Scream

Scream as loud as you wish no one will hear you, honestly my sweet we are so far from anyone. This place is not even on the map. She sunk back onto the bed, the light that had once burned so brightly in her eyes dimmed the dullness making her head ache.

“I’m going to get you some food you need to eat” his tone was soft but had an edge of authority much as if he was scolding a naughty toddler.
“I’m not hungry, I want to go home,” she pleaded. She hated the whining pitch in her voice. She was not accustomed to pleading; she spent her life getting her own way

“You are staying with me now, do you understand, this is your home, I’ll make you very happy I promise.” The finality in his voice made her visibly wince. His hand connected firmly to the side of her head. The pain was intense and it made her feel sick. She began to cry and as he put his arm around her shoulder, she stopped her body from tensing.

When he left the room she listened as he pulled the bolts across, she counted one, two, three, then as he climbed the steps at least she thought it was steps, it sounded as though he was going upwards but she could not be sure.

He had attempted to make the room comfortable, the single bed had a pretty quilt on it along with pillows and scatter cushions. The cabinet by the bed held an assortment of magazines. There was a wardrobe with a few items of clothing in it. She had no idea whose clothes they were before but he had told her they were now hers.
“Thanks” she thought “not only has the fucking psycho kidnapped me but I have to wear someone’s tatty hand me downs” and for some reason this seemed to upset her more. She sat on the edge of the bed and sobbed until the tears held back in protest.

He decided he would make her bacon and eggs, with a side of toast. She was a little skinny and he preferred his women a bit meatier. He looked around the kitchen; it had all she would need when the time was right to let her up here. He had purchased a new kettle and toaster and laid a clean white cloth on the table. Although the kitchen small and in need of new units it was clean and functional.

He walked through to the lounge and looked about the room.
“Sofa, check, chair for me, check, coffee table, check, TV, check” he smiled contentedly, a warm feeling of satisfaction. “Oh of course silly me books, check.” He laughed, chastising himself for forgetting something. He picked up one of the books and sat on the sofa. As he thumbed through the pages of the trashy romance / soft porn novel, he felt incredibly pleased with himself.
“She is going to love it here I can feel it in my bones”

There wasn’t a window just a slit at the top of the wall that let a miniscule amount of light in to the room. She stretched on tiptoe to see if she could see out. All she could see was earth and a small amount of ground, but nothing else.
“He’s right who would hear me; I’m stuck underground in this fucking prison.”
She sank back down and sat on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chin. She was tired of crying, but the tears still came.


He prepared the tray laying the food on it along with a single flower in a vase. He carefully made his way down to the basement. He unlocked the door telling her to stand well back. She stood away from the door hating herself for being a coward.
She took the tray and sat on the bed.
“I’m going to leave you to eat, I’ll be back in a while, and I hope you enjoy the food.”
She almost put her hand in her pocket to find some money so she could tip him, and then had to fight the urge not to giggle.

She looked at the food in disgust. This was everything she hated. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine it was fruit and yoghurt.
“Come on girl fantasise, you do it all the time with Jack.”
She ate the overcooked bacon and the undercooked eggs trying not to gag. She chewed for what felt like hours, until she finally cleared the plate.
Yum” she mocked to herself. “Better let the chefs at the Ritz know they’ve got competition.” This time she laughed aloud, stopping herself as he came back in through the door.

“ Good, good I see you’ve finished I bet your feeling better now.” he took the tray smiling “Well if you consider feeling sick to my stomach better then yes I am” she thought to herself.
She attempted a smile that barely reached her eyes, but that seemed to satisfy him.
“If you behave yourself you can come out tomorrow”
“Can I speak to my family please?” she’s begging now, but she’s beyond caring. She wants to go home.
“No I am your family now I thought I had made that clear” this angered him to such an extent before he knew it he was lashing out at her.
“No your not, I want to go home. You can’t keep me here, let me go you fucking psychopath,” she screamed at him grabbing at his shirt. He pulled away, seizing her by the throat.

“You bitches are all the same, never grateful. I give you all this” he swept his hand around the room “and you shove it back in my face”.
She can feel his hand around her throat getting tighter and tighter, her eyes begin to bulge. That is when self-preservation set in. She puts her hand out and feels for something, anything. Then she finds it, the tray. He is oblivious, his eyes are blank, and he is muttering something about women and bitches
She pulls the tray up and brings it down on his head, his grip suddenly loosens, and he falls in a heap on top of her. She struggles from underneath him, pushing him to the side.

She looks at him realising probably for the first time that he will not stop. He will come for her again. She has to end it here and now. She picks the tray up and brings it down repeatedly. She scarcely notices the blood after the fourth or fifth time.
She sits on the floor next to his lifeless body and murmurs
“Scream as loud as you wish no one will hear you.”