by Amy Cross
Suddenly I feel a heavy thud against my body, and I'm pushed forward until I lose my grip and go tumbling down the stairs headfirst. Eventually I land heavily at the bottom, but as I roll onto my back I realize that I seem to have escaped without any broken bones. Footsteps are slowly making their way down toward me, and I feel the pain throbbing once again in my leg. Finally, I let out another scream, this time a mixture of frustration and agony, and I start to sob again. I can't handle this. I thought I'd be able to fight back, to find a way to stop this guy, but now I realize that I'm not strong enough. There's no escape. I'll be trapped here for the rest of my life, just like Elizabeth and Natalie.
"Kill me," I whimper, as the guy reaches the bottom of the stairs and stands over me, his silhouette staring straight at my face. Suddenly I see him not only as the man who caused me to suffer such agony, but also as the man who can spare me. If he has any decency at all, maybe he'll show a little pity. The man who hurts me is also, by his very nature, the man who can spare me. "Please," I cry, my voice trembling as I sob, "just kill me now. Please."
Ben Lawler
Today
"Ben!"
Stopping at the steps, I turn back to see Principal Roberts hurrying across the parking lot. I guess I was expecting him to want a word with me, but I was hoping to at least get through the front door of the building first.
"How you doing?" he asks, smiling awkwardly. "I heard about everything that happened. You okay?"
"I'm fine," I reply. "Samantha, on the other hand, isn't in great shape."
"Yeah," he says, "I know. I just got off the phone with her parents about a half hour ago. I mean, my God, what that girl went through..."
"It looks like she'll be okay," I continue. "They've just put her in a coma for a few days while they get the initial treatment over with." Checking my watch, I see that I'm running late for my first class of the afternoon. "I'm sorry if I caused any problems this morning. Do you mind if we head through while we're talking?"
"Hold on," he says, reaching out and putting an arm on my shoulder. "Let's not get too hasty here. What happened to Samantha was shocking. People are talking about it all over town. They're saying she was freezing cold and cut, and naked, and -"
"That's how I found her," I reply, starting to feel as if there might be a problem here. "I guess you know she was found in the house on Willow Road, right?"
"Absolutely," he says. "Absolutely, yes, that part of the story is also doing the rounds, so to speak." He pauses, and I can tell that he's having trouble saying what he's really thinking. "People sure do love to gossip, don't they?" he adds with a nervous smile. "I mean, in a small town like this, people just love to... talk and talk about stuff."
"I don't blame them," I say. "I think they should be talking about it, especially when it seems like there's no other way to get things moving."
He nods. "Let me be clear on one thing, Ben. As far as I'm concerned, you're a hero. I don't know how you knew to find Samantha out there, but whatever, you saved her life. I have no doubt whatsoever that without your intervention, that poor girl would be dead right now. She'd be laid out on a mortuary slab, and..." He pauses. "Well, you get the idea. To me, you're an absolute hero." He smiles nervously. "If I had a medal, I'd pin it to your jacket right here and now."
"But?"
He opens his mouth to reply, but I can see he's not sure how to begin.
"Spit it out," I continue.
"I understand you were interviewed by the police this morning," he continues.
"I was. Interviewed, but not arrested. They wanted to know what happened."
"Of course. Totally. I understand." He pauses again. "See, Ben, some of the parents have been on the phone this morning, and they're a little uncomfortable about the whole thing. Well, they're very uncomfortable, and they don't like it. Not at all. And the thing is, although they all think you're a great teacher, they've been asking me whether I think it's a good idea to have you on the premises while there's an ongoing investigation."
I stare at him, barely able to believe what I'm hearing. "You think I'm dangerous?"
"No!" he replies. "God, no. Not at all. It's just a matter of procedure, Ben, and decorum, and... Well, some of the parents think that where there's even a sliver of doubt, we should act responsibly in order to minimize the possibility of any more..." He pauses again. "She was naked, Ben. You know how people react to that kind of thing. Also, some of the students say that you were seen talking to Samantha Briggs yesterday afternoon."
