Now or never. I reached down and grabbed the brick, sprinting toward him. With his head covered, he wouldn't see me coming. I brought the brick down on his torch, smashing the glass and the globe inside. Light died.
I brought the brick up to hit him with it next.
"What the hell?" He flailed around and sent me sprawling before I could clock him with the brick.
I scrambled to my feet, stumbling for the door. My fingers touched wood and I felt around for the handle.
There wasn't one.
I shoved at the door, kicking at the lock, but nothing happened. I remembered this door opened into the room – kicking wouldn't help. I sank to the floor, dizzy.
His voice was alarmingly close. "Here." Something soft touched my face. Not fingers. Fabric.
In the dim light, I could barely make him out as a dark shadow looming over me. I was too tired. He was going to win. My only hope now was that he'd knock me out and I wouldn't feel him hurt me.
"Just fucking get it over with," I panted. I was close to passing out.
"Here. Take my jumper. You must be freezing."
"I give up. You win." I slid down the wall. The concrete under my head was cold but I was drifting out of consciousness anyway. I barely felt it.
"No, angel. I can't win. I've lost too much already. Don't you ever give up. Keep fighting. Don't let them win."
His hands touched me again. I couldn't move to resist them any more.
Darkness descended.
Part 39
I sank onto a stool by the phone and pulled out the phone book. I had a lot of cards to cancel and new ones to request. An hour later, sick of spelling out my name and telling everyone my birth date, I left the kitchen and headed for the pathetic collection of belongings I'd brought home with me from hospital.
I pulled the laptop bag onto my shoulder and carried it to my bedroom, looking for the camera on the hall sensor. Once I'd spotted it, I felt a little safer. At least someone was watching out for me, somewhere. I hoped they were close-by – close enough to come if I needed them.
Unzipping the bag, I lifted the pink 'puter out and started to connect the power cables. I didn't flick the switch on the wifi modem. I didn't want to check my emails, Facebook and all the rest. Answering all the panicked questions would take me ages and I just wanted to focus on the worst of things first.
Jo had told me about the Facebook tribute page, RIP Caitlin, that some idiot had set up. Almost, but not yet, asshole, I thought. I'm not dead yet. I have too much to do. A little justice is in order.
I watched the machine power up, tears springing to my eyes as I saw a photo of Alanna and Nathan on the desktop. They looked like they were on a boat at Rottnest – and they both looked so happy. I'd never seen him smile like that. Perhaps a part of him really had died with her. She'd been so vibrant.
But not stupid. She'd told me to watch out for him. Had she seen danger when it came for her?
I shook the thought from my head. I knew now what they'd done to her, more clearly than anyone else could, for I bore the same injuries. Now I've lived to tell the tale it's time to tell.
The file was saved directly on the desktop, neatly called Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer. Like the title of a horror novel, I thought. I’d never liked horror stories, but I opened this one.
I skimmed through what I'd already told Nathan in the vaguest terms. The most brutal of rapes reduced to thirty words? No, twenty-nine. I could reduce the whole thing to just four, if I really thought about it: It hurt. Never again.
But brevity wasn't called for now. Brutal detail, so I could find them. Hunt them down. Somehow make them pay for what they'd done to me. Like Alanna, I probably should have died. But I didn't. I was on borrowed time. Borrowed for vengeance, for I had no life left as long as they had theirs. I'd never be free until they were all dead.
I carefully stretched my fingers and started to type.
Chris.
The car.
The stolen kiss.
How he took my clothes.
The horror of the first rape. And another…
The cruelty of cuts, breaks, bruises and other brutality.
The horror of help not given, however desperately begged for.
Bloody breakfast cereal that I'd never eat again, no matter how hungry.
And the beach…darkness, freedom, stars, blood, gunshots…almost losing everything.
