by Jenny Lynn
Breanne I need your help. My purse was stolen and I’m stuck with no way home and a bar tab. Can you bail me out?
I shook my head, poor Tabitha. She must be having a rough night, and I was grateful I was still awake so I could help her.
I’ll be right there. Text me the address.
Thank you! I’m at a bar called Roy’s at 2323 West 51st Street
I raised an eyebrow, that wasn’t the best part of town. No surprise her purse had been stolen. I headed for the bedroom and quietly opened the dresser, pulling on a pair of jeans and grabbing a jacket from the closet. I glanced over at Nicholas, deep asleep, and decided not to wake him. I would be out and home before he even realized I was gone.
I headed for the door and grabbed my purse. Down the elevator, I walked through the lobby and passed the front desk. The man seated there looked surprised.
“Headed out?” he asked.
“Just helping a friend,” I told him, continuing towards the doors. “I’ll be right back.”
I pushed through the front doors, out into the cool night air, and flagged down a taxi. A passing car slowed and stopped at the curb. I pulled the door open and slipped inside, giving the driver the address and we were on our way. We wound our way through the city, hitting all the green lights and speeding through the streets. When we arrived I handed him cash. I opened the door, then stopped myself. I handed him another twenty.
“I’m just going in to get my friend, if you don’t mind waiting we’ll both need a ride home.”
The driver turned in his seat and looked at me, then nodded. “Five minutes,” he told me.
I stepped out, holding my purse tight. I was uncomfortable in this area, but I knew Tabitha would do the same for me if the roles were reversed. Not that I’d come to a place like this willingly. There was a buzzing neon sign on the wall that said Roy’s, this was the place. I pulled the door open and headed inside. There were two burly men playing a game of darts and a bartender wiping the counter. They all turned and looked at me when I entered, I stood out like a sore thumb. I couldn’t see Tabitha. My heart began to race.
I’m here, where are you?
In the washroom by the back
I walked quickly towards the back of the bar, eager to get out of here. Tabitha was going to get an earful from me on the ride home for even coming to a rough dive bar like this, what was she thinking? Did she come here on a date? I passed a side door on my way to the washroom that spilled in sour air from the alley when I heard my name.
“Breanne?”
I turned my head and for a split second saw a figure in the shadows. I didn’t have time to register who it was or what was happening when a hand shot forward and a wet cloth was pressed against my face. I tried to scream but my voice was trapped in my throat, muffled by the fabric. I flailed my arms, kicking my feet and struggling to get away. Then, my body gave in and everything went dark.
15
I blinked, coming to, my head pounding and a sticky sick feeling in the back of my throat. I sat up, my hand to my face, and tried to get to my feet. Something held me back, and I reached down to discover there was a chain around my leg. My heart racing in panic, I followed the chain to a solid ring in the wall where it was attached. I shook it, pulling it with all my strength, desperate to free myself. It wouldn't budge. Whoever brought me here had made sure I wasn’t going anywhere. But where was I?
I looked around the space, I was on a bed in the corner. There was a couch facing a TV, a door open revealing a small washroom. There were no windows, no natural light, only walls. At the far end of the room there were stairs heading up to another floor.
Cautiously, I stood and moved from the bed. The chain gave me enough mobility to walk around the space, to reach the bottom of the stairs but I couldn’t go any further. I looked up at the door, fifteen steps away from me, a thin beam of light underneath.
“Hello?” I asked. There was no answer. “Is anyone there?” I asked. Silence. “Is anyone there?” I shouted, as loud as I could. Heavy footsteps overhead moved across the ceiling, then there was movement behind the door. A lock clicked, and the door swung open. A familiar face looked down at me, pausing on the landing before coming down with a tray. I stared in horror as he descended, step by step, until he was standing in front of me. Randy Wilkes.
“Nice to see you again Breanne,” he told me. “You must be hungry. I’ve brought you some food.”