"I talk to a lot of my students," I say. "I'm a teacher."
"This was apparently more of an intense discussion," he continues. "I'm just telling you what I've heard, and what's being said around the school and among the parents. They're saying that you and Samantha were involved in quiet a long, heated discussion in one of the hallways. Is that true, Ben?"
Sighing, I look over at the door. Something tells me I'm not going to make it inside today.
"So a bunch of reactionary parents get all worked up," I say eventually, "based on a complete misunderstanding of the facts, and they -"
"She was naked, Ben," he continues, his voice suddenly seeming firmer. "She was hurt, she was close to death, and she was naked. It's hard for people here to look past that fact. Now, I'm not making any accusations here. No-one is accusing you of anything. At the same time, I have a duty to protect my students, and where there's even a sliver of a doubt, I have to act. There are parents here who are very uncomfortable with the idea of having you back at your job while the police investigation is ongoing."
"But if -"
"My decision is final," he says, stepping past me and seemingly trying to block my way to the door. "Ben, let's just deal with this like two rational people, and hopefully in a month or two it'll all have blown over. I'm sorry, but given the events of the past twenty-four hours with Samantha Briggs, I can't be seen to allow you back onto school property."
I pause for a moment, trying to work out what to do next. Finally, realizing that there's no point arguing with him, I just turn and walk away.
"We'll revisit the decision in a month!" he calls after me.
Not looking back, I make my way across the parking lot. There's no way I'm going to stand there and beg for my job, so I figure the best option is to just get away before I say something I'll regret. First the police, now the school; it's pretty clear that people in this town are convinced that something untoward happened last night when I found Samantha. Typically, they seem to be focusing on the obvious and easy answer, ignoring the fact that something seems to be luring people to the house. Whatever's going on, I need to speak to someone who understands the case and who'll be a little more sympathetic to my plight. First, though, I need to go and find out what the hell's going on; I need to go and speak to the man who's in charge of this whole mess.
Holly Carter
15 years ago
When I wake up, everything has changed. I can't see a thing, and in my confusion I start to wonder whether I've gone blind. Finally, however, I spot a faint shaft of light in the distance, and I realize that I'm simply in a dark room. I feel completely drained, as if all the energy has been sucked out of my body, and my leg is aching with a dull, persistent throb. I'm not as cold as I was earlier, though, and I find that I can move properly again. Slowly, and taking care not to rush, I sit up and find that there are a couple of blankets covering my body.
"Welcome back," Elizabeth says.
Turning, I realize that she's sitting nearby, barely visible in the gloom. I'm back down in the basement, and it's clear that Elizabeth and Natalie have taken time to care for me and get me warmed up again.
"I..." I start to say, suddenly struck by an overpowering need to see my mother again. "I need..." I glance around, hoping against hope that maybe, somehow, this is going to turn out to be a huge trick. "Mom?" I call out, although I immediately feel stupid. As tears start to roll down my cheeks, I try to stop myself from shivering.
"How do you feel?" Elizabeth asks, standing up and walking over to the sink. Moments later, she returns and passes me a glass of water. "How's your leg?"
"Sore," I say through the tears, feeling a searing flash of pain just above my ankle. I drink the water, and although it's cold, it tastes better than anything I've ever drunk before. Still, I can't stop shivering. I don't feel particularly cold anymore, but I think I'm in shock. I also have a strange pain in my left arm, like a kind of high pressure, dull ache.
"The staples look good," Elizabeth continues. "I took a look while you were still unconscious. He's done a good job this time, so we won't need to adjust them."
I nod, but the shivering seems to be getting worse.
"It's okay," she says, reaching out and taking my hand in hers. "It's going to be fine, Holly. You're safe now. You're back down here."
I nod again.
