I took a few deep breaths and opened the door, walking a few steps out of the room. I had to pull myself together and start to think straight. There had to be a way out of this. I couldn’t allow myself to think about all the other women who hadn’t escaped, I needed to be the one that did. In the shabby hallway he was pulling on a heavy winter coat and gloves that hung on nails which had been slammed at odd angles into the wall. He was going out? This could be my chance. Something told me he wouldn’t be stupid enough to just leave me loose in the house, but I had to hope. Hope was all I had and I knew if I stopped hoping it would be over. Cam had always told me I was the strong one and I would be exactly that now. I would get back to him.
*****
I sit at this bar feigning outrage that my lady is missing and none of them have a clue that she is safely with me. Where she belongs. A man can never find what is under his nose; my Mother’s words were never truer than in this moment. The townsfolk are gathered, huddled together in their time of need, supporting each other in between searches for their lost princess. She has been with me for two days now. She slept peacefully for the first twenty four hours. Observing as they suffer is almost as satisfying as watching my sweet lady sleep. They all look up as her brother enters the bar.
“Cameron,” I address him. “Any news?” He looks distraught and I silently congratulate myself on my ability to make him feel pain. Yet more penance for the crimes of his parents. It is only proper that the entire family pay the price, how else will they learn from their parent’s mistakes?
“Nothing new.” He tells me as he rubs a hand down his stubbled face and moves towards the band of misfits awaiting him.
“Re-fill?” the bar tender asks from behind the bar. He is a nameless face to me, despite his being here as long as I have been coming here to drink. My lady is familiar with him of course, but he matters not to me.
“One more.” I push my glass towards him and continue to watch with interest as my lessons are sinking in. I realise with a secret, satisfied smile to myself that this time my lessons are affecting the entire town. I have taken their sweetheart. She is the ray of sunlight in this dull little town and now she is no longer theirs. Everything has finally come together, I couldn’t have planned it more perfectly. I no longer have to pretend to like the people she calls friends in order to stay close to her; she is solely mine at last.
*****
I was alone. He put me in the bedroom, not tied or chained. Just as I thought he must be a bumbling fool, he had produced a key and locked the door behind him, did he really think I wouldn’t try and escape? I waited until I heard him leave, the front door clicking as he locked it and gave him a few minutes to ensure he wasn’t coming back before I started hammering on the window and yelling for help. I had no idea if I could be heard, yet I screamed until my voice was gravelly and my throat sore, because I had to try. I didn’t know how long he would be gone so I needed to be fast and loud.
After what seemed like hours I was all screamed out. My throat felt as though I had reached a hand down it and yanked out my vocal chords. My knuckles were scratched and bruised from thumping the window and door and walls. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked around the room for something, anything, to break the glass with. Picking up the stool from underneath the dressing table I flung it with every ounce of strength I had left at the window. It fell to the floor having had no effect.
“That was fucking pathetic Callie!” I scolded myself. Swallowing the sob that threatened I picked it up and moved closer to the window. I swung the stool. This time not letting go and making sure the wooden legs hit the glass. The window cracked, not much, but it was a start. I hit it over and over again until finally the glass gave and fell out of the frame in sharp slivers. Not thinking about the jagged edges still embedded in the frame, I leaned out through the window as far as I could and screamed as loudly as my broken voice would allow. Then the sweet smell invaded my senses again and my world went black.
Pain. Sharp, intense pain in my arm had me screaming awake. He was there. Sitting on the edge of the bed and I was back in the cellar. The bed had been moved to the other side of the room, and the rust encrusted chains were now tightly fastened and digging in to the skin around my wrists. His icy eyes peeking out through the balaclava told me he was smiling at me, as though he hadn’t just dragged the tip of a knife down the length of my arm.
The blade burned another trail along my shoulder and down my arm to my wrist. He wasn’t cutting deeply enough to cause any real damage, barely enough draw blood. But it hurt. It really hurt. He lifted the knife and pressed it against my cheek, just below my eye. The tip pressed harder into my cheek and I felt blood drip down my face. He dug the knife into my cheek once more before covering my mouth with that stinking rag. Sweet oblivion.
