Held (5 page)

“Yes, the basement is a nasty place, and I like you too much to put you down there. Yet, anyway.” He smiled. I didn’t.

He unlocked the cuff from the kitchen table, but not from my wrist. He held it tightly and pulled me up. He held my shackled wrist in one hand and put his other arm around me, squeezing my shoulder slightly a
s he led me down the hallway.

“You know, if you let me go right now, I’ll never tell.”

“Now you and I both know that’s not true, Nicole. That’s the first thing you would do.”

We kept walking down the hallway, past the basement door, past the bathroom door. At the end of the hall was a door on each side. We stopped and stood while he thought aloud again.

“Let’s see. Would you like to sleep with me, or alone?”

“Alone,” I said quickly. The thought of sleeping with him sent a chill down my spine
and a ripple through my stomach.

“Yes, I suppose for now you may sleep alone. But it won’t always be that way,” he said and kissed the top of my head. If I threw up now, my heart would surely come up with the sandwich and the vodka because it had beaten its way right out of its place in my chest. It felt like it was flapping around in circles. I did my best to show no fear.

“Come on then,” he said and led me through the door on the left. This left me assuming that the door on the right was the door to his bedroom. I fought to keep away the images of what his room must be like.

He turned on the light and I looked around the room. There were two windows, one on the end wall and the other on the back wall. Both had blinds and heavy drapes so I couldn’t see out, and so no one could see in.

The walls were beige, the ceiling was white, and the trim around the windows, doors, floor and ceiling was white. On the floor was a cream-colored carpet.

The bed looked to be a queen size with
a metal headboard and footboard that resembled a wrought iron fence. On the bed was a burgundy comforter with matching pillow shams and a lot of pillows. On each side of the bed was a nightstand. On each nightstand was a black lamp with a beige shade.

Across the room was a large armoire. On the wall opposite the bed was a dresser, over which hung a large mirror. Other than a few paintings hanging on the walls, that was it. It was a simple, beautiful room. The man was a sadistic psycho, but he was a hell of a decorator and housekeeper. As was the case in all the other rooms, there wasn’t a speck of dust or dirt to be seen.
That made the woman in the basement an even bigger mystery. She’d been filthy, so unlike everything else I’d seen so far.

Ron
led me into the room and over to the bed. He turned me to face him. With the bed touching the back of my legs and him standing only inches in front of me, I wanted to panic. I needed to panic. I felt it rising up in me. No good could come of this.

Still holding my shackled wrist in his
hand, he said, “You’re not going to like this, I’m sure. But it has to be done. Take off your shoes,” he ordered.

Without breaking eye contact, I put the toes of one foot on the heel of the other and pushed my shoe off my foot. I repeated the process for the other shoe while he watched.

“Now would you like to unfasten your jeans or would you like me to?”

“Why do they need to be unfastened at all?”

“You can’t sleep in your clothes.” He smiled.

“Yeah, I can. Let’s do that.”

“No, let’s not. Take them off. It’s not becoming for a woman to sleep in her clothes. Besides, wouldn’t you be more comfortable without the restrictions of your clothes? Without the tight fabric stretched taut across your delicate skin?” He ran his fingers down my side as he spoke, and I don’t think I just imagined the lusty tone in his voice.

“No, I think I’m good with leaving them on.”

“Take them off or I will take them off,” he barked.

It scared me, so against all my judgment, I unbuttoned my jeans. Not wanting to see the angry side of him, I unzipped them and pushed them down. Still holding my wrist, he bent over with me as I pulled the jeans off my feet. When I stood, I still had hopes that he wouldn’t order me to take
off anything else. I was wrong, and not for the first time that day.

“Take off your shirt.”

“I don’t see why—”

“Take it off,” he barked again. His voice, when raised to that level, was very painful on the ears.
The bass in his voice rattled my chest and my already frayed nerves.

I pulled my left arm out of the sleeve. He let go of my right wrist long enough for me to pull my arm through the sleeve, then he cupped it back in his big hand. I pulled the t-shirt over my head and held it in front of my chest.

He pulled the shirt away from me and laid it on the nightstand. “Now the bra.”

I thought about protesting, but if the third time really was the charm, then it would be a stupid thing to do. So I reached behind me with my left hand and popped the clasp on the bra.
I slid my arms out while he watched. He took the bra from me as soon as I was free of it, tossing it on the table with my shirt.

He leaned back and stared at my nearly naked body, which I tried to cover with the one free arm I had.

“You shouldn’t try to hide yourself. You have a wonderful body. You should be proud of it.”

“You were just saying that I shouldn’t be promiscuous.” I reminded him. I said it lightly and quietly, hoping that if said in the proper tone, it wouldn’t send him into a rage.

“That’s why I like you so much. You keep me on my toes,” he said and leaned into me.

I stood there, naked except for my socks and panties, and he gently kissed my neck. Had he been my boyfriend or husband, this would’ve been nice. But he was a madman who’d kidnapped me, and it was horrible.

Over and over, he kissed me softly on the neck, still holding my right wrist in his left hand. I wanted to cry, but was sure that if I did, he’d show his angry side. So I bit my lip and held it back. When I felt him cup my left breast, I nearly lost it. But somehow, I managed to keep it together.

After a few minutes of that, he pulled
away from me slowly and smiled.

“Time for bed.” He reached behind me and pulled back the comforter. I felt him tossing pillows out of the way.

I was frozen. All I could think about was how it would be to have his large body atop me, raping me. I was too scared to move.

“Come on,” he said. “Get into bed. I’ve got a lot of things to do.”

