The Keeper

by Diane Saxon

  ‘It’s time for you to sleep again. Sleep heals.’ His tight smile brooked no argument.

  ‘Thank you.’

  A glimmer of pleasure skittered over his face, satisfaction, it appeared, at her submissiveness.

  ‘My feet…’ she needed to swallow before she could continue, but he brought his head in closer to listen. Aware of the greasy smell of his unwashed hair, Fliss gulped once more before she forced the words from her lips. ‘My feet are still really cold.’

  He tightened his lips as he straightened away from her, laid her head back down on the chilly pillow. Much as she wanted him to leave, she also needed his help if she was to survive, and if he left again for several hours without seeing to her needs, she may be dead by the time he came back.

  She mustered up a smile of her own, trying to make it genuine, while his hard gaze wandered over her face.

  He gave a swift nod and then disappeared. The snap of the door let her know he’d left the room and relief flooded through her as the warmth of the soup spread from her stomach outwards. She tucked her face into the thick downiness of the duvet he’d thrown on her, wrinkled her nose at the faint scent of mildew. It didn’t matter, the stench of her own urine still permeated through the mattress. Perhaps she would survive, if only she could get warm enough, if she could wriggle under the quilt and keep herself covered. Only her handcuffed arm remained outside and the cold of the metal against her skin served to remind her she was captive.

  Torchlight flooded the room again and she peered from beneath the covers to watch him change the light bulb in the low ceiling. As he flicked on the light, the bare bulb illuminated to chase the shadows away. Silent still, he disappeared, then returned with a sharp metallic rattle and bump.

  ‘I hope you appreciate this, young lady, because I’m only doing it out of the kindness of my heart.’

  Sickened by him, she still managed a quick nod and a faint smile in case he took away the mobile radiator he’d hauled in behind him. Grateful for it, she mumbled through her still chattering teeth. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re a polite young lady.’ He straightened from plugging in the heater, stared down at her, his brows pulled low. ‘Not like your sister. She’s terse. Very terse.’

  Fliss’s heart stumbled in her chest, but she lay immobile, determined not to react to the man. He knew her sister. There was nothing about him she found familiar. Nothing she could recall about him jogged her memory. He wasn’t a police officer, that was for sure, but perhaps Jenna had arrested him.

  Fliss almost jerked upright as the thought zapped through her dull brain. Of course. It had to be someone Jenna had arrested. Who the hell else could it be?

  She forced her muscles to relax, watched him potter around the room. Her stomach clenched as he snapped on acrylic gloves, a vague recollection of him doing this previously circling in her drug-dulled mind, just out of reach so she couldn’t quite grasp it. Earlier, when he’d shoved a needle in her, maybe when she passed out.

  As he approached, his smile turned saccharine. ‘You’re very lucky. I kept these from when Mother needed them.’ He raised a pair of incontinence pants and placed them on the side of the bed.

  He slipped a pair of scissors from the same pocket, cut off the incontinence pants she already wore, ones he must have put on her while she was unconscious, and slid the bloodied, soiled ones off her. His face crumpled with disgust as he dropped them into a plastic bag. The touch of her own cold, wet pee sent a shudder of revulsion through her as her naked backside settled onto the urine-soaked mattress, filling her nose with the acrid smell of ammonia and mould.

  She screwed her eyes closed and tried not to cry out as he tugged a fresh pair of incontinence pants up her legs. Beyond humiliation, Fliss raised her hips to allow him to pull them into place.

  She peered at him through narrowed eyes, compelled to observe his obvious distaste in her bodily functions. Not a young man, possibly in his mid to late fifties. Older than she’d thought at first. His upper body strength was huge as she knew from the way he’d carried her along the trail, but she was fairly light, and he’d run out of steam. After the first time he put her down, he’d barely been able to haul her into the boot of his car. She couldn’t remember how he’d got her into his cellar. She’d been out cold by then.

