Held (23 page)

After a while, he said, “Damn it.”

He stopped, sat back on his heels, ran his fingers through his hair and wiped the sweat from his face. While he struggled to control his ragged breathing, he stared at me.

Deciding to give it another go, he forced himself into me again. He stared into my eyes. When it was apparent to him that just slamming into me wasn’t going to bring him to orgasm, he wrapped his right hand around my throat and squeezed.

When his squeeze became tight enough to restrict my airway, I started to struggle. I jerked my head back and forth, desperately trying to shake his hand off my neck. I gasped for air and tried to scream. He laughed and continued going at me, seeming to enjoy it now.

As he grew closer to climaxing, his grip around my throat tightened and my vision grew dark. When he closed his eyes in ecstasy, I closed mine in submission
, both welcoming Death and hoping he would pass me by.

I was shocked awake by the cold water hitting my face. I opened my eyes and turned my head. Ron was standing beside me spraying me again with the hose. Up and down he went, spraying my body.

“You’re a pretty dirty girl, Nicole,” he said while he sprayed me. “We’ve got to keep you clean.” He walked down and stood between my legs, spraying my private area. “We need to keep this clean,
now don’t we?”

I’d thought I was cold before, but lying on a cold wet concrete floor while being sprayed with cold water made me rethink it. I was freezing. My teeth were starting to chatter.

“Please,” I managed to say between teeth chatters.

“Please what?”

“Let me go.”

“Let you go?” He stopped spraying me.

I nodded.

“You want to go?”

I nodded again.

“Where do you want to go, Nicole?”

“Home,” I said, my teeth clicking harder.

Ron threw down the hose and stomped away, toward the cabinet.

I closed my eyes and hoped he was just going to turn off the water. When I opened them, I saw that I was wrong. He hadn’t turned off the water. What he had done was retrieved the knife. The same knife he’d used to carve my name into other women’s flesh. The very same knife he performed mastectomies with.

The dim light
of the bare bulbs bounced off the shiny blade and briefly illuminated Ron’s eyes as he turned the knife around in front me, making sure I saw it. When he saw my eyes fall to the blade, he smiled. Not the usual smile he gave me. This was an evil smile. The smile of someone about to do something bad. Something very bad.

“Nicole, you know what I’m starting to think?” When I didn’t answer, he yelled, “Do you?”

I shook my head slowly, which took all my waning strength.

“I’m starting to think you don’t love me. I’m starting to think you don’t even like me. Only someone with no heart could not like someone like me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I nodded slowly, feeling that this is what he wanted me to do.

Ron slowly lowered the knife to my chest. I thought he was bluffing. Even as I felt the tip of the long blade poke into my cold flesh I thought he was bluffing. I was certain he’d say something he found to be clever, and then he’d stop. But I was wrong.
It seemed I was always wrong.

He sliced into me and I screamed. I didn’t want to
, but the pain was terrible. It was sharp and it burned, making any paper cut I’d ever had seem like lotion on the skin. He made two cuts that crossed each other in the middle, forming an X between my breasts. When he was done carving on me, I lay crying and shivering.

“If you ever make me think you don’t love me again, I’ll open you up right there,” he said as he tapped on the cut with the bloody blade. “
Where X marks the spot. And I’ll find out if you have a heart or not. Do you understand that?”

When I failed to answer quickly, he stuck the tip of the knife in the center of the cut where the two lines met and twisted it.

I nodded.

“Good.”

He got up and used the hose to rinse the blood from the blade. He returned the knife to the cabinet and finished hosing me down. When the water filled the open cuts on my chest, the burning intensified and I cried harder.

When Ron felt he’d sufficiently
cleansed me, he turned off the water.

My entire body trembled uncontrollably. My teeth clanked together
loudly.

I was so caught up in my agony, I didn’t notice Ron digging around in a dark corner of the basement. It wasn’t until he turned it on that I realized what he’d been doing.
He’d dug out a fan, plugged it in, and set it on the floor at my feet. It blew air up and over my body, making me colder than I already was.

“Can’t leave you down here wet, now can I?” He smiled and turned to leave. At the bottom of the steps, he said, “I’ll be back soon.” At the top of the steps, he said, “You’ll be happy to know that the book is coming along nicely. I’ll be finished in no time. Isn’t that great?”

I planned to nod in response, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and walked through the door, leaving me freezing and bleeding on the basement floor.

Cold. It was so cold. My muscles had been tense with shivering for so long, they ached and knotted up in spasms. My teeth clanked together so hard, I was sure they’d shatter at any moment. I couldn’t feel my toes. I could barely tell that I was wiggling them, which made them ache and throb angrily. It’s the only way I could remind myself that they were there.

The only good thing about being so cold was it numbed my skin just enough to ease the burning and stinging sensation radiating from the
open wound on my chest. I still couldn’t believe he’d cut me. He’d actually cut me. If I wasn’t so worried about starving, thirsting, and freezing to death, I would’ve spent more time contemplating that. But as it turns out, I had more important things to worry about.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. At this point, I welcomed the darkness. When I was unaware of my situation, I could escape the pain. It was the only time I could.

Having no way to keep track of time, I wasn’t sure how many days passed before Ron came back. As much as I hated to admit it, I was glad to see him.

“Nicole,” he said and nudged me with his foot the way he’d done all the others before me.

I slowly opened my eyes, afraid that if I didn’t, he’d deliver one of those hard blows to the ribs he was so fond of giving the ladies.

