by A. R. Braun
Call it what you want. That was “La Cucaracha.”
He nodded. “Guess that doesn’t count as misbehaving. And I’m gonna test her by leaving the duct tape off her mouth. If she doesn’t scream tonight, then she’s being a good little girl.”
Oh, thank God.
“If she does scream, well … there’ll be consequences again.” He walked over and took Lelila’s hand. “Come on, babe. She’s got to spend the night without supper for trying to escape. No sex. That’s a privilege.”
A privilege? You fucking kidding me?
Lelila stood and sighed. “It’s … just so horrible.”
Yes, you bitch, get sane. You’d be a great help then.
He put his forehead against hers. “Sweetness, forget about the sex slave. It’s time for a romantic, candlelight dinner upstairs. Soft music and everything.”
Lelila squealed and hopped. “You mean it?”
He smooched her. “You bet. And make-up sex.”
She walked away with him, her arm around his waist.
“Some help here?” Scout yelled. “My arms are numb.”
“Nighty-night,” Mack cried, and turned out the one light bulb.
“What if other bugs try to climb in me?” Scout added.
But they were gone.
***
Scout tried to sleep the night away. After all, she’d gotten her injection. It was a futile effort. All she could think about was another cockroach trying to get up her ear. That had been the nastiest thing she’d ever experienced. And her hunger didn’t help.
So much for Lelila going sane. Radical acceptance made Scout’s heart sink. They’ve made up, and I’m back to square one.
This was worse than death.
Rats squirmed all over the cement floor. She could hear their pitter-pattering. Someone had told her they could eat babies in cribs in tenement houses. Could they climb up the bed and eat her?
Scout shuddered.
With much trepidation, she grew to hate her mother and father. Why hadn’t they found her? Mack’s truck sat in the driveway. So what if Mack and Lelila’s parents didn’t know where they were? Just look at the license plate, parents and police. Use a little common sense.
Not to mention Scout’s car.
Did she remember seeing the vehicles when she’d try to escape, or had she looked? She searched her memory bank—anything to keep her mind off the roaches and the rats—and the recollection started to come back to her.
When Lelila had come out of nowhere and put her hand over Scout’s mouth, she’d had a glimpse.
A two-car garage. Of course.
Scout slammed her head back onto the pillow. No hope.
Did she even exist anymore?
Still, good parents would be searching all over hell and high water. And what of the cops? Were they so corrupt or incompetent that they couldn’t find her? Didn’t anyone care about her plight?
Scout hated them.
Hunger pangs made her stomach growl. Without the proper diet, she’d get sick. She’d explained that to them.
Her vision was still blurry. She’d never been able to make out Mack’s tattoo. But she spied her stomach from the full moon’s light shining into the one window. Or maybe it was the streetlight. Her tummy was beginning to bulge out.
She knew what that meant.
Diabetic ketoacidosis. Metabolism change. Because they weren’t feeding her regularly.
She had to think about something else, or go mad.
Her thoughts returned to the window and the weak light spotlighting the room. What was out there? A dumpster? A back alley? If she could only get out of these restraints and grab a stereo speaker and bust out the window, then flee. But what would she find? An even worse trap then in here? Criminals wanting to gangbang her and stab her and leave her for dead?
She got a glimpse of the rats scurrying around, and now she wished the moon or streetlight would move away from the window. Long, furry little things, occasionally stopping to squeak and wriggle their noses at her. Long armadillo-like tails in tow. If one got onto the bed, she’d scream.
The scent of a stink bug wafted over to her. Her eyes traveled to the ceiling of the four-poster bed, where a brown insect hung right above her head.
God, she was ravenous. For a maddening instant, she imagined consuming the vermin just to have sustenance. She gagged.
The bug fell onto her protruding belly. She squealed and moved back and forth to dislodge it, but it held on. She could smell the insect’s ripe, putrid smell so well now she retched twice. Ultimately, she puked on the other pillow.
Scout shut her lips to stop keening so she wouldn’t make her captors angrier. At this point, she couldn’t afford to.
