Chapter Four
When she had first opened her eyes, it had been dark; her head had felt like cotton wool. She had been cold, uncomfortable. It had taken a few seconds before she realised she was lying on the floor. A few more before she realised there was a chain on her left hand anchored to something she could not see. A few more and she realised she was also naked. Fear had started to prickle under her skin.
That seemed like so long ago now, she had no idea how long she had been lying there. Not hours, more like days. The never-ending dark was making it hard to keep track of time, but it was long enough for the fear to grow and was now tearing at her very soul in its effort to gorge itself on her raw emotions, consuming every particle in her body. It was a fear made worse by the shadow that came to look at her, being too dark to see the person behind it. The lights were never switched on, it was always dark, always the shadow, no form, no substance, just a dark shape.
She thought she knew the shadow was a man, hearing a male voice muttering under his breath as he watched her, or were that just her imagination playing tricks on her fragile mind, she could not tell. Her perception molded by circumstance, her thoughts ravaged by fear and hunger.
The shadow was now the focus of her fear as she sat cowering in the corner of the dark fetid room. This time he had taken off her shackle freeing her from her prone position. She had immediately retreated to the corner covering her nakedness as modestly as she could in her circumstance.
The shadow was now standing in the opposite corner, just breathing; it was a horrible sucking sound, as if he was trying to stifle a whimper. All she could hear was that horrible sound, over, and over. Was he contemplating her fate, was this it, the way it was going to end, a horrible shadow casting itself over the end of her life. She did not want to die, not here in this stinking room. A room full of her feces.
The shadow moved closer to her, making her flinch involuntarily, she pissed herself, the warm trickle pooling under her naked buttocks.
She thought he tried to say something to her but could not hear him clearly. “Sorry mother”, was the only words she made out, then the shadow was gone and she was left in the dark room alone with a mournful wail echoing off the walls. A wail she finally realised was coming from her own wretched body.
Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 5