I looked down at the tray, then to him, anger building inside me. Before I could stop myself I knocked over the tray, sending the water and plate crashing against the wall. Randy looked from the mess back to me, completely unphased. He shrugged.
“That was your lunch. Now you can wait until dinner.”
“What did you do to me? Where am I?” A terrifying thought crept into my mind. “What did you do to Tabitha?”
“Nothing, she’s not my type,” he replied. “I watched you, saw you two together at school. I followed her, stole her phone. It was too easy, women like you are so naive. Then I used it to get you somewhere alone, and took you.” He explained it calmly, without emotion. It sent a chill through me.
“Randy, you need to let me go. You need help. If you hurt me, they’ll put you in jail and you’ll never get out.”
“I was already trapped with no hope of getting out, until I took things into my own hands.”
“They’ll find you. They won’t stop looking for me. Nicholas won’t stop looking for me.”
“There’s no white knight coming for you Breanne. You’re mine now, and if you’re smart you’ll do exactly what I say.”
Randy walked to a dresser and took out clothes, a shirt and pair of shorts. He came back and held them out to me. “Here, put these on.”
I crossed my arms in front of me, refusing. I knew from his profile exactly where that would lead. He stared me down, I stared right back at him. “I’m not playing your game, Randy.”
“Oh Breanne,” he said, reaching forward to touch my hair. I flinched and pulled away from him. “We’ve already started to play. We started the second you walked into that room with Doctor Shaffer and interviewed me.”
“You won’t get what you want from me. I know how you work Randy. I won’t play along.”
His gaze grew cold. “You’ll break eventually. You all do. I can make things very uncomfortable for you if you don’t.”
“Why are you doing this? You wanted to convince everyone you were getting better, in a few years you could have been released. It was all an act, wasn’t it?”
“In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to hide who I am Breanne. We’re all separated into predators and prey. I have this hunger inside me, it consumes me. I need to hunt. I need to take what I want. It’s ridiculous, we admire these aggressive and dominant tendencies in some people but not others. The army. Police. Even businessmen, like your fiancée. They’re strong. They take charge.”
At the mention of Nicholas, my lip started to tremble and my eyes grew glassy. Randy noticed and smiled before I could stop myself from reacting.
“Does mentioning him upset you? If I were you Breanne, I’d just forget about him. We both know you’re never going to see him again. We both know how this ends. But for you, it doesn’t have to end the same way.”
“You’ll let me go?” I asked, cautiously.
He laughed. “No, we both know that would never happen. I’m not going to lie to you. But your life expectancy if you play your part and keep me happy will be a lot longer than it would be otherwise.”
“A life stuck here with you wouldn’t be worth living,” I said, venom in my voice. I rubbed my head, it was still painful and I was groggy. “What did you drug me with?”
“Chloroform,” he said matter of factly. “Does the job.” He thrust the clothes at me again. I took them in my hand then threw them at the wall, where they joined the tray and discarded food.
“No,” I told him. The tension in the air was thick and he bunched his fists at his side, I was
scared he was about to hit me, but he pushed past me and stomped up the stairs. He pulled open the door, the wood slamming against the wall, then yanked it shut. I heard a click as he locked it behind him. Alone again, I felt panic pressing in all around me. I screamed, but I knew no one would hear me. Randy was smarter than that. Wherever we were was hidden. Isolated.
I searched every inch of the room, turning over cushions on the couch and pulling open drawers. The only clothes were the same ones he wanted me to wear. The same ones he made his victims wear before he attacked them. I tried to find anything that could help me with the lock around my ankle, a bobby pin or a piece of wire. There was nothing that I could use in the room or the bathroom. I pulled at the chain again, feeling desperate, then I collapsed on the mattress.
This was all my fault. How could I be so stupid, to leave when I knew Randy was out there. When I knew there was the possibility, no matter how remote I thought it was, that my life was in danger. I pictured Nicholas, waking and finding me gone. Trying my phone but getting no answer. Checking with the doorman and realizing I went out last night, but didn’t return. Panic rising as he called Tabitha, called my parents, realizing no one had seen or heard from me. I wanted to reach for him, tell him where I was. I wanted him to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. Because I realized things weren’t okay. I was trapped who knows where with a madman that had no problem with hurting women.