*****
The black, serrated, hunting knife was against my other cheek this time when I woke. My body was frozen in fear as he drew the point down my cheek and across my chin. Then he left. It was as though he were just there to wake me for the day ahead.
For a moment I didn’t move, instead I lay on the bed, shaking. My wrists were still bound in the shackles that were hooked into the wall on which my back rested. When I rose, slowly, the cuts on my arms re-opened with the movement. Those other women, he had done this to them. Cam had given me what little information he could and I knew what they had gone through was worse than this. Sudden grief for them overwhelmed me and I doubled over, sobbing for the women he had killed, strangers with whom I would eternally share a connection.
The door opened and he entered carrying a black, floor length dress on a hanger. He laid it carefully on the camp bed and then came towards me with a key in hand. He slowly unlocked the metal cuff from my wrist and rubbed the skin where the rough edges had cut into it and drawn blood, as though he cared that it had hurt me. He pointed to the dress and then to the door at the top of the stairs, indicating that he wanted me to put it on and go upstairs, then he turned and left again. Swallowing my tears and taking a deep breath I turned my attention to the sequined evening gown he had left out for me to wear. I felt sick. All fight left me and I knew I had to go along with him. I could not face that knife again.
When I was dressed I slowly made my way up the stairs and entered the room, my heart yet again pounding in my chest. He had left no shoes and so I was barefoot. He was wearing a black dinner suit with a white shirt and black tie and the balaclava. Reaching out to grab my arm, he yanked me roughly down the hallway and into the bedroom where he stopped in front of the mirror. He stood behind me and lifted my chin, gripping it tightly with one hand, forcing me to look at my reflection. All trace of the tenderness he had shown before had evaporated. His grip tightened more on my chin and he jabbed a finger at our mirror images.
My cheeks were covered in tiny cuts and one long one ran, from underneath my left eye all the way down to my chin. Dried blood covered my face looking like trails of red tears falling down my cheeks. Long, angry red lines streaked down both arms. My hair was matted and there was dry blood in it that had run from the cuts on my face. I looked horrific and felt even worse. He ran his fingers along the marks he had left on my skin with the knife and I tried to turn my head away but his grip on my chin did not relent, silently demanding that I continue to look at our reflections in the mirror. When he got to the marks on my face he leant forward, rested his covered nose against my neck and inhaled deeply, his intimate touch causing my stomach to roll. Then silently, always silently, he led me from the bedroom, down the hall to a dining room with a long mahogany table and sat me down at one end. The table was set for two with silver cutlery and cloth napkins wrapped in ornate gold napkin rings. How very civilised I thought, not daring to voice my sarcasm.
*****
My lady deserves the best and I will ensure she has it. I know she looks stunning as I lead her to the dining table and seat her at one end. This evening I will treat her as the lady of the house should be treated. I am aware
that it is a premature action on my part; she should not occupy that seat until her lessons are complete, she must earn her place, but tonight I wish to indulge myself. I have waited so long for her to join me and I want her to have an idea of the life we may live together.
The closing wounds and dry blood on her skin serve as a reminder that she must obey me, the sight of it excites me. One day, when her lessons are learned and she no longer has to carry them with her, I will take her out in public and I will be the envy of every man around us. She will choose me. Of that there is no doubt. I lift the domed, silver lid on the platter in front of her, before pouring her a glass of the finest wine and taking my own seat at the head of the table. I gesture to her plate and she lifts her cutlery, slowly, painfully. Her lessons may cause her discomfort now, but she will soon be pain free.