  She avoided any eye contact with him as she watched him wheeze again, the effort of changing her pants taking its toll. When he finished, he threw the thin blanket over her near nakedness and dumped the duvet on top. Her teeth rattled as she shivered, scared to move in case he saw it as a criticism.

  A T-shirt and a pair of incontinence pants was not nearly enough to keep out the cold air that sneaked in around the edges of the single duvet, but at least the incontinence pad formed a barrier between her skin and the wet patch on the mattress.

  Interested in his movements, Fliss observed him as he moved away to the other side of the small cellar. Exact, neat, leaving everything in its place with precision.

  He disappeared again, and when he returned this time, he had more food. Her mouth watered at the enticing, spicy aroma. Her stomach growled in anticipation.

  He slumped into the chair next to her, shovelled a forkful of food into his mouth and spoke around it. Little bits of rice splattered over her, while she recoiled into the covers, desperate not to let him see her revulsion.

  ‘I let my dinner get cold because of you.’ Dark accusation glared from angry eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She’d learnt well how to say that phrase when she’d lived with her boyfriend. It had taken her far too long, and too many fallings out with Jenna, before she realised how cowed she’d become by a man who had professed to love her, but in the end had demonstrated nothing but sneering contempt.

  This man didn’t love her either. He was probably about to kill her, and her words of apology were well thought out, contrived to earn his kindness and a little bit of time.

  He filled his mouth several times more, chewing each mouthful thoroughly before he swallowed, but he nodded his head to acknowledge her words.

  Fliss’s stomach rumbled again while he devoured his food. A takeaway. The pungent aroma of Indian food filled her nostrils and cramped her stomach, the soup barely lining the vast emptiness there.

  The fork clattered as the man got to his feet and shoved the bowl onto the chair he’d been sitting on. He swiped his forearm across his mouth before he patted his pockets and pulled out a packet of chewing gum. He inspected it for a long moment before he placed it back in his pocket without opening it.

  ‘It’s time for bed.’

  Fear gripped her as he swept his gaze over her and the distinct feeling he meant to get into bed with her tore through her. If he decided to rape her, she was powerless. Up until that point, the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Nothing he’d done had made her believe he was about to rape her. Kill her, yes, but rape had not entered her mind, but a flicker of something dark entered his expression as he contemplated her.

  She held in the desperate whimper while his black glare centred on her face.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  The light blinked out and he was gone. Her limbs turned to water and she let out the quiet sob she’d held back. The cuffs rattled as she tried to curl into a tighter ball, warmth at last reaching her lower limbs.

  He’d dragged the heater close to the side of the bed and Fliss risked one foot out of the covers to grope around in the dark and touch the radiator. Despite its size, heat pulsed from it, too hot to rest her foot against, but the thought of it there, keeping the worst of the iciness from the room, filled her with a sense of comfort. A comfort she knew she shouldn’t feel while she was held captive, but at least she hadn’t been raped and at least she wasn’t going to die. Tonight.

  The savoury smell of the man’s leftovers reached out with tempting persistence and wouldn’t let her settle. Although she had become accustomed to the dark, she still couldn’t see anything at all, but she stretched h
er shackled hand out and touched the arm of the small wooden chair he’d been sitting on. With small tugging movements, she brought it closer to the bedside, careful not to make too much noise as it scraped inch by inch across the stone floor until she wedged it right up against the bed.

  Hand shaking, Fliss crawled the fingers of her tethered hand along the seat as far as they could go. Relief swept over her as they encountered the bowl and she dragged it closer. After she tried to reach out with her plastered arm, only to find it uncooperative, she gave up. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned down, the chain gave a protesting rattle, but she twisted her arm, so she could get closer to the bowl.

  Wary in case she tipped it over the edge of the chair, Fliss used the end of her nose to locate it. Pain seared between her eyes as she encountered the rim far sooner than she’d imagined. The nose she suspected broken definitely had to be. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she paused, allowing the initial agony to disperse to a dull, throbbing ache.

