Collecting Scars (18 page)

Did he know Xavier? Maybe she had been calling his name in her sleep? Then again, he had stalked her all those weeks, he probably knew a lot about her. She forced herself to raise her aching head and stared hard at the masked man. Who was he? Why was his voice familiar? Did she know this man? This evil monster. He moved closer to her, crawling across the floor until he was just out of arms reach. Asha had the urge to rip that mask off his face if only she could reach. What would he do when she saw his face? Would he kill her? If he was going to kill her anyway, maybe it would be better to just get it over and done with, sooner rather than later.

“Well guess what darlin'?” the monster drawled. “Your precious Xavier is not coming for you,” he laughed now, a bitter twisted laugh. “He doesn't even care about you. How do you like that?”

“Liar,” she snapped at him. “You don't know anything.”

“Oh it's true, you are just one of many Asha,” he reached out and ran a finger down the side of her face, just like Xavier had often done.

Her stomach rolled and bile rose in the back of her throat, causing it to burn. She wanted to spit it at him.

“One of manywhat would make you think you're so special to him anyway, huh?” He tilted his head to the side, taunting her. “You're nothing special Asha. You're not special to Xavier, not special to Patrick. Your mum doesn't even like you.”

His words were like a knife twisting in her heart. How did he know about her relationship with her mother? She barely spoke about it to anyone. Her thoughts turned to Patrick.

“Where's Patrick? Have you got my brother?” She yanked at her chain now, getting frantic, she had to protect her baby brother.

Again he laughed that horrible laugh. “What would I want with a loser like Patrick? Huh? He's a useless piece of shit.”

“He's my brother and he loves me,” she cried out, not being able to stop the tears that were running down her cheeks, she knew full well that he was begging for this kind of reaction but she couldn't help it. “Please...please don't hurt Patrick.”

“Ahh, so you care about Patrick, but not Xavier? Does that mean I can do what I want to him?”

“Fuck you,” she roared. How dare he do this to her.

“Oh my, my, what nasty words from our good little nursey. That’s not like you Asha. You're always so...” he tilted his head as if he was thinking, searching for the right word. “Professional.”

Asha struggled against her restraints. “Let me go, you bastard”

“Now what makes you think I would do that?”

She could think of a million reasons why he should, she hung her head and said nothing

“No, I don't think I will let you go. I'm going to keep you here, 'til I am ready for you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“You will see in due course.” He rose to his feet, patting her on her pounding head. “Sit now little Asha, don't go anywhere,” laughter erupted from his chest. “Oh that’s right, you can't.” He shook his head as if he thought his own joke was hilarious. As he reached the door he turned back to her, then pointed to the camera on the ceiling.

“Remember, I’m watching your every move.”

Then he was gone. Asha collapsed in tears. Would this ever come to an end?

Her stomach rumbled in hunger and her body shivered with cold. She lay chained to the bed unable to move anywhere. Was he right about Xavier? Was she really one of many? She had seen him with Emma at his work when she walked in on them in his office. He had explained it all away. Had she been such a fool that she didn't see he was playing her? She had so little experience with men, had she been that naive? She thought he was falling in love with her. She was falling in love with him too, but she had been far too stubborn to admit it. She had hurt him. She felt so bad, she hadn’t meant to hurt him. It was her that had the problem, she knew that. Scarred by losing her father at a tender age and seeing the way her mother had handled it.

So cold, so alone, her thoughts finally turned to her mother. She had been a cruel woman, sure her mum had loved her dad. She was the doting wife, Asha thought maybe a little over the top. Always making herself beautiful for when her husband got home. Making sure the house was spotless, meals cooked, waiting for him to walk in the door. Perhaps that was why she had lost the plot so much when he had died. It was as if overnight a light had flipped off in her mother's head. Had she been looking for love in the wrong places bringing man after man home?