I lay down on the comforter, pressing my face into the fabric. I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking slowly to try and comfort myself. To try and calm my racing heart. Then, I allowed myself to cry.
16
I woke up alone in the room, not sure how much time had passed in this place. Beside the bed was a sandwich and glass of water on a tray along with the folded clothes. I looked around, Randy wasn’t there. I stared at the food, my stomach rumbling. I didn’t know when the last time I ate was and I was famished. If I let myself starve to death that wouldn’t help my situation. I needed to keep my strength up and keep my mind sharp.
I picked up a sandwich half; the white bread was spongy between my fingers. I lifted it to look inside. There was sliced ham and a bright orange slice of processed cheese, a thin layer of margarine. I took a bite —it was chewy, bland and stuck to the roof of my mouth — but it was food. My throat was dry, making it difficult to swallow, so I took a drink of water. I forced myself to eat the entire sandwich while I reminded myself of what I’ve been through. I had been kidnapped by Randy Wilkes. He was a known criminal, he abducted and attacked women. I fit the profile of the women he abducted. He had a process, he kept them captive and made them change into a specific outfit. He drew an S on their wrist. All of this meant something, it was important to him. It was a ritual. If I didn’t follow that pattern, maybe I could also escape the same fate that the others had. I needed to use all of my training, I needed to be smart. That’s the only way I was going to survive.
I took another sip of water and brought the glass with me over to the couch. I sunk into the threadbare cushions, the springs creaking beneath me. I tried the TV, it sprang to life and an image popped onto the screen. There were only a few channels. I flipped until I found the news, wondering if the police were looking for me. I sat through the weather and two news stories before my picture was flashed on the screen. I recognized the image — it was a close-up that Nicholas had taken when we were walking through the park one day. I was looking straight into the camera, smiling. My eyes were bright and there was a slight blush on my cheeks. I looked happy. I wondered if I would ever feel the sun on my skin again, if I would ever smile again. If I would ever see Nicholas again.
I leaned forward to listen to the statement from the Police Chief. He reiterated that I had disappeared under suspicious circumstances. They had tracked my movements that night to Roy’s, the dive bar, where the bartender remembered seeing me come in but then didn’t see me again. I had simply vanished. The Chief said they were following up on leads, but if he had any he didn’t mention them on camera.
The scene switched and I felt my heart break. Nicholas was standing in a suit in front of a row of eager microphones. He said he would exhaust every resource to find me, and that anyone with information should call a tip line that had been set up. There was a substantial reward for any information that led to me. He urged whoever had me to let me go, unharmed, no questions asked. He looked straight into the camera.
“Breanne, if there is any chance you’re seeing this, any chance that you’re hearing my voice right now, I will find you. I won’t stop until I find you. I love you.”
I felt tears spill over my cheeks and I pressed my hand against the screen, spanning the distance between us. I wanted to reach into the TV and touch him, to let him know that I was here. His image was snatched away from me as the news returned to the anchor.
“That’s touching,” came a voice behind me. I jumped, whipping my head to see Randy standing behind me, mocking me with his stare. I quickly wiped my cheeks, I didn’t want him to see me vulnerable. I knew what vulnerable women did to him. I knew his profile, I reminded myself. I had studied him. Now I needed to put that knowledge to good use.
“All of this is important to you, Randy,” I told him, standing and gesturing around the room. “The women you take, the clothes. Who are we supposed to be? Who is Sarah?”
He stiffened. “Why does it matter?”
“I’m curious. I want to know why you chose them, why you chose me.”
Randy narrowed his eyes at me, a piece of dark hair tumbling over his forehead. “Can’t a man have a type?”
“It’s more than that for you, isn’t it Randy? You’re acting something out. Maybe if you tell me, if it makes sense to me, it will help me be less afraid.”
