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 wrists, 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.