I need to find Lucy. I think of asking if she knows anything and if she saw anyone else, but I know that she cannot help me now. I grab the gun and head to the door, my thoughts on the rest of the house and if I will find Lucy in a similarly terrifying situation.
Once I’m out of the room things move quickly, as I start to search everywhere. I follow my standard pattern, launching through each door and pointing my weapon at every dark corner, determined to fire on anything that moves – almost willing myself to release it on someone or something.
Despite searching every room, I don’t find my lover or my enemy; only three young women, spread across the different rooms on this floor. With every door that I open I find a new nightmare, but not one that holds Lucy. I look up the next set of stairs, knowing that I only have one option left. I know that I haven’t been quiet but he still hasn’t come down here to fend me off.
I look at the woman standing next to me; her clothes are torn and her body is bruised. Her eyes are surrounded by red craters and I can only imagine what she has been through, but I’m thankful she is half-smiling and grateful that at least one of those I rescued was awake. She looks up those same stairs and takes a step forward, as if nothing in this place can truly scare her anymore.
I take a gentle hold of her arm and pull her back towards me. ‘Get the other two out and wait for me in the garden. Try to hide somewhere.’
She looks at me for a moment, perhaps no longer willing to obey anyone, perhaps wanting to grab the gun off me and carry out her own form of justice.
‘What’s your name?’ I whisper.
‘Terry,’ she whispers back, in a raspy voice that probably hasn’t been used for days, maybe even weeks.
I nod, silently acknowledging her. ‘Whoever is up there, I promise I will make them pay. They have taken my girlfriend and I want her back. We don’t have much time so trust me and focus on getting the others out.’
She finally nods and tiptoes to the first room. I wish I could go with her, help her through the obvious trauma of seeing how she must have looked to me, but I know Lucy must be on the last of the floors, and I have to find her. Terry says that she didn’t see any other women, doesn’t know any Lucy, and so the empty room must have been hers. I can’t bear to look in it again, to see the pain she has gone through since I left her, and so I follow the only path left open for me, up the stairs and into the attic.
I don’t even check the safety on the gun, but I feel entirely ready to use it, to end the lives of these two men, to see their guts spread across a wall of my choosing. The thought of taking Lucy into my arms whilst carrying her down the stairs and into my car is the only thing I need, and as I shine my path ahead, I think only of how I am going to win this war.
I finish my climb and stand outside the only door on this level. I have no other choice but to go in there and face my fear. I was as quiet as I could be climbing the wooden steps, although nearly all of them creaked as I made my way up. I figure they must know I’m coming and will
have set some sort of trap. A sudden wave of relief falls over me; it’s so inappropriate, but the presence of these abused women has validated my suspicion. I may not have my Lucy but I have my convictions, and although it’s not much help it gives me the strongest purpose I have ever felt.
I put one hand near the handle and the other one held up to shoulder height, the gun poised, ready to fire, knowing that I must face Carlos and Marius together; two strong men against just me. I burst through the door and do my usual routine, pointing my gun at each corner of the room as my brain tries to process what I can see. My assault is accompanied by a loud scream and I spin around as quickly as I can. I soon find I’m turning again, as my scattered mind fails to locate any threat. I calm myself down, looking for another door, another bed, another place Lucy could be.
I soon accept that she isn’t in this room. There is only one bed and it looks as used as the others – a pattern of sinister stains covers the once-white sheets. It looks that whoever was here suffered the same treatment as all the others, but they have since been moved on.
I sit on the bed and touch one of the red stains, tormenting myself by wondering if it came from under Lucy’s tender skin. I put my head in my hands, the gun clashing with my forehead, as I wonder where she is, and where Marius and Carlos have managed to hide themselves. I start to cry. My tears flow freely as I think about what I have allowed to happen; those I have rescued are just not enough.
It’s all too much – everything happening out there, all that’s happened in here – and so I take a firm grip of the gun. I have to be with her and wherever she goes I will follow.
‘Where are you, Lucy?’ I ask out loud, as the barrel of my new friend finds the side of my head, presenting me with the only real option I have left.