"Come on," she continues. "Just try to relax and forget about everything. Sometimes he leaves weeks between visits to the ice bath. You might not have to go back up there again for a long time."
"I'm never going back up," I say, my teeth chattering.
"We'll see," she replies.
"I'm not!" I say firmly.
"Okay," she says, even though I can tell she doesn't believe me. "Let's just focus on getting you calmed down."
"I don't want to calm down," I say, trying but failing to control the tremors. "I want to go home." As soon as I say the word 'home', a flood of tears starts to flow from my eyes and I break down into a sobbing mess.
"It's okay," Elizabeth says, putting an arm around me and holding me tight. "It's okay, Holly. Let it all out. Just let it out."
I want to tell her to fuck off. I want to push her away and tell her to stop being so calm and understanding. All I manage, though, is to sit and sob while she holds me. I don't know how long I stay like this, but it feels like forever. Eventually, I realize that the shivers have almost completely stopped. I look up and start wiping the tears from my cheeks.
"You miss your family, don't you?" Elizabeth says.
I nod.
"So do I. So does Natalie. Just focus on the thought that you'll see them again one day. This will all be in the past."
"When?" I ask, my voice sounding frail and weak.
"I don't know," she says. "But until we get out of here, at least we have each other."
I wipe some more tears away. Slowly, my fear is starting to become something else: anger. That bastard almost killed me, and he took a piece of bone from my body. He cut me open, reached inside and stole a part of me. First my freedom, my life, and now he wants my bones.
"I'm going to tell you something that might make you feel a little better," Elizabeth continues. "The first time is always the worst. It certainly was for me, it was for Natalie too, and I'm sure it will be for you too. The first time, there's so much uncertainty. You have no idea what's going to happen next, or how far he's going to go. It's the uncertainty, more than anything else, that causes such great panic. Once you know what's coming, it's not so bad."
Taking a deep breath, I reach down and run my fingers over the metal staples in my leg. The skin feels raised and raw, and slightly moist.
"Don't worry," Elizabeth says. "A small infection is almost inevitable, despite the ice. You'll be okay, though. We'll keep it clean and this time in a couple of weeks, you'll be up and about."
"He used a..." I start to say, thinking back to the glowing blue light on the end of the cattle-prod. "He used, like, a cattle-prod on me."
"He does that at first," she continues. "It's his way of making sure that you do what you're told."
"He uses it on you too?" I ask.
"Of course," she replies. "Well, he used to. These days, he just holds it and walks silently behind me as I make my way to the ice bath. He knows that I'd never try to escape, but I guess he figures he can't be too careful." She pauses for a moment. "I certainly learned very quickly that I never, ever wanted to feel such intense pain again. It's been ten years since my first night in this house, and after that first night I never again did anything to make him angry. Natalie's the same. We've both agreed that it's better to just give him what he wants."
Slowly, and with an aching body, I get to my feet and shuffle across the floor, still wrapped in the blankets that Elizabeth placed over my body. After a couple of steps, I realize I can't put any weight on my bad leg, so I have to lean against the wall. I can't stop thinking about that little piece of bone that he removed from me. Wherever it is now, and whatever he's done with it, it's still a part of me. I want it back.
"You shouldn't try to do too much," Elizabeth says. "You might feel better at the moment, but I can assure you that your body will be suffering for a few days to come. You've been through a terrible ordeal."
"What does he want with the bone?" I ask, turning to her. "He took a piece of bone from my leg. What the hell does he want with it?"
"We don't know," she replies. "He's taken some from me too, and from Natalie. He must have quite a collection by now, but we've never been able to work out what he's doing with them."
"He's a psychopath," I say, still shaken by the memory of my experience upstairs. "Doesn't he ever talk?"
"Never," she says.