Long, arachnid legs crawled onto her mouth. A daddy long-legs, illuminated by the light cascading through the window. She shut her eyes and coughed. She opened them and tried to blow the spider off.
It held on. Then it crawled into her mouth.
Scout puked it out.
The stink bug tried to work its way into her belly button, an innie. Scout swayed from side to side, thrashing with incredible strength. Pure adrenaline. Yet it hung on despite the slimy sweat that covered her.
And with the puke, came the cockroaches and the halo of flies. They crawled and buzzed all over her. She shuddered, winced and writhed with horror. At one point, the spider devoured the stink bug.
She passed out.
***
Scout woke, not knowing what time it was. Heat pulsed through the room and covered her with perspiration. It felt like noon, but she wasn’t sure. No sign of the dynamic duo, either.
Oh, and it could be that they had a wonderful little romantic evening while I got sick with the bugs and the arachnid.
She’d forgotten all about her parents and the police. She needed to face it. They weren’t going to find her. Even the escape attempt had failed. The mailman should’ve been alarmed; he’d thought nothing of it, however.
Scout’s thoughts turned to how, yesterday, Lelila had shown her mercy as far as the fan, the medication and the food was concerned. And Mack, he was still a bastard, but at least he hadn’t held the screaming against her when the cockroach had climbed into her ear. Were they her parents now?
Her mind lurched at the insane thought.
For God’s sake, they’re my age!
Stockholm syndrome had begun, apparently. She hoped not.
And what was God worth if He couldn’t even get her out of here? Scout hated Him, too.
Or should she? Her mouth was free now. She could pray.
She began her supplication, thanking Him for his grace as her youth pastor had taught her to do, and she said she was sorry for her sins, sorry for getting drunk, smoking pot and coming over here.
Then she begged Him to get her out of there.
Typically, He was on vacation again.
***
Mack and Lelila came down the stairs. They held hands and had looks of peace in their eyes. They pulled up a couple chairs and sat, looking down on her.
Scout could hardly breathe from the sweltering weather, thanks to the bastard removing the fan and not turning on the air conditioning. She was slicked with sweat.
She blinked her bleary eyes. “W-what … time is it?”
Mack looked at his watch. “It’s one p.m.”
Scout locked eyes with him. “I’ll behave, okay? Okay? Please let me have some food and medicine. Please let me go to the bathroom. I’ve got an overactive bladder thanks to the diabetes … gulp … and I’ve been going crazy holding it in.”
Mack brought Lelila’s hand over to his right leg. “Well, Lel’s got an announcement she wants me to make.”
“Please, I’m starving. My stomach’s bulging out. I’ve got metabolism dysregulation from lack of food and water.” Scout took a few heavy breaths and gulped another dry swallow.
Mack chuckled. “I’m not really into it—well, to tell the truth, I never was—but Lel’ here feels
you should have a Bible study on Sunday afternoons, to keep you in tune with, um, Him.”
“Your Jesus,” Lelila blurted.
Scout noticed Lel’ had the tattoo between her right thumb and forefinger, also.
Mack held his other hand out, palm-up. “See, I went to church in the past, as you know, but I’m not much of a Christian.”
“No kidding,” Scout muttered under her breath.
“What?”
Scout shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Anyway …” More laughter. “Like I said, I never was a saint. But, ahem, Lel’ knows you are, I guess.”
Lelila looked daggers at him out of the corners of her eyes.
“It’s not like we can go anymore,” Mack continued. “So Lel’ wants to bring it to you.”
Lelila nodded.
Scout was wheezing now. So this is the help God gives: Bible study in the dungeon. I hate His guts. “Are you kidding me?”
Mack smiled and turned his head to the side, then locked eyes with her. “Would I shit you? You’re my favorite turd.” He busted out laughing.
Lelila pulled her hand away and elbowed him in the ribs.
Scout couldn’t stop herself from saying it: “Well, that’s just peachy. So Christian to rape me and tie me up, handcuff me to the bedpost, but then read me the fucking Bible.”