He hesitated, then sat on the couch. He patted the cushion, gesturing for me to sit beside him. The thought of being close to him made my skin crawl but I kept my composure and sat beside him. The rickety wooden couch bowed under our combined weight.
“You really want to know?” he asked. I nodded. “You know, I’ve never told anyone this. Having this knowledge would make you special, you understand?”
“I’d be grateful that you shared it with me.”
“Sarah. You caught on to this before, but her name is Sarah.”
“Who is she to you?” I asked.
“She was my babysitter. I was young, but I knew something was building in me. I was obsessed with her. I wanted her, she was the first woman I ever wanted.”
“Did you…” my voice trailed off.
Randy laughed. “No, never. I never touched her. I didn’t want to ruin her, she was special to me. Precious. Sarah told me stories, we would curl up together on the couch and she let me draw on her arm. She caught me hurting a girl in the neighborhood one night, stopped me from hurting her worse. I went into a juvenile centre, she was the only one to visit me. My own parents gave up on me, but never Sarah.” The fact that he started hurting women at such a young age was troubling, I pressed my hands flat at my side to stop them from trembling.
“What did she look like?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Randy turned his head, looked me up and down. His eyes trailing over my body.
“Tall, blonde hair. Blue eyes. Lovely figure. She looked like you.”
“I don’t understand,” I asked. “If you would never hurt Sarah, why do you hurt the women who look like her?”
“Because I want her, I’ve always wanted her. I could never hurt her, but the others, I knew they weren’t Sarah. It’s my way of getting what I desire without harming the woman who is so special to me. You’re all just copies. Fakes. You don’t matter.”
I tried to remain calm. “But I’m not like the others, am I, Randy. You told me this, gave me information no one else has. You let me see a different side of you.”
“It doesn’t matter what you know,” he answered. “You’re never leaving here.”
“What if you could care for someone other than Sarah,” I t
ried. “I’m different. I think you know that, that’s why you risked staying in the state to find me. You couldn’t just leave me behind. What if I could be like Sarah was to you, if I could make you feel safe and happy like she did when you were younger.”
He regarded me suspiciously. “How would you do that?”
“By getting to know you,” I told him. “I want to hear about your life, I want to know who you are as a person. Not the dark side of you, the human side that I know is in there, Randy.”
He glanced from me to the clothes he had left out. “You would need to do it as Sarah, dressed as Sarah,” he told me.
I held my breath. I needed to tread very carefully now. I needed to stick to the plan. “I can do that, but would you do something for me? I’ve been in these clothes, I would appreciate a bath. Can I take a bath, Randy?”
He nodded, slowly. “Then you’ll get dressed in the clothes I want?”
“I will,” I assured him.
Randy took a key from his pocket, hesitated, then unlocked the shackle around my ankle. He watched me closely as I rubbed at the skin where the metal had chaffed me. “Thank you,” I told him. While he watched me, his body tense and guarded, I headed for the washroom. “Could you help me?” I asked. “I can never get the temperature right when it’s not my tub.”
He was all coiled and stiff, watching me, as he walked into the bathroom. I sat down on the edge of the tub and he seemed to calm down. I stayed perfectly still as he fiddled with the knobs, then noticed the stopper was missing. He scanned around the tub, looking for it, and that was my chance. With his guard down I bolted to the door and slammed it shut, jamming the frame with a tall iron lamp under the handle anchoring it against the carpet. Immediately his shoulder banged against the door, but I was already sprinting up the stairs.
“Breanne!” his voice bellowed after me. I didn’t stop, I pulled open the door at the top of the stairs that was unlocked and tried to get a bearing on my surroundings. I was in a kitchen, off to the left was a door. I opened it and was on a porch. There was a heavy crash in the background — I didn’t think — I ran as fast as I could into the woods. The trees were thick and rocks and pine needles cut into my bare feet. I kept running for my life. Behind me I heard him bellowing.
