Collecting Scars

by Tee Smith

Asha blushed a little. Had she been too harsh on him?

  “Oh Polly, do you think it could ever work between us, though? It's not like either of us have a good solid parental relationship as a guide. What if we turned out like our own parents?”

  Polly laughed and shook her head. “That would never happen, look at you both my dear, you are both dead scared of turning out like your parents, I think you would be the complete opposite.”

  “I don't know Polly, I just don't know if I could put myself through all that. I am so scared of falling in love with him and then losing him.”

  Polly stood and walked to stand in front of her. “Only you can decide if it’s worth the scars, Asha. From where I stand, what I can see is two people who already love each other, but they are both too scared to admit it.”

  Asha stood and hugged the older woman. “Thank you so much, Polly,” she whispered in her ear.

  “You're more than welcome my dear, anytime, now go get your man.” She swatted Asha on the bottom and sashayed off.

  Who even was this amazing woman? Everyone needs a Polly in their life.

  Chapter 20

  ASHA TOSSED AND TURNED, SHE tried to sleep but it just wouldn't come. She missed having Xavier in her bed, she missed his good night texts on the nights when he was not there. She missed his smile, his laugh, his beautiful green eyes. Polly's words played over and over in her mind.

  Had she been too quick to dismiss Xavier? She knew how she felt about him. It was not like she hated him and was angry with him. In fact, she was angry with herself more than anything. She had never meant to fall for him. Not now. Not after she had worked hard to be where she was in her life, in her career. This was not how it was supposed to have panned out. Hurting Xavier was never meant to be part of the agenda either. He was a good man. A kindred spirit, maybe if she believed in all that nonsense she might have thought of him as a soul mate. But those types of things were for hopeless romantics. Hopeless as she may be feeling right now, hopeless romantic she was not.

  She believed every word she had said to Xavier about not having a happy ever after. People died, people lied, cheated and hurt the people they love. It was better to keep your heart closed than to have to feel the pain.

  ***

  Friday dragged, patients came and went like any other day. The end of her shift loomed and Asha did not want to face the reality that was, going home to spend Friday night alone. It was her doing, she had chosen life to be this way. There was no one to blame but herself for the way things were.

  Patrick was catching up with some of his mates who were in town. Joanie was doing whatever it was Joanie did. Gemma had invited her out, but she was feeling melancholy and didn't feel like joining the clubbing scene. She certainly couldn't be turning up at Exes and Oh’s. No a night on the couch watching movies seemed like it might be all she had to look forward too. Maybe she might read a book if she could concentrate for long enough.

  Asha pulled on her coat and said her good-byes to those still left in the clinic, then started her walk home.

  It was cold out tonight and an early fog was starting to descend. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm and walked a little faster. Hearing the revving of an engine coming up behind her, she looked straight ahead, ignoring the vehicle as it pulled up beside her. A door slammed, then there was the opening of another, a sliding door perhaps. Curiosity got the better of her and she turned to see what was going on.

  Rough hands came around her from behind. One arm snaking around her waist and another around her neck. Panicked she threw her head back, kicking back with her feet. Her heart rate picked up, a million thoughts careened through her brain and yet nothing made any sense.

  “Scream and you're dead, right here, right now,” came a harsh, deep male voice close to her ear. There was an oddly muffled noise, it was coming from her mouth. It was like the world was standing still, but moving too fast all at the same time.

  She was thrust forward, her legs like jelly beneath her, still kicking out, but not seeming to make contact with anything. He was pushing her toward the van, the one she had seen time and again. She knew she had to fight him, planting her feet on the ground, she dug her heels into the bitumen, it hurt like hell and it didn't help but it was all she could do. Struggling to breathe, trying to scream. Her shins hit the tailgate of the vehicle as he thrust her forwards. She felt something going over her eyes. The back of her head hurt and she knew if she was to live through this it would hurt more in the days to come. A strange smell, what was that? Something sweet. Suddenly everything went black.

