Held & Pushed (2 book bundle) (16 page)

Chapter
24

I watched
as Ron straddled Crystal’s chest. I saw her struggling to get away from him,
and was saddened to know that she couldn’t. With Ron blocking my view, I
couldn’t really see what he was doing, but I knew. And if I hadn’t known, her
screams would’ve told me.

I cried
silently, sitting in the chair, hands cuffed around the beam behind me. I hated
him. I hated being here. I hated having to witness the horrible things he did
to these women. I hated knowing that this one was pregnant. This one, he
should’ve left alone. But he didn’t.
Because he was a
freaking psycho.

When the
screams suddenly stopped, I held my breath. Had she died? Had he killed her?
Was that what he was doing to her, slitting her throat?

But then
he laid a piece of meat on the floor beside him. It was bloody, but I could
clearly make out what was on it.
A paw print.

He looked
over his shoulder at me. “It isn’t fun if she isn’t awake.” He laughed, and
then he got up and ran upstairs. When he returned, he went by me so fast I
couldn’t see what he was holding. But when he used it, I knew.

The
screams coming from Crystal now made all the ones before it sound like
whispers. Her high-pitched screaming hurt my ears. But it was nothing compared
to the pain she was feeling as Ron stood over her, pouring salt into the hole in
her skin where her tattoo had been.

“There we
go,” he said, sitting the salt on the floor and kneeling. “It’s much better
when you’re awake.”

Her
screams were so
loud,
I could barely hear him speak.
And they continued for quite some time. I had no doubt that the salt was
painful, but I had apparently underestimated how painful it was.

Ron grew
annoyed by her constant screaming. He began to pace beside her, shooting her
hateful glances from time to time.

Finally,
he said to me, “I can see we’re going to have to finish this later. Let’s go
upstairs for now.”

As he led
me up the stairs, I couldn’t help but think of the way he’d said we would
finish this later. I hated that he thought of me as part of his sick world. I
didn’t want to be a part of anything of his. I wanted to be home with my
husband and son. I wanted to be in a world where Ron and others like him didn’t
exist.

We had
lunch as we normally did. He’d made tuna salad sandwiches. If he ever
considered giving up his career as a psychopath, he could easily become a chef.
Even the simplest things he made were absolutely delicious (as long as there
wasn’t a rotting finger involved). Or maybe I just thought they were so good because
I never knew which meal would be my last. Either way, I ate two sandwiches.

When we
were finished, he said, “I’m going to do things a bit different today. I hope
you don’t mind.”

“What do
you mean?”

As he
cleared away our plates, he said, “Normally, I work on my novel after I’ve put
you to bed at night and before I wake you in the morning. But Crystal has given
me so much to write, I need to get it down while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

“Okay,” I
said, unsure of how this was going to affect me.

“I’m
wondering if I should gag you. I mean, if someone was to ring the doorbell, and
you were to scream, things would get bad, wouldn’t they?” He looked at me and
considered whether I was trustworthy.

“I
wouldn’t scream, Ron.”

After a
moment of intense scrutiny, he said, “You probably wouldn’t. But just in case,
I’m going to leave the door to my bedroom open. If I hear anything from you
that constitutes trying to gain attention from anyone other than myself, I’ll
cause a great deal of damage to our young friend in the basement. Do you
understand?”

I nodded.
It pissed me off that he always threatened me with harm to others.

“Very well.
If
you need me, you may loudly say my name. I should easily hear you.” He kissed
my forehead and left me sitting at the table while he retreated to his bedroom.

For the
first few minutes, I tried to pull myself free from the handcuff.

For the
next few minutes, I tried to pull the metal hook out of the underside of the
table.

For the
few minutes after that, I rested, having used up a lot of strength with all the
pulling and tugging.

Then, I
decided to do whatever exercises I could with one hand shackled so low. In my
time with Ron, I’d noticed changes in my body. A weakening of muscles,
especially in my right arm because it was always handcuffed to something. My
legs were weaker too. There was going to come a time when I’d need to fight Ron
or run away, and this was no shape in which to do either.