She knew she had hurt her mum too, maybe she was a bad person. She had never meant to hurt her when she had an affair with James. She had been so young, so stupid and naïve. No wonder her mum had hated her. Now she might never have a chance to mend that relationship either. Patrick had been so desperate for her to go home and see her. That's what had started the fight with Xavier in the first place. James had been a huge mistake, one that had defined the rest of her life. He had used her, abused her innocence and caused her a life of self-doubt. Maybe she had missed out on her one chance at true love, due to her fear of being hurt. Now it was too late. How would people remember her? As the kind caring nurse that helped so many people? Or the stupid girl that had every opportunity spread out in front of her and she threw it all away. How she wished she could go back in time, to take back what she had done to Xavier, to tell him how sorry she was, but here she lay, chained to a bed, waiting for death to come for her.

The monster didn’t come back for a long time after that. He brought no food or water. There was no way of knowing how long she lay there as she drifted in and out of consciousness, chained to the bed.

Chapter 25

ASHA ALMOST FELT RELIEVED TO see him when he eventually came back, she was beginning to think he had left her there to die. Slowly she dragged her head up as he approached her, she felt so weak. He reached down over her, his mask firmly in place. To her surprise, he unlocked the chain where it attached to the bed.

“Come with me,” he wrenched her free arm, pulling her to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she winced with the pain of his big hand wrapped around her bicep. She did not want to go anywhere with him. She wanted to fight him, but what if he was letting her go?  It was unlikely but maybe on their way to where ever he was taking her, she might have a chance of escape. What if he was taking her somewhere to kill her? Her mind reeled with the possibilities of what was going to happen. Asha knew she had to take whatever chance she got. No one was coming for her, she would have to save herself.

“I wanted to trust you Asha,” he huffed out. “I've been good to you and look how you have repaid me.”

“How is keeping me prisoner being good to me? Asshole,” she spat out.

Whack...her cheek stung.

“You are a special kind of stupid aren’t you bitch?” he breathed, the smell of his whisky breath hitting her in the face. Her stomach rolled at the stench.

“I need you, you will do as I say. If you don't, I will fuckin' kill you,” he seethed.

Asha recoiled. He dragged her roughly toward the door and her hope sparked anew, that maybe he was going to release her. He said he needed her. What could he need her for? Her mind spun with so many possibilities, none of them good.

The door opened, but there was no light, it did not lead to the outside. She chanced a quick look around cataloguing everything she saw, in case she needed to know for later. A few shuffling steps and they both stood in front of another heavy grey steel door. He pulled keys from his pocket and shoved them into a deadbolt on this door, slid across a slide bolt and pushed the door open, harshly thrusting her through it.

Standing in this room, slightly larger the one she had been in, her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the instant bright fluorescent light. On the opposite wall was a door standing slightly ajar and she could see a toilet—a proper toilet. She would never have thought that having access to a real toilet would be such a luxury. To the right of the door, was a bed, much like the one she had spent her last nights, attempting to sleep. But there was something else, something that stopped her in her tracks, something she would never have expected to see.

On the bed lay a girl. She was emaciated, her blonde hair lay limp around her face. Her sunken eyes lay partially open, although did not seem to see anyone. Asha guessed she was early to mid-twenties, but it was hard to tell. Without conscious thought she moved toward the bed, her nursing instinct kicking in, she immediately wanted to help. The man in the mask let her go.

“You have to help her,” he pleaded.

It was the first time she had heard any compassion in his voice. Maybe he was not such a monster. Who was she kidding, he kidnapped her, obviously had this other girl imprisoned as well. Why was she always so quick to see the good in people? Sometimes, people are bad. Some people were purely evil.

Making a quick visual assessment of the girl could immediately tell she was in trouble.

“How long as she been like this for?” she questioned.

“Just fuckin' help her,” he shouted and the girl on the bed flinched.

“I need to know some history if you want me to help her,” Asha barked at him.

She felt the girl's pulse, it was rapid and irregular, her breathing shallow.

“She needs to go to the hospital.”

“No,” He yelled. “No hospitals, that’s why you're here, now fix her.”

