Held, Pushed, and 22918 (3 Complete Novels)

by Kimberly A Bettes

  I thought he was going to kill me. I almost hoped he would just to end my suffering.

  But he didn’t kill me. Instead, he began releasing my wrists and ankles from the shackles. Had I not been so close to death, I would’ve kicked his ass and ran. But I could barely roll my head to the side, much less fight or run. It took all my strength to blink, which I had to do because I sure couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time.

  “You’ve really took a turn for the worse in the four days since I saw you last.”

  Four days? That meant I’d been in the basement nine days total. Nine days without food. Nine days with almost no water. Nine days.

  As he picked me up and carried me up the stairs, I caught a glimpse of my legs draped across his arm. My skin was a pale shade of blue. I looked up at him. I wanted to kill him. But more urgently, I wanted to eat. And drink. And sleep.

  When Ron stepped into the hallway, I expected the warmth of the house to rush over me, but it didn’t. Or if it did, I couldn’t feel it. My skin was numb. He looked at me lying in his arms and asked, “Do you need to use the restroom?”

  Though it took all my strength, I shook my head.

  “Do you want to shower?”

  I tried to shake my head again, but didn’t have the strength. I managed to whisper, “No.” I guess he heard me. He carried me to my room. Before he could put me on the bed and cover my bluish body, I’d closed my eyes and welcomed the relief that came with the darkness.

  43

  When I woke, I wasn’t sure where I was. I didn’t recognize the room. It took a few minutes for me to remember the situation I was in.

  The sun shone through the window and fell across the bed brightly. I lay there for a while, unmoving. My stomach wasn’t really rumbling anymore. It was aching. All of my insides ached. My mouth was so dry, I was sure that if I moved my tongue, it would stick to the roof of my mouth.

  Faintly, I could hear Ron across the hall clicking away at the keys of his computer.

  Deciding to call to him, I tried to lick my lips, but it was no use. In fact, calling to him was no use either. My tongue was dry as a bone and so was my throat. Maybe that was why my voice refused to work. An ungreased wheel won’t roll.

  It was too much work, too much effort. I just couldn’t do it. I closed my eyes, exhausted.

  The next time I opened them, the room was orange with the angry glow of the setting sun. I didn’t hear the clicking of the keys anymore. I wondered where Ron was. I considered calling to him, but remembered my previous failed attempt and pushed the thought away.

  As I closed my eyes, ready to give myself back to the peaceful sleep I longed for, I heard Ron come into the room. Slowly, I opened my eyes again and looked to Ron, who stood beside the bed looking at me.

  “Finally.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to the bedside table where a pitcher of water set. He poured a glass.

  He put one hand behind my head and lifted it slightly off the pillow. He put the cup to my lips. I tried to make my lips purse to the cup to drink, but they were dry and stiff and refused to cooperate. So Ron slowly poured a little water into my mouth through my slightly parted lips. The water was cold and marvelous. My throat was too dry to swallow, so I opened my throat and let the water slide down.

  It hurt at first, but felt good after that. I didn’t drink too much. I didn’t want to vomit.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Ron after returning the glass of water to the bedside table. He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a small bowl and a spoon. He sat on the bed again and scraped the spoon through the bowl. He brought it to my mouth. “It’s applesauce. It’ll be easy on your stomach and won’t hurt to swallow.”

  He was right. It didn’t hurt to swallow, though the acid stung. I didn’t even care about that. I just wanted more.

  After feeding me, Ron left and I slept. It was an uneasy sleep, though. I periodically woke up, stomach racked with cramps.

  Finally, morning came and with it, Ron. He came in and gave me water, which I was able to swallow. He fed me more applesauce, which I was also able to swallow. I was happy to learn that I could lick my lips without breaking them, though my upper lip did split in the middle the first time.

  “Do you feel better today?”

  “Yes,” I managed to say. My throat was sore, but at least it worked today.

  “Good. You had me worried.”

  I wanted to remind him that it was his fault. I didn’t have the energy to say it, and I had the wisdom to know that it was a bad idea anyway.

  As Ron got up, claiming he had to get back to his book, I asked to use the bathroom.

  “Sure,” he said. He released me from the bed and had to help me stand. As much as I hated it, I had to lean on him to walk to the bathroom. I’d never been so weak in all my life.

  When we reached the bathroom, he opened the door and flipped on the light.

  “Do you need me to come in and help you?”

  I considered it. I probably did need his help. But I needed my dignity and pride more.

  “No. I’ll steady myself against the counter.”

  “Okay. If you need me, call out. I’ll be right here.”

  I walked into the bathroom and Ron closed the door behind me. Wobbly, I sat on the toilet. I closed my eyes as the dizziness came and went. Though I’d felt like I had to pee a bucketful, barely anything came out. It was reassuring to know that my plumbing still worked.

  After wiping and flushing, I made my way to the sink and washed my hands, taking care with the forefinger of my left hand. I opened the drawer and picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste. After squirting a glob of paste on the bristles, I brought the brush to my mouth and looked in the mirror. I froze at the sight of myself.