  Face inside the bowl, she tried again. With cautious movements, she stuck her tongue out and licked at the food. In ecstasy, she closed her eyes and dabbed her tongue against the korma coated rice, swallowing with ease until she encountered a piece of chicken she managed to push around the inside of the bowl until she could pin it against the side and grasp it with her teeth. She ignored the spike of pain shooting through her face for the sheer pleasure of the food.

  Slow and restrained, she picked at it. Determined to ignore the ache from her damaged nose, Fliss chased the fork out of her way with the side of her face as she managed to get every last morsel she could from the bowl. She had no idea when her next opportunity to eat would come along. She needed energy to get out of the cellar. She was damned if she was going to die there, cold, hungry and alone.

  Exhausted, she slipped back under the duvet, swiping her face against the covers to remove the stickiness from her mouth and cheeks. She jiggled until she had the quilt pulled over her and she could once again curl up and savour the warmth and the pleasure of a full belly.

  She fluttered her eyes closed. Jenna wasn’t coming for her this time. She had no one to save her but herself. So, tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d have the strength to think of escape.

  23

  Monday 29 October, 06:15 hrs

  ‘You little bitch!’

  Agony tore through her as he yanked her hair from her head and brought her crashing out of the weird dream she’d been floating in. A pained yowl shot from her mouth until the man cracked the back of his hand over it and made her swallow the blood that spurted from the split lip he’d caused.

  ‘Bitch!’ He hauled her around, jerked her from the bed, her legs tangled in the thick covers, so she stumbled. Her knee smashed onto the cold, stone floor, sending shooting pains up her thigh. The scream of protest paralysed her throat in fear of further retribution.

  He was mad. Totally off his freaking head barmy.

  ‘You stole my food. You greedy cow.’

  Comprehension ran through her as her gaze darted to the empty bowl, the stickiness of the korma sauce still crackled around her swollen mouth. Who would have thought he’d mind? She’d had no idea he’d even notice, but then, staring into the wild fury of his gaze, he could well have done it deliberately as a test.

  His hand tightened in her hair and he forced her head further down, so she had no alternative but to stare at the empty dish. He wrenched her head lower still and she shot out her injured arm to save herself, only to let out a squeal of anguish as her fingers bumped the slate tiles and fire shot up her arm whilst the wrist on her other hand was almost dragged out of its socket by the icy metal of the handcuffs.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Thieving bitch!’

  Tears filled her eyes as he forced her face into the bowl, pressed her nose against the base until pain powered through her head.

  ‘Don’t you ever,’ he growled in her ear, ‘ever, steal my food again.’ He twisted her head back, his black eyes blazed into hers. ‘Do you understand me? Do you, you fucking slag?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice shamed her with its high-pitched squeak, the pathetic mewl.

  Desperate to keep her balance, she shuffled on her knees, but the grip he had on her hair made it impossible to move. She closed her eyes and swallowed past the tenderness of her swollen throat.

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought you’d finished. I won’t do it again without asking.’

  As he relaxed his fingers from the fiery burn of her scalp, she opened her eyes again to stare into his taut features. The deep slashes bracketing his mouth smoothed out, his dark brows lifted, his tight lips relaxed. ‘If I had more time, I’d make sure you understood your lesson.’

  She tried to nod, but her scalp, so tender, halted any further movement in case he pulled at her hair again. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve learnt my lesson. I promise.’ He pressed his lips together in a straight line as if considering what she had to say. ‘I never understood the rules. I’m sorry.’

  A little smile accompanied the satisfied glint in his eye as he released her and came to his feet to tower above her.

  Unsure whether to move or not, she stayed where she was, head bowed.

  ‘Up you get, Felicity.’

  She stumbled to her feet, using the shackle on her arm to keep her balance in an effort not to put weight on her broken hand. Dizzy with relief, she managed to haul herself back onto the bed and waited, trying to gain her equilibrium while the man stared at her in silence. She kept her head down, unwilling to meet the fury flashing at her.

  She cleared her throat but waited for him to speak.