  Chapter 21

  ASHA WOKE UP COLD. HER clothes were torn, she could feel the cold on her bare skin, her coat was gone. She had no idea if her attacker had torn her clothes or if she had snagged them on something during her struggle. Her wrists ached, she strained to move them, feeling a sharp cutting sensation as she did. They were bound behind her back. With what, she couldn't be sure, maybe cable ties. All she knew was the more she pulled to try to free herself the more restrictive the bounds became, cutting deeper into her sensitive bare wrists.

  She was lying on a cold hard concrete floor with no covering. As she attempted to move, she felt a harsh scratching against her cheek. Her neck hurt, she recalled her attacker holding something around her neck. He had threatened her and told her not to scream. If she had of been able too, she most certainly would have but something had been restricting her throat, maybe his hand, but it felt much harder, stronger. It had blocked off her windpipe. The pain she felt there now was probably bruising.

  She was blindfolded. As soon as she had been forced into that damn van, he had something over her head, then something in her mouth. Whatever he had put in her mouth had an unusual taste, she remembered an odd smell. Some kind of chemical, she was sure it had made her lose consciousness. She suspected it might have been chloroform. It was probably merciful that she had lost consciousness.

  ***

  Asha drifted in and out of consciousness, in pain, lying on the cold hard floor. She had lost orientation to time and was brought back to the present by the slamming of a door. There was someone there. She cried out, her voice strained in her sore throat. “Who's there? Why are you keeping me here?”

  “You'll see when its time,” her captor grunted.

  “But I want to go home,” she forced out in defiance.

  “Shut up, just shut up,” the man barked.

  His tone of voice told her he was getting angry and while she did not want to feel his wrath she hoped maybe his frustration with her would lead him to let her go. She was not going to just sit there and play the victim, she had no idea why she was there or what he could possibly want from her.

  “I won't tell anyone, I swear--anyway I don't know who you are or where I am, just take me back to where I was and you will never have to answer to anyone, I promise, I won't even go to the police,” she pleaded.

  A massive bang sounded which made her ears ring. What was that? He hadn't hit her, but the noise was so loud it echoed in her ears. She tried desperately to move, pulling at her tied hands, feeling the burn. She hated that she couldn't see it made her feel so vulnerable. If she could just move the blindfold, just a little so she could see what the noise was.

  “What was that?” she cried out nervously.

  “Just shut-up, shut-up, no more noise or I will gag you again.”

  “Please--I just need to use the toilet,” she begged. She didn't but figured it was worth a try to maybe have him untie her, perhaps she could attempt an escape.

  “No,” he yelled in response. “You will go when I say you go. You will eat when I say you eat, you will drink when I say you drink and you will use the bathroom when I say you will use the bathroom, the rest of the time you will sit and you will shut-up. Do you understand me?”

  Tears erupted, how was she here? How was this happening to her? Any minute now, someone would come for her, the police would come. As she sobbed she heard a heavy door clunk close
d. Was he leaving? Was she alone in the room? She wished she could at least see where she was. Her wrists burned where he had bound them, her head hurt. She hated not being able to see, why was she blindfolded? At least if he didn’t want her to see him, it must mean he was not going to kill her right? Isn’t that what they always say about kidnappers? Why would anyone want to kill her anyway? She was a good person right? Oh what was she going to do, she had to get out there!

  Someone would come for her, someone would find her soon. Everyone would notice she was missing, Joanie and Patrick would notice when she didn’t come home. Work would notice when she didn't turn up, she never missed a day. “Oh crap it's only Friday,” she cried to herself, “I can't stay here until Monday-- someone will come before then.”

