Held & Pushed (2 book bundle)

by Bettes, Kimberly A.

  I shook my head.

  “I thought not. I believe I’m right about you, Nicole. We are going to do great things.”

  I was afraid of what he meant by that.

  Chapter 9

  For the next month, my days were filled with the same routine. I was released from the bed, allowed to shower, fed breakfast, and spent the day trapped in conversation and cards. Sometimes we played board games, but mostly just cards.

  Ron had changed the way he handcuffed me to the bed. My arms were no longer straight above my head. Instead, they were angled outward toward the corners of the headboard. It was better, but every morning, my shoulders and neck were stiff and sore, and ached for the biggest part of the day. I didn’t complain about it. After all, I was being held captive. If that’s the worst thing I went through, I’d consider myself lucky.

  On days when Ron had to leave the house, he handcuffed me to the bed. He put my arms in the usual position, and he even stretched my legs out and handcuffed each ankle to the footboard. He then used a pink bandana to gag me, saying I sure did look pretty in pink. He would stroke my hair and tell me that he hated to do it, but he still couldn’t trust me while he was away.

  Ron watched my every move. When I asked him about it, he told me he was studying me for the book. When I asked how that was coming along, he said he hadn’t started it yet, but was close. I was close too. Close to losing my mind. I was trying to keep it together, hoping that if I could keep him satisfied with conversation and company, he’d write the damn book and let me go. I pushed away any thoughts that said otherwise.

  Stephanie continued to scream from time to time in the basement. It always angered Ron, who stomped down there in a huff. Moments later, Stephanie fell silent and each time, I wondered if he’d killed her. I knew enough about him now to know it was only a matter of time until it happened. As selfish as it was, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen to me after he’d killed her. Would I take her place? Would he begin to do the things to me that he apparently enjoyed doing to her? I hoped not. But I just didn’t know.

  Every night, he undressed me. And every night, as I stood before him naked, he kissed my neck. Once I was strapped to the bed, he kissed and touched my body in various places. Though there had been a couple of times when I was sure it was going to happen, he still hadn’t raped me. It made me nervous because I could tell by the way he kissed and touched me when I was naked that he wanted me. Badly. Even if I’d failed to notice the lust in his touch, I wouldn’t have failed to notice the bulge in his khaki slacks. I wasn’t sure how long he’d hold out before giving in to his desires.

  During the second week, he noticed my leg hair had grown to be stubbly, and said we were going to have to do something about it. Personally, I wanted the hair to grow as long the hair on my head if it meant it would turn him off to me physically, but he insisted we get rid of it. Of course, he wouldn’t buy a razor and let me shave my own legs. And it was a good thing for him he didn’t. I would’ve disassembled that sucker and went to slicing and dicing on him in a hurry. But he did buy an electric shaver and shave them himself. It was humiliating, but again, if this was as bad as it got, then fine by me.

  The third week, I had my period. He bought the tampons I needed. In fact, anything I needed, he provided without so much as a complaint. Had he not been a psychopath, he would’ve made an excellent husband.

  The fourth Wednesday into my captivity, however, things went wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

  I’d been living up to my end of this arrangement with my smart mouth. He liked the way I handled myself. I had a feeling it was what kept me out of the basement. His moods changed quicker than the flicker of a light bulb, though. One second, I was mouthing off to him and he was laughing and loving it. The next second, he was showing his angry side because of something I’d said. I wasn’t used to dealing with schizophrenic psychopaths and wasn’t sure how to handle it. I thought I was doing a pretty good job, though, for someone thrust into a situation like this.

  I was cuffed to the kitchen table while Ron prepared dinner. With his back to me, he mentioned his plans for the evening.

  “I believe it’s time, Nicole.”

  “Time for what?”

  “It’s time for me to show you how I feel about you.”

  I looked down at my cuffed wrist with the chafed skin. “I think I know how you feel about me, Ron.”

  “I don’t think you do. And even if you did, I believe it’s time I showed you.”

