When I Know Your Name

by Gemma M. Lawrence

  The sound of a key clunking in the lock jolted Elena out of her restless sleep and back to her grim reality. Instinctively, she sat upright and pushed herself against the wall for support, dizziness and nausea her friends once more.

  The smoker, who could only be known as Cigarettes now – a caricature, she knew, but still terrifying nonetheless – stood in the open door.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said with a sneer as he used the weight of his body to shut the door behind him. ‘Our sleeping beauty is awake.’

  Heart hammering, she pushed herself harder against the wall, wanting to dissolve into it, to become invisible. His heavy boots thumped against the dry floorboards as he strode towards her. He crouched down, taking a long drag from his half-smoked cigarette and made a strange whistling sound as he sucked the fumes through his teeth and down into his lungs. When he had held it there long enough, he blew it out into her face in one hazy, toxic cloud. It burned her throat, making her cough and gasp for air, which seemed to amuse him. Laughing, he did it again.

  He rested his elbows on his legs and in the dim light, she stared at the thick black tattoos that snaked out from beneath his t-shirt and down his arms, rather than look him in the eye. He stared too, watching as if she was a prized animal, his face only inches from hers.

  ‘Now, my little princess. What are we going to do with you?’ he said with a smile that made her want to scream.

  He took hold of her bound hands, gripping hard, and turned them within his own. He looked with fascination, his fingers digging into her clammy skin.

  ‘Such delicate hands,’ he said as he brought them closer to his face. ‘It would be such a shame if you were to lose one of those pretty fingers. Or even two. It would make them ugly. Deformed.’ His gaze roamed from her hands to her eyes. ‘You wouldn’t like that, would you?’

  ‘No,’ she said as she struggled to free herself from his grasp.

  ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ he replied with a sigh. ‘It would be very painful too. Here in this room, with no way of numbing the flesh before I made the cut. There would be a lot of blood. Your blood. You’d scream, beg me to stop.’

  ‘I just… I just want you to leave me alone,’ she stammered, her voice faltering as the mental image of what he proposed burned into her mind.

  ‘Oh, is that right,’ he goaded with an amused expression. ‘I see. The lady wants me to leave her alone.’

  He dropped her hands as if they disgusted him and wiped his own on his trouser leg.

  ‘Well, I can’t do that,’ he said as he reached into his pocket, his eyes on hers as he pulled out something thin and metallic which glinted in the low light.

  The sight of the blade made her dart sideways away from him, but he was quicker and reached out for her, pulling her back.

  ‘Oh God, no!’ she shrieked as she hugged her hands tightly against her body.

  He snatched them in his and slipped the blade between her palms as she let out a piercing scream.

  He held her firm and wiggled the knife which cut through the tie, snapping it apart, freeing her hands as the plastic fell to the floor. Laughing, he tucked the knife back into his pocket with a glint in his eye that gave away how much he enjoyed this little game.

  Hands free and through anguished sobs, she lunged away from her tormentor, desperate for some distance. But as she shuffled along the floor, she caught the humour in his face flash to anger. He reached out again. Now, he wrapped his hand around her neck, covering her throat. She froze, her attempt at freedom thwarted. Eye to eye, she stared straight into his cold soul.

  ‘Did I say you could move?’ he hissed.

  With ragged breaths, she brought her hands to his, grasping them, trying to ease the pressure.

  He laughed and released his hold, happy he’d made his point. With one last act of violence, he struck her forehead with the heel of his hand, cracking her head into the wall behind.

  She cried out as fresh pain reverberated through her skull and down the core of her body, connecting with the throb in her leg.

  ‘Later, bitch,’ he muttered as he walked to the door, slamming it shut and locking it.

  She let out shallow gasps as his footsteps faded away. She was alone again and had never been so grateful.

  Fresh glinting pain glowed in her head as she reached up and gently touched the egg-shaped lump that had formed. She didn’t stop the sobs that escaped, not that she could have if she tried. She wanted to get out of this. She wanted to go home. She wanted to survive.

  After a brief respite, the sound of the door opening again made Elena jump to her feet. Cigarettes strode in again, a large bottle of water in his hand.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she stammered, keeping herself steady as her mouth salivated at the sight of the water.

  He didn’t speak but walked towards her, unscrewing the lid from the bottle.

  She reached for it without thinking, wanting to get the cool liquid into her body, but he swiped her hand away and instead held the bottle to her lips. She let him do it. However she was going to get it, she needed that water and drank greedily, using her mouth to tip the bottle lower for a better flow. He resisted and only allowed a few gulps before he removed the bottle and replaced the cap. ‘That’s all you’re getting.’

  It wasn’t enough. Not even close, but she said nothing and just watched as he tucked the bottle under his arm.

  ‘Move,’ he ordered as he pulled at her arm.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We need you to stay alive at this point and even though I don’t give a fuck if you sit in your own crap, you need to come with me.’

  Walking her across the room and through the door, he pushed her to the right, alongside the staircase, its balustrades kicked out, by vandals perhaps. Dirty, peeling paintwork covered the walls and uneven floorboards creaked beneath their feet. They stopped directly outside the door at the end of the corridor, its top hinge missing, making it hang precariously on its side.