“You look terrible.” He stood over me, soaking me in with his eyes. Finally, he shook his head and squatted beside me. “It’s a shame. Such a shame it had to come to this.”

I thought he was going to kill me. I almost hoped he would just to end my suffering.

But he didn’t kill me. Instead, he began releasing my wrists and ankles from the shackles. Had I not been so close to death, I would’ve kicked his ass and ran. But I could barely roll my head to the side, much less fight or run.
It took all my strength to blink, which I had to do because I sure couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time.

“You’ve really took a turn for the worse in the four days since I saw you last.”

Four days? That meant I’d been in the basement nine days total. Nine days without food. Nine days with almost no water. Nine days.

As he picked me up and car
ried me up the stairs, I caught a glimpse of my legs draped across his arm. My skin was a pale shade of blue. I looked up at him. I wanted to kill him. But more urgently, I wanted to eat. And drink. And sleep.

When Ron stepped into the hallway,
I expected the warmth of the house to rush over me, but it didn’t. Or if it did, I couldn’t feel it. My skin was numb. He looked at me lying in his arms and asked, “Do you need to use the restroom?”

Though it took all my strength,
I shook my head.

“Do you want to shower?”

I tried to shake my head again, but didn’t have the strength. I managed to whisper, “No.” I guess he heard me. He carried me to my room. Before he could put me on the bed and cover my bluish body, I’d closed my eyes and welcomed the relief that came with the darkness.

When I woke, I wasn’t sure where I was. I didn’t recognize the room. It took a few minutes for me to remember the situation I was in.

T
he sun shone through the window and fell across the bed brightly. I lay there for a while, unmoving. My stomach wasn’t really rumbling anymore. It was aching. All of my insides ached. My mouth was so dry, I was sure that if I moved my tongue, it would stick to the roof of my mouth.

Faintly,
I could hear Ron across the hall clicking away at the keys of his computer.

Deciding to call to him, I tried to lick my lips, but
it was no use. In fact, calling to him was no use either. My tongue was dry as a bone and so was my throat. Maybe that was why my voice refused to work. An ungreased wheel won’t roll.

It was too much work, too much effort. I just couldn’t do it. I closed my eyes, exhausted.

The next time I opened them, the room was orange with the angry glow of the setting sun. I didn’t hear the clicking of the keys anymore. I wondered where Ron was. I considered calling to him, but remembered my previous failed attempt and pushed the thought away.

As I closed my eyes, ready to give myself back to the peaceful sleep I longed for, I heard Ron come into the room. Slowly, I opened my eyes again and looked to Ron, who stood beside the bed looking at me.

“Finally.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to the bedside table where a pitcher of water set. He poured a glass.

He put one hand behind my head and lifted it slightly off the pillow. He put the cup to my lips. I tried to make my lips purse to the cup to drink, but they were dry and stiff and refused to cooperate.
So Ron slowly poured a little water into my mouth through my slightly parted lips. The water was cold and marvelous. My throat was too dry to swallow, so I opened my throat and let the water slide down.

It hurt at first, but felt good after that. I didn’t drink to
o much. I didn’t want to vomit.

“
I’ll be right back,” said Ron after returning the glass of water to the bedside table. He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a small bowl and a spoon. He sat on the bed again and scraped the spoon through the bowl. He brought it to my mouth. “It’s applesauce. It’ll be easy on your stomach and won’t hurt to swallow.”

He was right.
It didn’t hurt to swallow, though the acid stung. I didn’t even care about that. I just wanted more.

After feeding me, Ron left and I slept.
It was an uneasy sleep, though. I periodically woke up, stomach racked with cramps.

Finally, morning came and with it, Ron. He came in and gave me water, which I was able to swallow. He fed me more applesauce, which I was also able to swallow. I was happy to learn that I could lick my lips without breaking them, though my upper lip did spli
t in the middle the first time.

“Do you feel better today?”

“Yes,” I managed to say. My throat was sore, but at least it worked today.

“Good. You had me worried.”

I wanted to remind him that it was his fault. I didn’t have the energy to say it, and I had the wisdom to know that it was a bad idea anyway.

As Ron got up, claiming he had to get back to his book, I asked to use the bathroom.

“Sure,” he said. He released me from the bed and had to help me stand. As much as I hated it, I had to lean on him to walk to the bathroom. I’d never been so weak in all my life.

When we reached the bathroom, he opened the
door and flipped on the light.

“Do you need me to come in and help you?”

I considered it. I probably did need his help. But I needed my dignity and pride more.

“No. I’ll steady myself against the counter.”

“Okay. If you need me, call out. I’ll be right here.”

I walked into the bathroom and Ron closed the door behind me. Wobbly, I sat on the toilet. I closed my eyes as the dizziness came and went. Though I’d felt like I had to pee a bucketful, barely anything came out. It was reassuring to know
that my plumbing still worked.

After wiping and flushing, I made my way to the sink and washed my hands
, taking care with the forefinger of my left hand. I opened the drawer and picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste. After squirting a glob of paste on the bristles, I brought the brush to my mouth and looked in the mirror. I froze at the sight of myself.

I knew I looked terrible, but I wasn’t prepared to actually see myself in this condition. Having seen the other girls in the basement, I had an idea of what to exp
ect. But to see it was a shock.

My hair was greasy and dirty, hanging in stringy strands. My skin was pale and blotchy. My lips were white and cracked. My eyes had large, dark circles around them. Gone were my round cheeks, repl
aced by sharp cheekbones.