Mack wagged his finger at her. “Ah, ah, ah, you said you’d behave! Are you going to let us down? If so, no medicine, no food and no potty break.”
“This whole kidnapping thing was his idea,” Lelila admitted. “I had to get drunk to be bi. Anyway, no use of you going to hell. You suffer so much, why be damned, too?”
Scout pondered this. That’s asinine. I’m already in hell. But I’d better toe the line or I won’t eat, drink, shit, piss or get my medicine. “All right, fine, I’m sorry. I’d love to have a Bible study.”
Lelila stood and bounced as she had a habit of doing. “I’ll go get the Bible.” She charged up the stairs.
Mack gave Scout the look of death, furrowing his brow. “Now you listen to me, bitch. I know you just heard me. I ain’t no Christian, and you don’t wanna mess with me. Be a good little girl if you want your privileges, including some hot-ass sex tonight.
“Or I’ll kill your ass.”
Scout heard him loud and clear. She was sure she was bug-eyed, and she nodded.
“You see,” he continued, “what we have here is called ‘autonomy.’ It’s a word I learned in school … before I dropped out. It means ‘self-government.’ Lel’ and I are judge, jury and executioner, if you don’t calm down and do what we say. You feel me?”
Do I have a choice?
“Yes,” she whispered.
He put his hand behind his ear. “What say? Say somethin’! Dare ya. Say somethin’!”
“Yes,” she spoke out.
He nodded his head, his eyes crazier than a bedbug. “Good, that’s real good. Then we’ll get along just fine.”
Scout doubted that.
“I mean, either way, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. See, I got some evil shit planned that’ll curl your toes. But you’ll behave, or your body will remain neglected, got me?”
“What do you have planned?” she sobbed.
“Stay tuned and you’ll see. Don’t touch that dial!” Mack cackled as he walked upstairs.
Oh no! The worst is yet to come!
And, just like that, the panic attack she’d been on the verge of came around full circle.
CHAPTER NINE
Scout winced as Lelila, fluttering the onion-skin pages, came skipping across the floor with a Bible. “Time for basement church.”
Somebody shoot me. These people are crazy.
Lelila sat by the bed while Mack stood waving the gun. He went over to the stereo and turned on Sacred Heart by Dio.
Lelila wheeled on him. “Do you mind? Trying to give a Bible study here! Hel-lo!”
Mack hissed like the snake he was and shook his head. He flicked the remote, pausing it.
The heat in the basement became so intense Scout gagged. “Can I—getch!—have the fan? Please?”
Mack pointed the gun at her. “No fucking way. Quit tryin’ to escape and we’ll give you a fan.”
Apparently trying to find an appropriate lesson, Lelila continued to flip through her Bible. Scout was sure whatever she found would warn against doing what this couple was up to.
Just humor them so I can get my meal and medicine.
Lelila’s face brightened. “Oh! Okay, I think this will do.” She droned on from the Bible, reading in a monotone and tripping over words she was too stupid to pronounce.
Scout considered correcting her, but that would probably lead to more punishment. Sweat dripped off her arms and chest now. The bed sheets had become so filthy they reeked.
Mack jumped. Scout watched a showdown between a rat and their fearless leader, the rodent twitching its nose. Mack shot it and blood squirted from the vermin, painting the floor a dark crimson.
“Jesus Christ!” Lelila had turned in her seat.
“You rang?” Mack chuckled.
“Will you stop?” Lelila heaved a heavy sigh as she turned around. “Okay.” The stupid girl’s ignorance could be seen from space. “He has come to preach … de-liv-er-ance … to the … captives?”
“Oh, God in heaven.” Scout crashed her head down on the back of the pillow. She closed her eyes and willed the idiot seminar away.
There’s your scripture, dumbass. What you’re doing is wrong.
Mack laughed his ass off, then stooped to look at the ruined rodent.
Ruined Rodent. There’s a good name for a punk-rock band.
Scout almost laughed. Almost.
Lelila shut the book with a thump. “Okay! Let’s sing a hymn, then we’re done.”
