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.
He closes the door and that’s enough to make her shudder. Every small noise and every subtle movement feel like an earthquake to Lucy’s crumbling mind. She doesn’t know how she will do this, doesn’t know if she really can. She imagines him coming closer as she uses everything she has, desperately trying to play dead, to not move, to make sure he suspects nothing. Surprise is all she has got and it can only help her the once.
She waits for that first touch. It will be a test for the both of them – can she really pretend to still be asleep, and can she make no move and no sound, even though she wants to explode with a mixture of pure fear and absolute rage?
She knew it was coming but his one simple stroke still takes her by surprise, distracting her whilst she plots and schemes. Her foot instantly moves, an involuntary twitch that she didn’t see coming and could never have stopped. It was such a simple test; such a clever way to check if his prisoner was actually awake.
She immediately feels his tight grip around one of her ankles as she imagines him looking through those infra-red goggles, inspecting every part of her body. She knows it’s over, that she has lost the only thing that could have helped her win – the element of surprise. She doesn’t feel any more touching; she knows he’s not on the table and that’s where she needs him to be. Close, but not too close. He’s too in control of the situation, too balanced – both of his feet are still firmly on the floor.
Lucy doesn’t know what to do and cannot believe that her one chance has come to an end. She waits for his questions, his shouting and his swift punishment. And as she waits and wonders, that is when the thought comes to her, as she gently moves her head and lets out a short groan. Her only hope is that he will think she is rousing from a peaceful slumber and that it will be enough to appease him, enough to entice him to do what he always does, what he plans to do to her every night until fate, or some luck on Lucy’s part, forces them apart.
He doesn’t appear to move, his stillness giving nothing away as she tries to remain calm. She lies still, as if in her dream state she is far away from him. The agonising seconds tick by. She waits for his hands to grasp her throat, a punch to her ribs, or worse – a needle entering her veins and returning her to the state she should have been in. She is just moments away from sheer panic and doesn’t know how to stop it.
‘The medication grows on you, dearest,’ he says, as she feels him climb onto the table. ‘We will have to increase your dose from tomorrow.’ She feels his sudden warmth against her face, his moist tongue running up her cheek, his rancid breath penetrating her nostrils. ‘We can’t have you joining the party before it gets properly started.’
She says nothing, her eyes firmly closed as she lets out another short moan. It’s all she can do to breathe in and out properly, enabling fresh air travel into her lungs. He moves away from her face, his full weight resting on her stomach as she struggles to hold her breath. This is what happens when she sleeps; her limp body and absent mind somehow cope with it, but when she is awake she has the experience of this overwhelming pain without any of the anaesthetising effects she desperately needs. She moans again, which is the only way she can get control of her body, as she wonders if he has spotted something very different to every other night in this week of hell.
He moves further down her body, his pelvis lined up with hers. Lucy knows what is coming next but she still feels relieved when his crushing weight is removed from her chest. It is clear that he suspects nothing, remaining focused on what he wants. She feels the rough fabric of his clothes against her soft skin as his body grinds against hers.
She wants to scream; she’s desperate to push him off, but instead, she just talks to the hero inside her. Be calm and be ready, that brave voice inside her says. It won’t be long now, although she really can’t be sure how long all of this will take.
Her patience starts to pay off: she senses him taking off his clothes, layer by layer, scraping his hairy stomach against her at every opportunity he gets. The moment must be coming but she can’t feel it, wants to feel it, wants all of this to be over.