*****
I hammered on the tiny cellar window. He’d left me again, thrown me roughly on the floor of the cellar when I refused to eat and covered my face with that damn rag. The effects of what I thought must be chloroform had worn off and I was finally able to move around. It must have been hours since he had left me there and judging by the little reaction to the noise I was making there was nobody nearby. I wanted nothing more than to lie down and slip into oblivion, making it all go away for a while, but I couldn’t give up. I did not give up on things. I fought the way my parents had always taught me. I pummelled again with my fist, I had to break this window, it was my only hope. I punched at the thin glass relentlessly with my fist until finally it cracked. Gasping in shock, I continued hitting it, desperation and hope washing over me simultaneously. I knew my hands were ripped to shreds; blood covered them and crawled down my arms. But I had to keep going. And I did keep going, until at last I had enough space to crawl through.
Jagged edges of the window pane clawed at the dress that I was still wearing, catching and tearing it as I shoved my way through. The glass ripped further into my arms and legs as I crawled, barefoot, out onto snow covered ground and looked around, attempting to get my bearings. Coming to my knees I took in the sight of an old, seemingly derelict house behind me, my prison cell was nothing more than a shell from the outside. The kind of place that hadn’t seen life in generations, but had once housed a rich family. The kind of place that nobody noticed anymore, I doubted anyone even knew it was there. I was surrounded completely by tall trees, their bare branches heavily laden with snow. That’s when I knew this was not an area of the forest I recognised, I was in the middle of nowhere.
“Shit!” I cursed to myself as I began to move as quickly as my shaky legs would carry me, away from the house, my bare feet not registering the cold. I knew I would leave a trail, but I couldn’t muster the energy to cover it as I went and hopefully the still falling snow would disguise my tracks soon enough. My energy was at a low but I wouldn’t give up. I had gotten out of there all I had to do was keep moving.
What felt like a lifetime passed, the snow was getting heavier and darkness was falling when I thought I heard the sound of male voices. I was freezing, broken, dehydrated and quite possibly hallucinating. A flash of light through the trees had me hunkering down behind the nearest bush, what if it was him? I whimpered as my body collapsed from fear and exhaustion. I would just lie here and let the snow cover me, he wouldn’t see me then. I would probably die from hypothermia, but that had to be better than what he had planned for me. If I was going to die, I would do it on my own terms. Loud, muffled voices. Footsteps in all directions.
“Sshhhh.” I wanted to tell them, “Too loud, my head hurts.” But I don’t know if I managed the words.
Light. Blinding. “Turn it off.” I think I whispered hoarsely. More shouting. Was that my name? Footsteps rapidly drawing near. Don’t let it be him. Please don’t let it be him. A sharp intake of breath and then gentle hands under my shoulders and knees. I flinched. The pain made me dizzy.
“No more.” I croaked, “Please, no more.”
“Shhhh, CeeCee, don’t talk. I’ve got you. It’s over baby.” A kiss on my forehead. I knew that voice. I loved that voice.
“Callie?” Another familiar voice called, panic stricken.
“It’s her Cam.” The voice was deep, comforting, it was home. I inhaled deeply, my body shook with the effort. A familiar male scent filled my nostrils and I knew I was safe. But the darkness had still found me.
*****
Chapter Two
I fumed as I stormed through the snow and along the dark street of the small town I lived in. I ran as fast as I could, away from the one person I thought would love me forever. I didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop to acknowledge the distant calls chasing me down the old cobbled road. I was angry, confused and hurt.
I wasn’t dressed for charging through ankle deep snow at midnight, but that hadn’t occurred to me. Would it occur to any woman who had just walked into her boyfriend’s flat after a long, busy Friday night shift tending bar to be greeted by him drunk as a skunk and spouting abuse at her? Telling her it was time to give up her job and be at home for him at the end of the working day. He was tired of coming home to an empty house. He was sick of seeing her behind that bar, other men drooling over and flirting with his woman, thinking they might stand a chance. How he didn’t want her smiling for anyone but him, or coming home smelling of beer and other men’s aftershave. That she had to stop with the independence crap and settle down with him once and for all, he had waited long enough. She didn’t need to go to work, that was for him to do, he would take care of her and she would take care of him the way a woman should, that’s how it was going to work from now on.