  As her crying ebbed she knew she had to think of a plan, what if he came back? She had to get out of here, somehow. Slowly she edged her way up the wall, leaning against it with her back, it was hard to bring herself to a standing position with her hands bound. She stopped dead still when she heard something, from the other side of the room. A whirring noise. “Is someone there?” she called out. No reply. “Please...please help me,” her voice sounded pitiful, even to her own ears. If only she could see, if only she could move her hands. Another whirring noise, she was sure she didn't imagine it. “Someone? Anyone? Please help me.” Still nothing.

  Asha stayed still, just listening in the dark. Nothing. Gently she edged her way along what she assumed was a wall, shuffling sideways, keeping her back flush against the hard surface. Not being able to see or feel with her hands she felt very apprehensive.

  Again she heard that noise, whir or was it a whiz? She could not be sure, however, it sounded electronic. A fan? A computer maybe? Her leg hit something cold, hard, maybe metallic, she stretched out her foot in an effort to determine what it was. The leg of a bed perhaps? Then a smell. Asha couldn’t help but think it was funny how your other senses seem to work better when one was taken away. She was sure she could smell toast.

  There was a rattle maybe a deadbolt being released. Then she heard the opening of what sounded like a solid door, followed by heavy footsteps moving closer.

  “I brought you some food,” a gruff voice came out of the darkness.

  “Please,” Asha pleaded, “I can't eat with my hands bound, please untie me.”

  “Okay, I'll untie you, but try anything stupid and I will bind you to the bed.”

  “Thank you, I won't try anything, I promise. Thank you.”

  Rough hands pulled her away from the wall. Then she felt something cold and hard between her wrists, a knife? He was using a knife to cut her binds, a couple rough tugs against her wrists and her hands were free. The relief was immense. She dare not ask to have her blindfold removed, she could do that herself when her captor left the room, now her hands were free.

  Oh goodness, what was she even thinking? How could it be that she was going about her life minding her own business and suddenly she was what? Kidnapped? Why would anyone want to kidnap her? It's not like her parents had a lot of money and could pay a ransom, in fact, she would be surprised if her mother even cared she was missing. To what end was all this? It must have been a random thing, so then what? What would become of her? Would she be sold off as some kind of sex-slave or something? She had read stories of women being taken off the street and sold to gangs, forced to work as prostitutes. Oh, gawd it was too much to think about. She would have to be found and soon. Surely someone saw her being taken? It was a busy road after all. Someone must have seen or heard something and called the police. They would be out looking for her now. It would not take long. If she just waited and did as she was told, hopefully, he would not hurt her anymore.

  “Here eat.” His hands were on her shoulders and she was being forced down. There was something at the back of her legs, a chair or bed maybe. She lifted shaky fingers to her blindfold.

  “May I?” she whispered.

  “After I leave the room,” came the response, there was something about that voice she recognised, but she could not quite put her finger on it.

  “What about the bathroom? I need to pee.”

  “There's a bucket in the corner and I will bring you some hot water and a towel in the evenings to wash with.”

  “Please mister, why me? Why am I here?” she pleaded.

  Whack! A stinging pain seared her cheek and she automatically brought her hand up to cup it. She had been hit in the face before. Her mum had slapped her across the face when she was younger and it felt like a similar pain, although harder than she recalled.

  “If you don't stop asking questions you will get more,” he yelled, so close to her face she could smell his breath. It smelled of whisky and a hint of something spicy. Bile rose up in her throat and she had to force it down.

  “Sorry,” she breathed.

  Pain tore at her scalp as he grabbed a handful of her hair in his fist, her head wrenched back. It felt as if every strand of hair was being ripped from its follicle.

  “You will be if you don't sit there, shut-the-fuck-up and behave yourself. Understand me Nursey?”

  Asha nodded as best she could, not wanting to move for the pain in her head and not game to speak. Then she heard him moving again, she heard the strain of what she thought was a heavy metal door, heard it slam shut and again heard the padlocks and deadbolt.