“Seriously? Look at her...she is very unwell, she obviously has an infection, here, feel her forehead she is burning up.” She gestured for him to come closer to the girl.

The girl moaned.

“It's ok baby girl,” he cooed. “Help is here, we'll get you better soon.”

That voice, that soothing voice, Asha recognised that soothing voice, she was sure of it. It was reckless but she had to know, she was not restrained, so now was her chance, as the man leant over the girl in the bed she darted her hand out and grasped at the top of his face pulling with as much force as she could muster.

There was a roar and she was suddenly airborne, her back hit the wall with a thud and she was being pinned by his weight, his forearms against her collar bone. She looked up straight into the man's eyes. Piercing green eyes that burnt down into her soul.

“M...M...Mr Arnold?” she stammered

“I should fuckin' kill you right now. I have had enough of your bullshit. You are pushing me too far.”

Whack!

Pain exploded in her head, again and again, followed by a burning pain in her abdomen as he punched there as well. Stars swam before her eyes and the room went dark.

***

When Asha awoke she found she was restrained against the bed again. Her face ached and she could only open one eye. She had a vague recollection of him punching her there, it must be swollen. The worst of all, however, was the searing burning pain in her stomach. Lowering her eyes, she gasped to see her shirt, that days ago had been white was now a dark brownish-red. Dried blood, her dried blood. Slowly with her free hand, she lifted the bottom of her shirt to reveal a two centimetre cut to the left side of her navel. He had not punched her in the stomach, he had stabbed her. Mr Arnold. It was Mr Arnold and he had stabbed her. Her head reeled as realisation dawned on her.

A moan brought her back to her present place and she looked over to see the girl on the bed, struggling to roll onto her side. She mumbled something incoherent. No doubt her fever was making her delirious.

Across the room she saw a plastic box, it reminded her of the fishing tackle box her dad used to use. Her mind wandered back to the fishing trips they had gone on.

“I’m going to catch the biggest fish daddy.”

“And I'm going to let you Ashy-girl,” he would smile at her.

Patrick had her father's smile. He reminded her of her dad at times. She had never told him that. A sob escaped her lips. “Oh Patrick,” what if she never saw her baby brother again?

“No, he will not beat me. I've come this far,” she reminded herself.

In great pain, she slid on her bottom across the floor to reach the tackle box. Clutching her stomach as fresh blood seeped through her fingers. The chain attached to her wrist pulled and ripped at her tender flesh, she extended her foot and managed to snag the edge of the box and pull it closer. She just hoped it was worth the effort. Lifting the lid on the box, she was met with a plethora of first-aid supplies.

“Bingo.”

Inside the box were some vials of sterile water and some gauze, she fumbled one-handed but managed to get the water onto the gauze and lifted the edge of her shirt, holding it between her teeth. Gingerly she washed the blood away from the wound. It was a clean wound, that was a blessing at least. If it had hit any major organs, she knew she would be in a lot more trouble than she was now, so it seemed she was in luck. Looking through the box she found a good quality dressing that she recognised as one they used in the clinic.

Once she had herself patched up she turned her attention to the girl on the bed. Whatever was she going to do. This poor girl needed help. She needed a doctor, a hospital, and probably intravenous antibiotics. She fished through the box once more, turning up some paracetamol. That might at least help with her fever, but how would she get it into her?

The door rattled and heaved open. This time, when her captor entered the room, he did not bother with the mask. Asha already knew who it was so why would he need to?

“You're still alive then I see,” he sneered at her.

“Why are you doing this Mr Arnold? Why me?”

“You Asha,” he said with a smug laugh. “You because you're a nurse and you can help,” his face softened when he turned to the girl. “You, have to help her.”

“Is that Maddie?” she ventured, almost fearing the answer.

He glared at her, his non-answer told her everything she needed to know.

“I brought you a first aid kit,” he huffed kicking the box closer to her.

“I need some water for her...at least a cup”

Mr Arnold glared at her, then to the girl on the bed, scrubbing his chin with his hand.