I’d screamed at him that he had become an over bearing, possessive moron and that I couldn’t live like that and then I had turned and stormed into the night in a fit of rage. Not stopping to hear him call out my name or his excuses as I ran, on auto pilot, not thinking about the direction I was going. If he really wanted to find me he’d know where to look. Or would he? I had to admit, after six years I’d recently begun to wonder if Jase had any clue about me at all. Things hadn’t been right with us for a while, I knew that and I had been thinking of breaking up with him. But he had always been part of me and I couldn’t bring myself to let go, desperately clinging to the idea that one day MY Jase would come back to me. Not this jealous, control freak that had to know my every move and barely let me out of his sight. I don’t know when or why he had become that way. I just knew he’d changed and I couldn’t carry on like that.
I huffed to myself and began to rummage through my pockets for my gloves, damn it was cold. No gloves. Of course, I always forget my gloves. It was a running joke among my friends. They all bought me gloves for any occasion that came up. Christmas, birthday, Sundays! My brother religiously carried spares and a couple of my friends were forever giving me theirs to wear. Because “Callie always forgets her gloves.”
It wasn’t until I registered how cold my hands were that I noticed the snow had gotten considerably heavier and I could no longer see the ground in front of me. I looked up, turning, I realised with a sigh of reIief that I was outside Greg and Dana’s front door. I lived on the other side of town and common sense- plus my over protective brother’s lectures- told me I ought to get inside. The snowfall was rapidly becoming more blizzard like and before long I wouldn’t be able to see my hand in front of my face. Greg and Dana were two of my oldest friends and I knew they would be more than happy to let me in at this time of night to crash on their sofa. Ha, Dana would probably turn into some girly sleepover from hell, especially when I told her about my fight with Jase, but I could deal with that for one night. I lifted my hand to knock on the door and everything went dark.
I woke with the remnants of a scream on my lips and sat bolt upright in bed, looking around the room frantically and grabbing at my wrists, checking for chains.
“Hey, it’s alright Cal. You’re at home. You’re safe. It was just a dream.” My brother crooned in my ear as he held me and rocked me gently in his strong arms.
The nightmares had begun exactly one week after my escape. Cam or Jase were always there to wake me from them and hold me afterwards, whispering soothing words to me and telling me I was safe until I calmed down. But the fact was I wasn’t safe. No woman was safe. Because he hadn’t been caught. I had escaped, but there was nothing in that house to identify him and he hadn’t been back there, the police had been watching it, but they’d learned nothing about him from the old house. They couldn’t even find any records of who owned the place. It was just a derelict house, left to ruin and he had disappeared without a trace. No more women had been taken. No more women had been killed. And perhaps that should have soothed me in a way, but it didn’t, nothing did. Because no matter that the killings had stopped he was still out there somewhere and I knew in my gut that one day he would come back for me.
In the weeks and months since my abduction I had done everything I could to make sure my brother and my friends didn’t suffer because of my darkness. I talked to them about it when they asked, but never gave them everything. I dutifully talked to the counsellors, but I never felt as though it helped. I allowed them all to think I was getting better. When I look back now I’m not sure I ever really fooled them, but we played the game and for a while I felt like I was winning. They did what they could to keep things normal for me; they went out of their way to make life fun and happy. To distract me from the fact that he was still out there somewhere. Maybe they were distracting themselves too, I’m sure it played on their minds as well. When it all got a little bit too much my best friend Nick would rescue me and we’d disappear for a while on his motorbike. Or Cam would insist on a Gotham marathon and we’d eat takeaway and drink beer and laugh. Or Mick would get out a bottle of the good stuff after hours in the bar and he and I would sit alone in front of the fireplace and put the world to rights until the sun came up. The girls, Liv, Dana and Amy would organise a girl’s night out and we’d dance all night. Each of them had their own way of being there for me and I loved them all like crazy for it.
Educating Callie Page 2