As I reached the bit where my fingers were broken, I stopped, the tears too much. Now I wanted a hug from Nathan, a promise of cake and comfort. I toyed with calling him, but I didn't. After all, I didn't need him – I just felt a little lost and lonely. Hardly an emergency.
I read through the harrowing account of how Pete…and couldn't do it any more.
As the sky turned mauve, I sat back, looking at the horrible text with some satisfaction. I'd done enough for one day. I hit save.
My stomach rumbled to remind me that I had other concerns than catching criminals. I closed the lid of the laptop and rose, heading for the kitchen.
I opened the fridge first, out of sheer force of habit. The smell that assaulted me was like nothing on Earth I'd ever smelled before. I grabbed the orange juice and slammed it shut quickly. The juice bottle was the only item that hadn't been furry.
I set the bottle on the sink and found a glass. Barbara had kept our house immaculately clean, as always. Having a cleaning lady like her was a luxury I hoped would continue for a long time.
I uncapped the juice bottle and started to pour.
Nothing came out.
I set the bottle on the bench, checking to see if the seal was still on it. It wasn't. I tipped the bottle over the glass again.
A little liquid started trickling into the glass, followed by an enormous blob of goo that splashed over the glass and the draining board in a spectacular orange inkblot.
What does this remind you of?
I could almost hear the hospital psychologist's coaxing voice.
I inclined my head, looking closely.
It reminds me that I've been away for a long time and I need to go food shopping. It reminds me not to drink the orange juice.
I capped the bottle and dropped it into the bin.
As if the clink of the bottle hitting the bin-bottom were some kind of cue, I heard knocking at the front door.
Part 40
The knocking continued as I made my way to the front door.
Jagadamba from across the road stood on my doorstep, her dark eyes worried. "Caitlin! We were all so worried about you and the newspapers kept saying you would not return alive…"
I smiled. "You know me, Jaga. I'm too tough to kill."
"What happened to you?" she asked.
I sighed. "More than any girl should have to put up with." She smelled of spices – the sort that set my hungry stomach off again.
"Oh, don't you worry. You'll be back into life in no time. I know you!" she said fiercely. She dropped her voice. "Would you like some biryani? I made extra when I saw you arrive home, because I thought you'd have nothing in the house and no time to cook." She held up a covered dish and the spicy smell intensified.
I think I drooled a little. I covered my mouth with my hand. "That would be amazing…thanks, Jaga." I took the warm dish from her hands, cradling it in my arms like a baby.
"If there's anything you need, you just call us," she said. "I'll send my husband over if you get any more men visiting who shouldn't be here."
I smiled tiredly. "It's okay. The men before were putting in a new security system." I hoped it was true. Surveillance cameras were a sort of security system, after all.
We both said goodbye and she crossed the road to return home.
I carried my dinner into the kitchen and set it on the bench. Lifting the lid, I inhaled the spicy smell of the still-warm curry. I was ready to eat it all on the spot. Forcing myself to wait, I stuck some rice and water in the rice cooker and turned it on.
While I waited for the rice to c
ook, I stretched out on the lounge room floor and started doing the exercises Althea had given me. I did two sets of everything, then started on the third before the timer beeped. I clambered to my feet, feeling the burn of exhaustion in my thighs as I stood. I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk normally, despite the pain. I could ignore it. I'd ignored worse pain before and no amount of limping would make those bastards pity me if they turned up here. Or her.
If I wanted to kill her and all the rest of them, I needed my strength.
I served up the biryani and rice, spooning a much larger serving than I normally would. I'd need the energy to do more exercises after dinner. I ate the lot, though I felt bloated afterwards as I washed the dishes.
I stuck the rice in the dish Jaga had given me and opened the fridge without thinking. The smell hit me again, just as bad as before. I took a moment to see if I could remove the source…but my fridge looked like something out of a horror movie. Something had gone mouldy in the crisper and the mould had spread from shelf to shelf while I'd been away. It looked like I'd been dissecting calico cats and kept the body parts in my fridge.