  “Nursey,” he had called her “Nursey.” He knew she was a nurse. She was wearing her work uniform, but she didn't wear nurse-type clothing to work unless she was working a clinical shift. Was it coincidental or was it because she was a nurse that she was taken? She was confident, the van she had been picked up in was the same van that had been following her home, so there was a very real possibility that they had been planning this for some time. But why her? What was it they wanted, she was just so confused.

  Waiting to be sure he was gone, she slowly pulled off the blindfold and took her first look around the room she was being held in. It was small, maybe two metres square. She was sitting on a simple pipeline bed. Baby blue, she guessed it had once belonged to a young boy. The bed had a thin foam mattress which was stained in places, no sheets no pillow. There was a small thin cotton blanket folded at the end of the bed.

  As advertised, there was a bucket in the corner. A single light hung overhead, just a bare bulb no light shade. She looked around at the bare walls, no switch.

  The room was otherwise bare and windowless, the walls were rendered, not painted. Again she heard the whirring noise, she scanned the room with keen eyes. In one corner, near the ceiling, she could see a small lens looking back at her. A camera. Someone, her captor no doubt, was watching her every move.

  He had left her some buttered toast, she brought one piece to her mouth, her stomach rumbled. She felt hungry but nauseated at the same time.

  Her thoughts turned to Xavier. She had been thinking about what Polly had said, thinking she should maybe talk to him. Maybe she would have gone to see him this weekend. He wouldn't even know she was missing, she wondered if he was still angry with her. If he even cared about her anymore. Her heart twisted in her chest. If only she could turn back the clock.

  What about Joanie? She must be wondering where she was, but then again it was Friday, well at least she thought it was still Friday. Joanie would be going out with Clare, how long would it take for her to even notice she was gone?

  Patrick, dear Tricky. He had always managed to twist her around his little finger. Asha could understand why their mother had loved him so much. Even when he was in trouble he still had a way of wooing the women in his life.

  Maria? At least Maria would be looking for her, maybe not until Monday morning. No, she wouldn't be here on Monday, she'd be long gone from this place before Monday morning. Back to her normal, mundane life.

  Suddenly the thought hit her, what if she was dead by Monday? What if he killed her? What if she never got to see Xavier again? She needed the see him. She had pushed him away, yet he kept coming back
. It had been days since she had heard from him. She knew she had pushed him too far. She knew it was up to her to fix things if they ever had a chance of being together. He was the best thing that had happened to her in many, many years and she had pushed him away. Called him terrible things. A sob caught in her throat. The camera whirred. “No,” she yelled at it, at her captor. “I will not let you beat me, you bastard.”

  Time passed, so agonisingly slow it felt like days to Asha as she lay back on the bed. Thinking about the people she loved on the outside. Wondering how long it would be until someone came for her when without warning the room was plunged into darkness.

  “Hello?” she called out, fear gripping at her. “Is anyone there?”

  There was the turning of a key, the sound of a deadbolt being unlatched. He was back. The door was pushed open. She struggled in the dark, waiting for her eyes to adjust, maybe she would lay eyes on her captor. Maybe she would get some answers. Nothing was said, just the sound of something scraping across the concrete, a small splash of water and then the door was hefted closed again.

  Again she heard the deadbolt engage and the room was filled with light once more. Now near the door stood a fresh bucket of water and a small raggedy towel sat on the floor beside it.

  “Well at least he's true to his word,” she muttered.

  The camera whirred again as she moved toward the bucket, it appeared to be following her movements. He was watching her. Waiting for her to strip off to wash? There was no way she was going to put on a show for him.

  Taking one corner of the towel she dipped it into the lukewarm water, washing her face first, then gently washing her arms and painfully lacerated wrists, wiping herself clean, then drying herself with the other end of the towel as she went. It was not like she could get properly clean anyway with a bucket of water and a towel, neither did she have clean clothes to change into. Somewhere along the way she had lost her shoes, maybe on the side of the road. Hopefully, someone would find them and it would alert them to her having being abducted. A clue to whoever might look for her that would be a good thing surely. Everyone knew she walked that same route home every day.