  The man adjusted his glasses. ‘I’ve a lot to do today. Clearing up. Preparing.’ She kept completely still, reluctant to let him see the relief glimmer in her eyes. ‘It means you’ll be alone most of the day and all of the night. It’ll give you time to think about your behaviour. I’ll not tolerate it, you know.’

  Optimism sprang in her heart. His threats didn’t matter. He was about to leave her again. This time she had far more energy and her mind was considerably clearer as the drug he’d administered wore off. If only she had the time to figure out how to escape, how to release herself from the handcuffs, while he was away. All night. She had all night. How was she to tell what was day and what was night though? If she escaped too soon, he’d catch her. He’d probably beat her to death, going from her previous experience with him, if he caught her in the act of escaping. She had to make sure she acted as soon as he left and not mistake the timing. She’d concentrate. Bide her time.

  She resisted the temptation to let out a gusty sigh and blew out slowly instead, anticipation almost getting the better of her. She was going to escape.

  He placed his fingers under her chin and raised her head, so she had no option but to look at him. ‘I’ll change your nappy now.’

  Revulsion skittered through her veins. He was going to touch her. The feral gleam in his eyes sent shivers down her spine.

  ‘Lie down.’

  There was no resisting his command. His obvious enjoyment of what he was about to do to her cramped her stomach. She lay back on the bunk, squeezed her eyes closed tight until white sparks flashed in the blackness.

  Cool air wafted over her naked skin as he sliced the side of the pants and drew them away from her body. She automatically lifted her backside from the mattress to help him as he slid it from underneath her. She only hoped she wasn’t going to throw the contents of her stomach up all over him. She couldn’t imagine the retribution she’d suffer if she soiled his neatly pressed chequered navy shirt and spotted blue tie.

  Soft fingers smoothed over her flesh to send a flash of butterflies to dapple her skin. She squeezed her eyes tighter, the ball of nausea heating her stomach and threatening to explode through her mouth. She swallowed several times, aware of the removal of his hand. The crackle of the incontinence pad startled her out of her trance-like state, and she flashed open her eyes only to regret it as she met his manic
gaze.

  As he grinned, his yellow stained teeth flashed. ‘Oh, don’t get your hopes up, lady, I haven’t time for that right now.’

  He nudged at her bottom for her to lift it up again and slipped the incontinence pants over her hips. He stroked his fingers down her thighs, touching each of the bandages he’d applied the previous day, and making her skin skitter with fresh revulsion.

  ‘You’re still cold, I see. It’s probably shock from your nasty fall, and the break you’ve suffered, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ To her relief, he flipped the covers over her and tucked them in around her chest, leaving her arms uncovered. ‘Now I know you can cope, I’ll leave you some water. I brought you porridge, but I don’t think you need it since you ate all my dinner.’

  The desire to plead with him rose, but she tamped it down, knowing he would only gain sadistic pleasure from withholding the food from her the more desperate she appeared.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she croaked out, ‘you could leave it for later. In case you’re needed at work for longer than you anticipate. Or when you leave for the night.’ Porridge was hardly going to sustain her for the rest of the day, but if she could eat it once he left, then make her escape, at least she’d have food in her stomach to give her more energy. Anticipation had fired her up, and adrenaline would give her an extra boost once he left. She needed the opportunity to escape and he was about to give it to her.

  ‘You’re right. I’ll leave it here.’

  She turned her head as he placed the bowl of porridge and flask of water on the chair beside the empty bowl. He rubbed his hands on his black trousers in the first nervous gesture she’d witnessed before he picked up the empty bowl and left the room.

  Fliss stared at the flask with its plastic straw poking out of the top, neatly placed above and to the right of the porridge bowl, a silver spoon in perfect position between the bowl and the flask. He’d just given her the timeline she needed. Morning had come. He’d had his breakfast and given her some too. Which meant, if she could concentrate and keep a handle on the time, she’d be able to pinpoint exactly how much time she had once he left for the night.