Scout shook her head.
“Any requests?”
Scout sighed. “Do you even know any hymns?”
Lelila furrowed her brow. “Of course I know some hymns. I’ve been in the church since I was a baby, duh.” She paused, apparently to think. It looked like it hurt. Suddenly, her mouth formed an o and her eyes widened. She clapped, then sang “High and Lifted Up.”
“What about the verse?” Scout was enjoying this.
Lelila gave her a blank stare.
Mack sat propped up against the huge stereo. He laughed hysterically again.
Lelila continued with the song.
Oh, this is retarded.
“Come on, you’re not singing.”
Scout sighed. Comply or you’ll starve and die. She forced the notes out of her mouth.
Lelila raised her voice and sang with her. Offbeat, of course.
Mack laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe.
Bring it on home.
Lelila sang the obsequious ending of the song, or tried to. “Na-nuh-bah-duh-de-duh,” she guessed.
Oh, my Lord Christ, kill me right now. Please, take me, deliver me from Lelila, please!
Mack was doubled-over with laughter.
Lelila slapped her knees. “Okay. Good job.”
“Can I have some lunch and my insulin, please?” Scout struggled to breathe.
“Um … Mack?” Lelila had turned to look at a young man trying desperately to keep a straight face.
He motioned toward them with the gun. “Meal first, then insulin, then potty and a shower. It’s time to put those clean sheets on the bed. I can’t stand the smell in here anymore.”
“No kidding,” Scout agreed, hoping they wouldn’t hear the satire in her voice.
Mack pointed at the rat. “It’s bringing pests.”
“I’ll get lunch.” Lelila had a lost look on her face before she turned toward the stairs.
“And Mack?” Scout gagged again. “Is there any way we can get an exterminator?”
He stood and aimed the gun at her. Finally, he let it fall. “You’re a laugh riot, you are. Who can afford an exterminator?” he mocked. “I’ll get some of that shit on t
he TV commercial—if I bother to go to Walmart. You know, the syringe stuff?”
“Combat gel.” Another heavy sigh. “And mouse traps and d-CON.”
“If you behave.”
“I will. Thank you.”
They weren’t silent for two seconds before Mack fist-pumped and cackled like a witch. “High and so fucked up! Sticking my dick into your pussy. Pour out your squirty come, singing: fuck me master, fuck me deep!” He laughed so hard he fell on the floor. After five minutes of belly heaving so that he again struggled to breathe, he turned and flicked the remote at the stereo, bringing Dio back on.
Great dinner music. I can’t believe this shit.
“Dio, Tupac, Biggie Smalls—all my heroes are dead,” Mack quipped.
I wish you were.
Scout ran escape strategies through her head. Anything was an option. She thought over all the moves from when she’d been so bored she’d watched the UFC. The knee in the nuts had worked. Perhaps a roundhouse to the side of his or her head?
Lelila clomped down the stairs with a tray. “Bing, bing, bing, bing, bing! Come. And. Get it!”
Unbelievable.
Scout knew Lelila was forcing herself to have fun, making the most out of this impossible situation. If she truly looked it in the face, she’d thrown her life down the toilet and could hope for prison for a future instead of college.
Or had she? Mack and Lelila didn’t fear capture by the police.
Scout’s arms were way beyond numb. She didn’t even know they were there anymore. “Please, can you unlock the cuffs so I can eat?” Scout gagged four more times.
Mack sat in a chair near the stereo, moving his head up and down to the beat.
“Mack!” Lelila set the tray down on Scout’s chest.
She held still, lest she upend it.
He turned to face Lelila. He paused the stereo. “What?”
“Keys!”
Mack tossed them to her, but waved the weapon. “Remember, Scout, if you try to escape, I’m right over here with the gun. I’ve got a pretty good shot, and I’m too far away for you to knock the weapon out of my hand.”
Scout nodded.
“’You know karate, I know crazy’, my man James Brown said,” Mack added.
I know karate and crazy.
“Please?” Scout whispered to Lelila.