  He released his grasp on her. ‘Go on. Off you go. Do what you need to do,’ he said as he lit a cigarette.

  She did as she was told, happy to be free, and pushed the door carefully. Inside, and with the door pushed shut as much as the broken hinge would allow, she discovered the remnants of a bathroom. It was a shell, with large gaps where the bath and sink should be; exposed pipework the only indication of their presence, long ago. She looked up at the rafters that let small shards of light beam down through cracks in the roof. What was left of the ceiling littered the rotten floor from years of water damage and she couldn’t be sure that it would take her weight. Huge black graffiti was scrawled across the walls, the only evidence of past visitors to this desolate place.

  In the far corner of the room was an avocado-coloured toilet pan, with no seat and a large crack running through the centre of it. More wood covered the window above it. Tentatively, she moved towards it and pulled hard at the slats, but it was no use, they were fixed firm. No escape from here either. She glanced around. She was expected to use this room but found that, mercifully, she was far too dehydrated to pee. So she stood for a while longer, wanting to delay, but once she had prolonged the moment for as long as possible, she opened the door.

  The man shoved her – a harsh, unspoken instruction to move forwards. He walked close behind and as she neared her room and the top of the stairs, he grabbed her neck, a helpful reminder not to make any attempt at freedom.

  In her room, he released his hold and pushed her away, making her stumble for balance. The movement pulled on her wound and she felt it throb. She hoped this would be the moment he would leave her, but he stalked towards her, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth as if the sight of her whetted an appetite in him.

  She backed away, sensing that this visit was, in fact, far from over. ‘Leave me alone,’ she snapped as she glanced at the open door.

  ‘Maybe you want to be nice to me,’ he said as he moved closer. ‘I can get you more water, if you pay me a little at
tention.’ Close enough to touch now, he slowly backed her up against the wall.

  ‘I want you to go away.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll go,’ he assured. ‘Once you’re nice to me.’

  She stared at him as he leant in close, too close. This was another subject in the lesson of abduction only she and her mother had been educated on: that sex was maybe an option to consider, if necessary. A bargaining tool, to help placate the abductor, to get him on side and maybe prolong or save your life. Still, the idea of it abhorred her, here, in this dank room, with this disgusting man.

  She edged away enough to slap him hard across his face. ‘You get away from me.’

  He raised his hand to his cheek and glared at her. ‘Now, that is not nice,’ he growled as he took a step back as if to turn away from her.

  He moved so quickly that she only registered the impact of the back of his hand against her cheek by the pain that seared into her skin and bone rather than from sight alone. She cried out as she lurched sideways.

  Steadying herself, she turned and faced him, her hand to her cheek. ‘My father will kill you when he finds you,’ she spat as she tasted the coppery twang of blood in her mouth.

  He moved closer, fury blazing in his eyes. ‘He’s got to fucking find me first, little bitch. And you.’

  ‘Oh, he will!’ she snapped. ‘And he won’t stop until he’s crushed you. Like the insignificant weasel you are.’

  She watched him raise his hand again and bring it down hard against her face, collapsing her body to the floor as a dark void of unconsciousness enveloped her.

  Chapter 4

  Endless days passed. Each one the same routine of torment. Cigarettes would come to her room, offer her the tiniest drop of water and sometimes a little bread, and then he would taunt her, telling her she’d get more if she was prepared to be nice to him. She would take the water and snippet of food and refuse anything else, but there was no more violence.

  He would never force himself on her, never disregard her refusal and brutally take what he wanted anyway. He could, of course. They both knew she would be unable to stop him from doing whatever he wanted, in whatever way that pleased him, but something seemed to stop him. Although she could see the desire to do her harm in his expression – she only had to look at the way his eyes scanned her body – there was always restraint. It made her suspicious as to what lay ahead for her, what orders he was being given. But whatever might befall her, she held on to the fact that she was unharmed for now, and she was grateful for it.

  Her face was still tender from his back-handed slap, but it was healing. She massaged it gently, hoping to get some fresh blood flowing to it, focusing on anything other than her constant state of hunger and the dull ache in her leg. She fantasised about favourite drinks or food just so she could salivate and lubricate her dry mouth, but, in time, even that failed. But there was a glimmer of hope. She remembered that the last time she’d worn her hoodie she’d tucked a packet of gum in the pocket, so she reached in, hoping it hadn’t tumbled out when her phone was snatched from her. She felt the foil paper crinkle in her fingers and breathed out with relief. She pulled it out. The packet was full, only one tab missing. Heaven. She rubbed the cuff of her sleeve over her teeth and carefully bit a tab in half, rationing them, and tucked the packet away. She chewed, and was so hungry that she knew its final destination, but she didn’t care.

  She scratched a line into the dusty plasterwork to mark a new day. She was keeping track, making a timeline of misery. Fourteen lines were stacked in a row already, and these were her conscious days. She had no way of knowing how many days she had spent in an abyss of darkness. But she wouldn’t let herself dwell on that. She had to focus, stay strong.