I shut the door again, without leaving the dish in there. I popped it in the freezer instead, which bore no fur – just a thin crust of frost.
I headed back to the lounge room, dropping to the floor to repeat my physio exercises until I ran out of strength. I couldn't recover fast enough.
After an hour, a sheen of sweat made my clothes to stick to my skin and my legs were protesting in pain even as I lay on the floor. I decided to try taking a shower.
I managed to stagger to the bathroom, only to collapse in a heap on the bathmat. There was no way I could stand long enough for a shower. Hauling myself up on the side of the bath, I filled the tub instead and crawled laboriously in.
I wanted to sink beneath the bubbles and sleep, but I had my own bed for that – a bed I was definitely looking forward to, after weeks of cold concrete followed by a slightly softer hospital bed.
I drained the tub and crept over to the cupboard for a towel to dry myself with. I was so exhausted I knew as soon as I reached my bed I'd fall in and sleep – I wouldn't want to come back to hang my towel up. I hesitated for a moment, before remembering that Nathan would be monitoring the surveillance cameras. He'd seen me naked only this morning. Taking a deep breath, I tried to walk nonchalantly down the hall to my bedroom.
I closed my bedroom door and pulled on a nightie, before palming the light switch and falling into bed. The soft mattress cuddled me as the quilt enveloped me in what I can only describe as heaven. Home.
Part 41
Forgiveness – Superman – Chris – Clothes
I jerked awake.
Beneath me was the mattress, not concrete. Back where I started. "What'd you do to me?" I demanded, my voice hoarse. I could barely move my legs.
His voice came from over by the door. I could just make out a shadow crouched by the wall. "I gave you my jumper. I moved you to the mattress so you'd be more comfortable. I wrapped you in a blanket so you'd be warm. And I took the other blanket for myself, because it's freezing in here and you're wearing my jumper." He sounded…pleading. Like he wanted my forgiveness or something. He wasn't going to get it.
I could feel the fleece on my skin and the scratchy blanket wrapped around my legs, restricting my movement. "And how many times did you rape me while I was unconscious?" I spat angrily.
"None." His quiet response shocked me, especially as it sounded like he was telling the truth. "And I'm not going to. Save your strength. You don't need to fight me. I'm trying to help you."
"Helping me is getting me out of here. Not stealing my clothes," I pointed out.
"No and I'm sorry. I gave you mine, though. If you don't want it, I'll trade you my blanket for my Superman jumper back."
I forced myself to laugh. "Superman? You think you're Superman? I wouldn't ask you for help even if you were Superman! Hell, that's what I need. A real superhero, to beat the crap out of all these bastards, including you, and get me the hell out of here. I'll keep your damn sweater."
"There are no superheroes, here or anywhere. All you have is me."
You're a pretty poor excuse for my last hope. Yet I'll work with what I have to try to get out.
He continued, "Rest while you can. While I'm here, the others won't touch you."
I hesitated, but I had to ask. "Why not?"
He sounded like it pained him to say it. "Because they think it's my turn to hurt you."
Part 42
I woke myself with my own scream.
Tom had hit me. He'd broken my fingers. And then he'd…
I bit back another scream, trying to slow my breathing and my heart rate. I was on a comfortable bed, not there. I groped for the bedside table, hoping I had a bedside lamp. I couldn't remember any more – it had been so long since I'd slept in my own bed.
My fingers felt the tingle of the touch lamp as the globe lit up…and died.
Swearing, I slid out of bed and tried to find the light switch.
I barely managed to get to the door on my shaky legs, swatting at the switch until it turned on and I could sink to the floor.
I hugged my knees to my chest, feeling very alone.
I want Nathan. I want to feel his arms around me. I want to hear him tell me that I'm safe.
I thought about calling him, but my clock told me it was almost midnight. Who would watch the surveillance cameras if he was here, soothing me to sleep like a big baby?