"But I heard him once," I reply, turning to her. "When he kidnapped me, he spoke to me for a -" Suddenly I realize that something's wrong. The guy who kidnapped me did talk to me, but he seemed different somehow, almost as if it wasn't the same person. Thinking about it a little more, I realize that whereas the guy upstairs is fairly bulky, the guy who grabbed me the other day had a more wiry build. Suddenly I remember his head: the guy who grabbed me had a thin face, completely unlike the guy with the cattle-prod. "There are two of them," I say eventually.
"Two of who?" Elizabeth asks.
"The guy who snatched me," I continue. "It was someone else."
"Nonsense," she replies. "He works alone."
"No," I say, "you're wrong. The guy who snatched me was different. He talked, and he was thinner, and..." I pause again, as I think back to the other figure I saw upstairs. "This guy, he doesn't live alone. I saw a glimpse of someone else tonight. There's definitely someone else up there. I swear to God, I'm not making it up."
"Impossible," Elizabeth says, walking back over to the sink. "You're delirious."
"No," I continue, hurrying over to her. "I swear to God, when I was in the bath I saw -"
"When you were in the bath?" she asks, interrupting me. "How can you possibly put any credence in some half-glimpsed image snatched at the height of your pain?"
"Someone walked past the door," I insist. "A second person."
"There's no-one else up there," she replies. "Believe me, I've been here for a decade. If there were two of them, I'd know."
"I've seen the other one," I continue. "I've seen him twice. First, when he grabbed me, and then again tonight. I don't know why you've never seen him, but I swear he's real. This isn't just one guy working alone. There are two of them. The thin one goes and gets the girls, and the bigger one does the stuff in the bath."
"Please," Elizabeth replies, lowering her voice a little, "will you stop with this nonsense? You'll upset Natalie."
Looking across the room, I see that Natalie is curled up in the corner.
"Is she -"
"Sleeping?" Elizabeth replies. "Yes. Or trying to, at least. The point is, there's no need for you to go spreading your disruptive lies down here. I've been here for a decade and Natalie's been here for five years, and we know full well that there's only one man up there. If there was another, don't you think we'd have seen him, or heard him, or had some indication of his presence?"
"I know what I saw," I tell her, refusing to let her dismiss my fears. "I'm not an idiot, okay? I saw another man up there. I only saw him for a second, and I didn't get a look at his face, but I swear to God I saw him. And the guy who kidnapped me, it was someone else. I can't explain it, but I know there's a second man up there!"
Over in the corner, Natalie stirs for a moment. Elizabeth and I watch as she rolls onto her other side, but she seems to be fast asleep. Either that, or she's pretending.
"I know what I saw," I say firmly.
"You should sleep," Elizabeth says quietly. "I'm sorry, Holly, but there's really nothing we can do. You'll only exhaust yourself if you keep tugging at the bars like that. Perhaps if you go to bed for a few hours, you'll feel a little better in the morning."
"And when I wake up, will I be out of here?" I ask, turning to her. "Will I be free again? Will I get to go home?"
"No, but -"
"Then I won't feel better, will I?" I point out bitterly. I stare at her for a moment, and suddenly I find myself wondering why she's so keen for us to accept our fate. It's almost as if she wants us to stay down here. In fact, I can't help thinking that in some way she seems to be more than happy to just waste away her days, trundling around the basement and relying on some vague hope that one day there'll be a miracle that might help us get out.
"I don't think there's much point in us continuing this discussion tonight," she says frostily. "I'm tired, and I'd rather like to get some sleep. Perhaps things will seem different in the morning. Time is a great healer, Holly, and sometimes a good night's sleep is all we need in order to get a fresh perspective. I hope you'll realize that you can't remain angry all day every day while you're down here. It's simply impossible. Good night, Holly." With that, she turns and makes her way to the other end of the basement.
"Good night," I say quietly, before looking back up at the window. There has to be a way out of here. I can't go through another day like today. I swear, my heart can't handle another ice bath, and my leg is hurting more and more. I don't care how well-prepared the guy upstairs might be, everyone has a weakness and I'm going to find his, and then I'm going to get us out of here.