  The sun was bright and high in the sky. Iridescent specks of dust sparkled and danced within the shafts of light and she found it soothing to watch. She thought of her family, her friends, Adam. Her old life. She’d been missing long enough now. Surely they must know that this was a ransom demand? Surely now they must realise that someone had been watching, had been waiting, ready to place her in this hell. And now all she could do was to keep the faith that someone out there in the normal world would be close to finding her.

  Watching the sunlight – and with a mixture of fear, boredom and hunger – she stood and went to the window. Unable to fight the desire to be free, she tugged and pulled at the wood, hoping to dislodge it in some way. She jabbed her fingernails under the screws and twisted, but it achieved nothing, only to snap and tear her nails. The screws were held firm, tight and unmoveable. It should have broken her, but it didn’t. She glared at them and inhaled deeply, feeling the fire ignite within her. That’s when she knew she would continue to fight. She may be hidden, captured, but she still had strength. She wouldn’t let them win. She also wouldn’t discount another escape. Cigarettes just needed to be careless. One open door would be all it would take. She just had to bide her time, and she had plenty of that. She had an endless amount of time.

  ***

  The quiet in her room was broken by the approach of a car, followed by the sounds of activity downstairs. More voices. Her heart pumped wildly and she felt her pulse throb in the wound on her leg. She braced herself as she listened to footsteps climb the stairs and sat up straight, ready, as the key turned.

  ‘Hello, Elena.’

  Noticing his eyes first and then his mouth, she instantly recognised the man she’d seen in the coffee shop.

  ‘You!’ she cried as she jumped to her feet, an action that left her unsteady.

  The reason for their encounter became startlingly clear, and the knowledge was devastating. It was no coincidence. He had orchestrated their little meet-and-greet that day, a little escapade for his pleasure, no doubt, before the hell he would inflict. Humiliation radiated through her. He’d been so calm, so self-assured, and she had allowed thoughts of him to slip into her mind for the rest of that day. He’d been a funny story shared with Charlotte that evening too, and all for what? Being here now, his captive.

  He used her name. What else did he know about her? Everything, probably. He’d need this information. Things to use as he saw fit.

  Standing in the centre of the room, an air of power surrounded him – something she had noticed in the coffee shop that day and now here. His eyes bore into her, demanding her complete attention, and in the circumstances, she gave it.

  He moved closer. ‘You made an attempt to escape, I hear,’ he said as he stood opposite her with folded arms. He was taller than her and it required her to look up if she was to maintain the eye contact he was demanding. ‘Please don’t try that again. I don’t want to sedate you.’

  She didn’t believe him but nodded anyway, letting him know that she understood.

  Cigarettes strode into the room, his smile as cold as the frigid air.

  She stepped back as panic pooled in her empty stomach. Cigarettes walked to the chair, picked it up and slammed it down next to her. The stench of stale nicotine lingered in the air as he stood behind her and grabbed her by the shoulders, allowing the memory of her sedation to come flooding back.

  ‘Sit down,’ he demanded as he shoved her down onto the seat.

  Frightened little gasps whooshed out of her as she stared at the man opposite.

  But he didn’t look at her. Instead, he pulled out a mobile phone from his pocket and punched in some numbers. It was a small, cheap phone. One that had been purchased for this job alone and would likely be disposed of immediately after its use. He held it to her ear and she listened to the ringing tone until there was a click and then her father’s voice.

  ‘Hello. Hello. I’m here. Where’s my daughter. Let me speak to my daughter.’

  ‘Dad,’ she whispered, unable to stop the tears.

  ‘Elena. Oh God, Elena,’ he said. ‘Have they hurt you?’

  ‘I’m fine…’ she lied as the phone was dragged away from her ear, her time up.

  ‘You will be contacted again with instructions,’
her captor said. It was a quick transaction with no emotion and his eyes were on her as he hit the button terminating the call.

  She glared at him. Go on, look if you must. Come a little closer and see my hatred for you. See how it fills my soul.

  She may not be able to say it or even properly show it, but she could feel it. No one would take that away from her.

  While hatred briefly fired her up, the sound of her father’s voice only heightened her sense of isolation, and the danger she was in. She was all alone in this room with two men – one of whom wanted to do her harm. The other, she was yet to find out.

  Cigarettes huffed with disgust and scratched a fingernail along her neck as he walked away, making her wince as it left a long thin welt on her skin.

  ‘Leave it,’ her captor warned. ‘Get the hell out of here and go downstairs.’ He watched Cigarettes move to the door and leave the room before turning to face her.

  ‘I hear you’ve been testing his patience,’ he said as his eyes scanned her cheek.

  Even in her perilous state, she gave a small, cynical laugh and despite her best attempts to control it, a seething feeling grew within her.

  ‘Are you deliberately trying to make this harder for yourself?’ he asked as he meandered across the room and leaned against the wall opposite her. It wasn’t necessary for him to be near for her to feel his power. It filled the room.