  I knew I looked terrible, but I wasn’t prepared to actually see myself in this condition. Having seen the other girls in the basement, I had an idea of what to expect. But to see it was a shock.

  My hair was greasy and dirty, hanging in stringy strands. My skin was pale and blotchy. My lips were white and cracked. My eyes had large, dark circles around them. Gone were my round cheeks, replaced by sharp cheekbones.

  Bracing myself for the worst, I let my eyes fall downward, taking in my still-naked body.

  My collarbone was much more visible than it had been. In fact, all of my bones were more prominent, stretching my skin tautly.

  And then there was the cut. Between my breasts was a large, rugged X cut into my flesh. Worse than the cut was the large red area around it, a sure sign of infection. And if the angry red area surrounding the cut wasn’t enough of a sign of infection, there was the pus. I brought my left hand up to touch the wound, but noticed my finger.

  Ron had removed the piece of plastic from under than nail, but an infection had settled in there too. And my nail had turned black.

  I closed my eyes and brushed my teeth.

  44

  After helping me back to bed, Ron left, getting back to his book. I slept, the trip to the bathroom having drained me of my strength.

  That’s how the next couple days were spent. I ate and drank more each time, and soon began going to the bathroom with frequency. Eventually, I conjured enough energy to take a bath. I didn’t trust my legs to hold me for a shower. Besides, sitting in the hot water helped shake off the chill I’d had since being in the basement. I’d just started to think I’d be cold forever, but the bath helped bring my body temperature back to normal and made me feel better.

  A couple of days later, I was tired of lying in bed. When Ron came in carrying a small plate of scrambled eggs, I told him I wanted to eat them at the kitchen table.

  He nodded and helped me to the kitchen, where he cuffed me quickly to the table and set my eggs in front of me along with a cold glass of milk.

  After I’d eaten the scrambled eggs and drank the milk, Ron washed the saucer and glass. While he washed, he spoke.

  “You’re going to love this no
vel, Nicole.”

  I doubted it.

  “It is a beautiful work of art that I can’t wait for you to read. It will blow you away.”

  I didn’t think so.

  “I’m in the editing stage right now. It won’t be long. By dinner this evening, it should be finished. I’m sure you’ve been waiting to read it.”

  I hadn’t.

  “I’m sure it makes you happy to know that all our hard work has finally paid off.”

  It didn’t.

  “Do you think it’ll be good?” he asked, turning to me and dried his hands on a towel.

  I shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

  He nodded. He walked over to me, leaned down and kissed my forehead. He then leaned toward my ear and whispered, “I’ll visit your room tonight to celebrate.” Then, he walked down the hall to his room. Soon, I could hear the faint clicking of the keys as he edited his magnificent book of horrors.

  For a while, I just sat there, happy to be out of bed but feeling sluggish. It was similar to the feeling I always had the day after I had the flu. My muscles were stiff and achy, and my head felt like it was floating away from my neck. I seemed to be moving in slow motion. But at least I was out of the basement. And alive.

  A few days ago, that was something I was sure I’d never be able to say.

  But here I was, cuffed to the table with a full albeit achy stomach, and I was alive. I just might live to see my son again after all.

  45

  I sat there for a long time, thinking. When I grew tired of thinking about everything except my time in the basement, I began to think of what had happened to me while I was down there. I didn’t want to. But the memories kept pricking my brain, fighting their way in.

  To keep my mind occupied, I decided to do a few puzzles. I looked around, but I didn’t see either of my puzzle books.

  I reluctantly called out to Ron.

  “What is it, Nicole?” he asked as he came down the hallway.

  “Could you get me one of the puzzle books?”

  “Sure,” he said walking over to one of the drawers. He brought me both puzzle books and a new crayon. “Is that all you need?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Are you okay in here or do you need to go back to bed?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Okay then. I’ll be in my room putting the finishing touches on what can only be described as a masterpiece. Call if you need me. Otherwise I’ll see you in about an hour for lunch.”

  Ron left me sitting at the table doing puzzles. After three word searches, I put down the crayon and rubbed my eyes.

  More out of habit than anything, I checked the cuff around my wrist. It was something I’d been doing since the beginning of my captivity. I’d always felt that there would come a day when he failed to tighten the cuff around my wrist, or a day that my wrist would be small enough to slide out, or a day when both of those things happened.

  A day like today.

  As I pulled my wrist slowly through the cuff, not all the way—just enough to make sure it would come out, I heard Ron clicking the keys on his keyboard, writing of his sins.

  My heart pounded in my chest.

  I stared at the shiny silver cuff loosely wrapped around my right wrist. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Ron was still in his room, I slowly and carefully pulled my hand from the cuff.

  Instead of letting the cuff fall and risk it clanking and bringing Ron, I lowered it carefully and made sure it wasn’t going to swing and hit anything. Then, I used my left hand to cup my right wrist, rubbing it gently in disbelief. I couldn’t believe it.

  I stood, careful to not make a sound, and walked lightly to the door that led from the kitchen to the laundry room. I went through the laundry room and into the garage. To my surprise, my car wasn’t there. I don’t know why, but I had expected it to still be there, hidden from the world. As I walked through the empty garage, I realized my car was probably at the bottom of the Mississippi River, still hidden from the world. Or maybe the bastard had taken it back to the mall to be found by the police, adding to the mystery of my disappearance by making them wonder if I was really missing or had just left to start a new life.