He pushed me backward until my knees gave and I fell onto the bed. Amazingly, he still held my wrist. He turned me around so that my head was on the pillows. Then, he got up on his knees beside me on the bed.

My heart raced. This was it.

He pulled my arms up over my head and clasped the handcuff behind a bar of the headboard and around my other wrist. I was shackled to the bed now.

With my arms held above my head by the cuffs, he didn’t have to hold onto my wrist. He sat up on his knees and drank me in with his eyes. When he leaned down toward me, I nearly screamed. As he kissed each of my breasts, I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended I was anywhere but here.

The movements of him getting off the bed made me open my eyes. I was afraid that I would find him standing beside the bed undressing. Instead, I found him walking to the end of the bed where he pulled off each of my socks. He then, pulled the comforter up on my body, covering my exposed breasts. I relaxed a little. I was sure that at some point, he was going to have me, but it didn’t look like it was going to be tonight.

“Sleep tight,
Nicole.”

He smiled and turned, flicking off the light before leaving the room. He left the door open, which I didn’t care for at all. I would’ve preferred it closed, so as to have some sort of warning if he sneaked into the room in the middle of the night.

Alone now, I saw no reason to keep holding back my tears and my panic, so I let loose. I cried silently so as to not alert him, but I cried hard and long. I was crying when I heard him walking down the steps to the basement, and an eternity later when I heard him coming back up the steps, I was still crying.

The tears weren’t just for me. They weren’t tears of self-pity. At least not all of them. They were tears for m
y husband, Wade, and for my son, Mason. Mason was only one year old. One year and one month. He wouldn’t even remember me if I never came back. Wade would have to teach him about me from photographs and stories. It made me sad to think that I might not be there for all of his firsts. His first day of school, losing his first tooth, his first girlfriend, it all made me sad.

And Wade. How long would he grieve for me? How long would he wait before he went on and found someone else? Would he pick someone like me? Would she love Mason as much as I did? Would she love and take care of Wade as much as I did?

I cried myself to sleep that night, and it was to be the first of many nights like it.

When I woke the next morning, I was startled by Ron’s presence. He stood at the side of the bed, hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks, staring at me with a smile on his face. It was creepy.

“Good morning,” he said. “I trust that you slept well.”

I tried to rub the sleep from my eyes, but of course I couldn’t. My hands were handcuffed, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, my arms were asleep.

“Here, let me help you.” He placed a knee on the bed and leaned over. He removed the handcuff
s from my wrists and brought my arms down. The pain was sharp and sudden and made me gasp. My shoulders were stiff and sore from being in that position all night. “Do you need a moment?” he asked.

With my arms at my sides, I nodded. Moments later, as the blood began to circulate through my arms and hands, the tingling started. It was painful, feeling as if millions of needles were being poked into my skin over and over.

I tried not to show that it hurt, but I winced and gasped more than once, giving me away.

“I’m sorry about that. I would like very much if I didn’t have to do that, but I’m afraid I can’t trust you. Maybe tonight we can figure out another way that will cause you less pain.”

I lay there waiting on the tingling to subside and hating the thought of spending another night, another day, even another second in this house with him. But I saw no way out.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said, holding my wrist. “Let’s get up and shower and get ready for the day.”

Slowly, I slid myself to the edge of the bed and stood. I brought my aching arm up and rubbed my eyes as I followed Ron down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the light and stepped aside, letting me enter.

“I’ll leave you alone, but I’m right outside this door. You should have everything you need. If not, let me know.” He smiled.

I went into the bathroom and shut the door. Instinctively, I reached for the lock, but there wasn’t one. At least there was a door between us, even if I couldn’t lock it. Looking around, I saw my clothes, folded neatly and stacked on the counter beside the sink. My bra was on top. I picked it up and brought it to my nose. Inhaling deeply, I smelled a laundry detergent that I didn’t use. He’d washed my clothes.

Beside the cloth
es were many personal hygiene items. A towel, a washcloth, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and a comb.

After
peeing, I slipped out of my panties and carried the towel and washcloth to the bathtub. There was no towel bar, so I draped the towel over the shower curtain rod. I stepped into the tub and pulled close the curtain. I looked to the shelf in the corner and saw a new bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. He’d thought of everything.

I washed thoroughly, making sure to wash twice wh
ere he’d touched and kissed me.

After the shower, I stood in front of the sink and put on my bra, then my t-shirt. I had been debating whether I wanted to wear my panties again, but when I saw a fresh pair of panties lying on my jeans, I knew I didn’t have to. I pulled them on, and then my jeans. Once dressed, I brushed my teeth and combed my hair.

When I opened the door, Ron was standing there, just as he’d said he would be. A madman of his word.

He smiled at me
, took my wrist in his hand, and snapped the cuff around it. I followed as he led me to the kitchen and once again hooked the handcuff to the underside of the table.

“I’m sure you
’re hungry,” he said. I watched as he pulled items from the refrigerator and carried them to the counter by the stove. “Do you like scrambled eggs?”

I thought of not answering, but decided I was too hungry to ignore the opportunity to eat. “Yes.”

With his back to me, he nodded. “Good. While I cook, I see no reason we can’t continue our conversation from last night, do you?”

I rolled my eyes, knowing that he couldn’t see me. “Sure,” I said, unenthusiastically.

“Very well. Did you attend college?”

“Yes.”

“In what field do you have a degree?”

“I don’t have a degree. I didn’t finish college.”

He glanced back at me over his shoulder. “You didn’t finish? Why?”