  My mind spun as I tried to think of what he could possibly mean. There were several things popping into my mind, but I prayed for each one to be wrong.

  “Are you going to let me go now?” I asked, knowing the answer would be no.

  He chuckled. “No. Tonight, I will come to you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I will come to you, Nicole. I will come to your bed, and you will have me.”

  “You come to my bed and I’ll have you, alright. I’ll have you arrested.”

  He threw his head up toward the ceiling and laughed a deep laugh. I watched as he continued to laugh, shaking his head with amusement. Glad I could humor him.

  “Oh, Nicole. I’m so glad you’re here. This last month has been such a joy for me. You have no idea how good you’ve been for me and how much I’ve enjoyed having you here. That’s one reason I plan to come to you tonight. I’d like to show you how much I appreciate you.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  I watched him tense. “What do you mean you’re okay?”

  “I have some idea of how much you appreciate me. There’s no need to show me.” I tried to say it lightly, hoping to avoid making him angry. I saw immediately that it hadn’t worked.

  He spun around to face me. “I’m going to show you. I’ve been more than good to you, and what have I asked in return? Nothing. I’ve asked nothing of you. I provide you with food, a proper place to sleep, all the things you need, and I have asked nothing in return.” His cheeks grew red with anger, and even from across the room I saw his nostrils flare.

  “Hey,” I yelled, all my restraint falling away. “You make it sound like I asked to move in here with you. You kidnapped me! To say that you provide me with food and a proper place to sleep is stupid. You brought me here against my will. You’ve asked nothing of me? You’ve asked everything of me! You asked me to be compliant and submissive. To not scream so people can hear. You’ve asked me to assist you in writing a book that no one will read. You want me to keep you in conversation and be good company for you. And now you ask me to let you have your way with me. I don’t want to be here, asshole, but I’m stuck. I’ve made this easy on you so far.” Before I could go on, he laughed a loud, fake laugh.

  “You’ve made this easy on me so far?” He laughed again. It wasn’t his normal you’re-so-funny-and-cute-and-that’s-why-I-keep-you-out-of-the-basement laugh. This was thin and strained. The man was cracking up in front of me. Suddenly, the laughter stopped and he glared at me.

  A chill ran down my spine. I wasn’t a fortune teller or a psychic, but I had a feeling that I’d just screwed myself.

  He turned his back to me and continued dinner, without speaking. I welcomed the silence, but it worried me. I’d clearly made him angry. This quiet anger was new, a side he hadn’t shown until now.

  We ate in silence.

  Usually, after dinner, we played cards and had a drink. Not today. Today, after dinner, he went to the basement, leaving me sitting at the table alone.

  As I always did, I tried to pull my hand free of the handcuff. There was sure to be a time when he failed to tighten the cuffs, and I was going to slip away. I never knew when that day would be, so I constantly tried to slide my arm free.

  Several minutes later, I began to feel funny. Lightheaded, like my head was going to float off my body. My mouth became dry, and I felt nauseous. I broke out in a cold sweat. Feeling as though I were going to pass out, I put my left arm on the tab
le and laid my head on it. I closed my eyes and hoped the feeling would pass.

  I dreamed Ron picked me up and carried me away from the table. Cupped in his arms, I felt as though I were falling down into the cool darkness.

  When I woke some time later, I was devastated to learn that it hadn’t been a dream at all.

  Chapter 10

  So this was the basement, I thought as I blinked to clear my vision. I’d spent all this time wondering what it was like and now I was here. And I wished like hell I wasn’t.

  The cold steel cuff was tight on my right wrist, the other end of the cuffs locked around a thick metal pipe that ran up the dirty concrete wall. I was lying on an old mattress on the floor. I had a pillow, though it smelled terrible. In fact, the whole basement smelled horrible. It was a sickening combination of dampness, rotten wood, dirt, stale water, and a medley of body odors.