  My heart was thumping so hard in my chest, it made my breathing fast and raspy, as if I’d been running.

  I stood at the garage door, hand prepared to pull it open, but I hesitated. What if it made such a clatter that Ron came running and grabbed me before I could get out? I considered going back through the house and out the front door, but I was standing at a door, and that was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I’d just have to be fast, which in my weakened condition, was asking a lot of myself.

  I braced myself and pulled with all my strength as fast as I could, planning to get through the door and out before Ron had a chance to hear.

  But instead of the door rising, it stayed put. My shoulder however, was a different story. I’d jerked suddenly with all my strength on a heavy door that hadn’t budged. My shoulder now ached and burned. I’d obviously torn something. Adding to my new list of miseries was my chest. The scab that had formed on the X had pulled apart in my failed attempt to open the door. I could feel something running down my chest and abdomen. Blood or pus, I wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter. This close to freedom, none of it mattered.

  Realizing that this door was locked, I quickly went back into the house through the laundry room. I hated to, but I had no choice. There was no other door in the garage and I had to get out, even if it meant going back in.

  Quietly, I stepped into the kitchen. I looked at the chair in which I always sat and shuddered as a chill ran down my spine. I looked to the hallway, checking for Ron. He wasn’t there.

  As quickly and quietly as possible, I crept through the kitchen. Where the kitchen and the hallway met, I turned, heading into the living room. I could see the front door and I focused on it, making it all I saw.

  Over my raspy breathing, I heard nothing. That is, until Ron said my name.

  46

  I froze, my breath caught in my lungs. My mind raced, taking in many things at once. Closer to the kitchen than to the living room door, I felt my best chance was to get back to the chair. If I rushed toward the door, I’d never make it. Especially if it was locked.

  Quickly, I retreated back into the kitchen where I sat in the chair.

  Just as my ass hit the chair, Ron’s voice boomed from the hallway. I turned to face him. He was standing in his room, head and shoulders leaned through the doorway and into the hall.

  “Nicole? Why didn’t you answer me?”

  Controlling my breathing as best as I could, I said, “I didn’t hear you.”

  I thought I saw his eyes narrow with suspicion, but from this distance, it might’ve been my imagination. I couldn’t be sure.

  “I asked you what you wanted for lunch.”

  “Oh. A sandwich is fine,” I said, trying my best to sound normal.

  “Ok. I’ll be there in a second.”

  He disappeared back into the room and I quickly slipped my hand back into the cuff. I fought every instinct to do so, but I managed. After all, I’d spent months trying to pull my hand free, waiting for that one moment when it slid free, and that moment had finally arrived. Only here I was, having to slide my hand back into the cuff.

  My freedom, having only lasted a minute or so and not even being actual freedom, had made me feel alive for the first time in months. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, giving me a rush that no heroin junkie had ever achieved. I really was hopeful that I would make it through. How could I not be with the end so near in sight?

  Ron came in and made us each a ham sandwich and a glass of iced tea.

  Sitting across the table from him knowing that I could get free was intense. I had to make sure to appear that all was normal, but I was excited. My heart was pounding painfully in my chest. My hand trembled, but I didn’t think he noticed. I kept it hidden in my lap as much as possibl
e. My only real worry was that in my excitement, my cheeks would flush and he would be suspicious.

  Fortunately, he had excitement of his own that kept him from noticing such things. I listened to him drone on about his monster piece, but all I could think about was opening the front door and running away, running back to my husband and son.

  To keep myself calm, I didn’t give much thought to the reunion. I could only think about one step at a time. Right now, the first step was getting through lunch. After that, I had to get out of the house. When I was away from Ron and safe, I could think about other things. To be sidetracked now would be the end.

  When we were finally finished with lunch, Ron washed our glasses. He then turned to me.

  “Do you need anything else?”

  I shook my head, afraid that if I opened my mouth, my voice would crack and give me away.

  “Okay. I’m going back to my room. You’ll be happy to know, Nicole, that in no more than an hour, my novel will be finished. And this is only the beginning.” He smiled as he walked toward me. “We’re destined to be together forever now, Nicole.”

  My blood ran cold.

  “This book is the tie that binds us. Forever. I can’t wait for you to read it.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I fought back the urge to vomit, but I took some comfort in knowing that he would never be able to kiss me again.

  I listened to the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall over the sound of my furiously beating heart. My palms were wet with nervous sweat and trembling in anticipation.

  When I once again heard the sound of clicking keys, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t see Ron. Then, I yanked my wrist from the cuff and stood on wobbly knees.

  Without hesitation, I headed for the living room. But then I stopped.

  I quickly and quietly walked back across the kitchen to the refrigerator. I reached up and grabbed Mason’s teddy bear. Ron had stolen it from my baby and brought it here, sitting it atop the refrigerator as a constant reminder to me that he could take away my family at any time. There was no way I was leaving it here. Tucking the bear under my arm, I made my way back to the living room, where I raced to the front door.