I forced myself to stand and walk over to the desk, my muscles screaming in protest until I sank into the desk chair. I powered up Alanna's laptop and promptly typed in everything I could remember of my nightmare about Tom, sparing no detail. I got to the worst part and stopped.
No one needs to know how it felt when they raped me. It's no one's damn business. All they need to know is that it happened. And all of them did it.
Quickly, I typed in the four bastards' names. I started to fill in sketchy details of what I remembered about each of them. It was nearing two in the morning by the time I'd finished, but I didn't dare stop until it was done.
Feeling a bit better, I lay down again, deciding to leave the light on. I felt a little afraid of the dark.
I fell asleep and woke screaming. Tom had raped me again in my sleep and I couldn't…couldn't…
I stumbled out of bed and down the hall. Nothing calmed me like music. Nothing.
With shaking hands, I lifted the lid on the piano.
It was time for more exercise. The best kind.
I touched my fingers lightly to the keys, praying it wouldn't hurt too much. I needed to hear music – mine, no one else's.
I tried. I really tried. But my fingers were stiff and my playing was stiffer still. As the sun rose, I played scales. Up and down my piano, limbering my fingers up until they worked again. Yet with every scale, a tune kept creeping into my head. I wanted to hear it on guitar, but I picked it out in piano notes, just letting the sound colour the air around me. Even after hours of scales, my music was still stiff and jerky, but that seemed to suit this piece. A necessary evil, perhaps. Part of the discord in my head.
I shook my discordant head and resumed my scales.
A tattoo on the door matched the rhythm perfectly, but I knew it meant the person knocking wanted my attention. I staggered to my feet and looked at the stained glass decorating my front door, glowing in the early morning sunlight.
A new day had dawned – yet I hadn't slept.
Part 43
I dragged my feet to the door and managed to unlock it. All that playing made it easier to twist the locks, though it still hurt to stand. I had to lean on the door to rest.
I shifted my weight from the wooden door to the screen one, swinging it out to see my visitor better.
Stronger hands than mine moved the door as I did, dragging me along with it and partway down the steps. I tried to hang on, but my fingers weren't strong enough.
Fortu
nately, Nathan's arms were. The only reason I didn't fall was because he caught me.
"What happened?" I heard him say.
I mumbled something about how I couldn't sleep with the nightmares. How the nightmares wouldn't go away.
He lifted me in his arms and told me he was taking me to bed. I wanted to laugh, thinking that such a seduction seemed too sudden, but I contented myself with a smile as I snuggled closer to his chest. I wanted him to comfort me. To stay.
I felt the bed beneath me and he tried to pull away.
No. Not alone again. Please stay.
I reached for him.
As sleep washed over me like a warm wave, I heard him say he would.
I smiled as I drifted off.
In the dark, the bastard took my clothes and I was helpless to stop him. I tried to fight him, but my hands met nothing but air and a pillow. A sweet, soft pillow.
I'm home. Safe.
Where's Nathan?
"I'm here, angel, like I promised. It's okay…" He took my hand in his.
I could barely believe that he'd stayed. I wanted to kiss him, I was so happy to see him. So silly.
He rested his head on the pillow beside me, facing me. "Bad dream?" he asked.
I nodded and he pulled me into a comforting hug.
Somehow this seemed more intimate than before. I lay in bed in his arms, safe and secure, and slept.
Part 44
First – Tied – Fingers – Broken – Cut – Rings – Tom
"Right, where’s the little bitch?" A new voice startled me. Someone's silhouette stood in the open doorway.
Groggy from sleep, I rolled out of the blankets. As I'd slept, Chris had taken his sweater back. Beneath the blanket, I wore a t-shirt. Chilly, I tried to think fast.
"I heard no one's had you yet and I get to be first."
I didn't know the man, nor his voice. Scared of what the new man meant, I flew at the shape, biting, kicking, punching and scratching.
Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller Page 10