  I looked across the ceiling to the bare bulbs that hung from the beams. I counted four bulbs swinging from long cords, but only three of them were lit. One of them was considerably dimmer than the other two.

  Raising my head from the pillow, I looked down my body and across the room. About ten feet past the end of the mattress I was lying on, was the stairs that led to the main floor. Where I should be. Where I would be, if I hadn’t let my stupid mouth out-talk my ass.

  The mattress that was my bed at the moment was nestled in the corner, a wall on two sides. The room opened up to my left, where I turned my attention.

  That’s when I saw Stephanie.

  I quickly scooted myself into a sitting position, taking in the scene before me.

  She was naked, just as she’d been the last time I’d seen her. I hadn’t thought it was possible at the time, but she was dirtier now than then. Her arms were stretched out, each handcuffed to a chain. The chains were connected to some sort of metal hook that was anchored in the concrete floor. Her legs were outstretched in the same manner, spread wide apart.

  “Stephanie,” I said hoarsely. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Stephanie.”

  She didn’t seem to hear me. If she was asleep, surely she would’ve been woken by the sound of my voice. I said her name again, louder this time, but she still didn’t move. I was afraid he’d killed her. Focusing on her chest where her bare breasts were covered in dirt, bruises, and lacerations, I saw the rise and fall of her body, though it was quick and had no rhythm. She wasn’t doing well.

  She was far too thin. Her ribs were so visible, they appeared ready to poke through her skin at any second. Her hip bones protruded up at sharp angles. She looked to be nothing more than a skeleton with skin.

  Figuring she needed whatever rest she could get, I put my back against the concrete wall, drew my knees up to my chest, and with one arm around my legs and the other handcuffed to a pipe, I waited. I hated to admit it to myself, but I suppose I was waiting on Ron. If he liked me as much as he said, he wouldn’t leave me down here. Of course, if he liked me as much as he said, he probably wouldn’t have put me down here in the first place, no matter how mouthy I had been.

  What must’ve been a half hour went by before the door at the top of the wooden stairs opened and Ron appeared. When he saw that I was awake, he quickly closed the door behind him and nearly ran down the stairs.

  At the bottom, he stopped and smiled at me. “Glad to have you back.”

  “Yeah. Good to be here. Listen, I was thinking maybe you could take me back upstairs with you.”

  “I’m afraid not. At least not for a while.”

  “Why not?”

  “You need to be taught a lesson. I don’t think you appreciate me or the things I’ve done for you. You don’t realize how good you’ve had it, or how much worse you could have it. So I decided that the best way to teach you is to show you. And so you’re here. Learning.”

  Okay. Surely, he wouldn’t leave me down here long. A couple of days, maybe. I could pretend to have learned a lesson. I could act grateful. Speed things along a bit.

  “I hate to see you down here, Nicole. I really do. But you must learn.” He turned his attention to Stephanie. “She never learned. She never cared to learn. All she ever thought about was herself. She didn’t care what I wanted or needed from her. And look at her now. In trying so desperately to save herself, she’s only succeeding in killing herself.”

  “I think she needs to see a doctor.”

  “Oh I’m sure she does.” He laughed. “But that’s not going to happen. You know that, Nicole. Why do you insist on stating the obvious?”

  Not wanting to do anything to cause my stay in the basement to be longer, I shut my mouth.

  He walked over to Stephanie and stood between her open legs looking down on her.

  “I’m sure she has broken bones,” he said leaning down and squeezing a section of her right forearm, making the bones go in different directions.

  I gasped and winced.

  “I’m sure she has infected cuts,” he said as he placed his hands, palms down, on either side of a terribly long and deep cut on her abdomen. I watched as he pulled open the wound, sickened by his actions. From the redness around the wound, I guessed that this wasn’t the first time he’d spread apart her battered flesh. When he reached his hand down and gathered up some dirt from the concrete floor and dropped it into her gaping midsection, it left little wonder as to why it was infected. He wanted it to be. It was part of her lesson. Part of the torture he seemingly enjoyed inflicting on her.

  Stephanie moaned, causing me to look back at her face, but she didn’t wake.

  Ron stood again. For a moment, he didn’t speak or move. He just stood there between her outstretched legs. Then, he suddenly drew back his leg and kicked her in her crotch. With those heavy boot-like shoes of his, I had no doubts that it hurt terribly, but when Stephanie woke screaming, I knew for certain it had. After all, the ripping open of a flesh wound hadn’t stirred her, but this had. With her legs spread open as they were and her feet and hands shackled, she had no way of defending herself. He stood there, kicking her crotch over and over, as hard as he could. He didn’t even stop when the toe of his shoe became covered in her blood.

  Was this the same man that made such great eggs? Was this the same man who could smile while losing at Gin Rummy? The same man who’d bought my tampons without a complaint? The man who’d laundered my clothes and folded them with such care? The very same man who folded the toilet paper to a point?

  I watched as he kicked her, and I winced as she screamed, too shocked to look away.

  Soon, her screams became so shrill they were like shards of glass scratching at my eardrums. Just when I thought I couldn’t stand to hear her scream any more, he suddenly dropped to his knees and unfastened his slacks. He raped her while she screamed. Her screams seemed to excite him. The more she wailed, the harder at her he went. At the pinnacle of her screaming, the moments just before her voice cracked and went hoarse, he was thrusting at her so hard, it seemed as though he were trying to go through her and penetrate the floor. My girlie parts ached just watching. I couldn’t even imagine the pain she was experiencing. I hoped like hell I’d never find out.

  When he was finished, he was panting uncontrollably as sweat rolled down his face and fell from his chin. He slowly got back to his knees. As he put himself away and fastened his slacks, I saw the blood on his manhood. He stood and spit on her before walking back to the stairs. I thought he was leaving, but instead, he turned and sat on the bottom step, facing me from only a few feet away.

  I trembled as I watched him run his hands through his hair and take deep breaths to calm his breathing. I shuddered when I noticed the torn pants and his bleeding knees inside. In his frenzy, he hadn’t even felt his own wounds. Or maybe he had. Maybe he was one of those people that got off on pain.

  He smiled at me. After what he’d just done to her, he was able to smile at me. Unbelievable.

  “It wouldn’t be that way with you, you know.”

  My mouth had gone dry. After s
wallowing a couple of times and working up some saliva, I was able to say, “Then why is it that way with her?”

  “I’ve told you,” he said, clearly irritated at having to repeat himself to me. “I never liked her. She isn’t good company. All she cares about is herself. She’s not like you.”

  I wanted to ask him what was so damn special about me, but I knew enough not to. All he ever said was I was good company, and I made good conversation. He liked me. He liked my personality, my attitude. I decided to leave it alone and just be happy that there was something about me he liked. Maybe his liking me would be my salvation. Surely, it would at the very least save me from the fate that had befallen Stephanie.

  Chapter 11

  Ron left me naked in the basement. Normally, he allowed me to wear my panties. Not this time. He had taken everything. I still tried to look on the bright side. At least I wasn’t tethered to the floor and spread apart the way Stephanie was. I could pull my knees up to my chest and cover myself somewhat. So at least there was that.

  I tried to talk to Stephanie. After many times of saying her name, she finally turned her head slowly toward me. In her eyes, I saw nothing. Whether they were empty because she’d given up or because he’d stripped her of everything that made her a person, they were empty.

  I asked her if she was okay, but she said nothing. A few minutes later, she closed her eyes.

  The temperature in the basement was cool. With no clothes and no blanket, I did the best I could to stay warm. I curled up in the fetal position and eventually fell into a restless sleep.

  Throughout my life, I’d occasionally had nightmares. Usually, I was being chased by a man trying to kill me. Sometimes, he stabbed or shot me, and I always woke right before I died. This time, when I woke, the nightmare that haunted my sleep was nothing compared to the nightmare taking place only a few feet from me.