I stood
and did some stretches. My muscles were weak from lack of use, and they were
stiff. I knew I’d be sore tomorrow, so I tried not to push myself too hard. I
didn’t want Ron to know I was doing any exercises. I didn’t know if it would
make him angry, but there was no sense in poking the bear.

After managing
to do some push-ups with my hands on the seat of the chair, I quietly slid the
chair out of the way and
laid
on the floor. With my
right hand shackled to the table and held up above me, I managed to do several
sit-ups. Exercising made me feel better. It made me feel stronger and more in
control.

When I’d
finished exercising for the day, I sat in the chair.

I was thirsty
now. When my breathing had returned to normal and I didn’t think Ron could
notice anything different, I called out to him. He didn’t come the first time.
Or the second time.
On the third time, he came.

“What is
it?”

“I’m very
thirsty. Could you please get me a glass of ice water?”

“Sure.” He
poured me a glass and brought it to me. “It would be nice if I didn’t have to
restrain you, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could live here
without me worrying you would try to get away?”

“Yes,
Ron.” It would be. Because then he could remove the handcuffs, go to his room,
and I could get the hell out of here.

“Well, if
that’s all, I guess I’ll get back to work. Call if you need anything else.”
Another kiss on the forehead, and he was gone.

Had he not
been a psychopath, he would’ve surely made some lucky gal a great husband. If
you left out the sadistic serial killer part of him, he was a great guy. He was
clean and orderly. He was kind. He catered to the woman he loved. He was a
great cook. He had high hopes for his career. He didn’t plop down in front of
the television for hours at a time. He enjoyed playing games and great
conversation. His sexual stamina was impressive. And he was a handsome man.
It’s just that pesky habit of his where he raped, tortured, killed, and
dismembered
women that was
a turn off.

I sat
there for what felt like hours more, thinking, but trying not to.

It angered
me that there were no clocks visible to me. The microwave was digital and had a
clock, but it was always flashing twelve o’clock. The stove didn’t have a
clock. None hung on the walls, and Ron didn’t wear a watch. I had no idea how
he ever knew what time it was.

So I never
knew the time, I never knew what day it was or what week it was or even what
month it was. All I had to go on were my periods, which thankfully, came like
clockwork. So I knew that I’d had three periods here so far. So I’d been here
about four months. Damn. That was way too long. Of course, four minutes
would’ve been too long also.

Even though
I needed to pee, I didn’t call for Ron. The more he wrote on that stupid book,
the quicker this nightmare would end. Or so I hoped.

Chapter
25

The next
few days went the same way. We ate breakfast, he ran down and offered Crystal a
fresh bowl of dog food, which he complained about her refusing to eat, and then
he went to his bedroom to write while I secretly exercised at the table. I
would yell to him when I got hungry and he would come and make us lunch, after
which he returned to his room. The same thing happened for supper. I was
hungry. I yelled for him. He made us dinner. Then, he retreated back to his
room. We didn’t even have drinks or play cards.
Which was
fine by me.

Except
after a few days of that, I grew extremely bored. Just sitting at the kitchen
table all day was mind-numbing. I hated it.

During
dinner one night, I begged him for something to do while I sat at the table.

“Like
what?”

“I don’t
know. Crossword puzzles, real puzzles, word searches, magazines, books,
anything really.
Just something to do other than sit here and
stare at the floor.”

“You could
always try staring at the wall.”

I looked
at him and he laughed, clearly trying to be funny.

“You’re
hilarious,” I said dryly.

“Come on,
Nicole. Don’t be so serious all the time. I’ll see that you have something with
which to occupy yourself tomorrow.”

“Can I
read your book?”

“I told
you, not until it’s finished.”

“Not that
one.
The other one.
The one you said bombed.”

“I never
said it bombed. Bombed is such a negative word. Why would want to read that
one?”

I
shrugged. “I don’t know.
Just to get a sense of your style.”
I was curious. I wanted a closer look to how his mind worked.

“I’ll
think about it.”

I dropped
the subject for the rest of the evening. I guess he felt bad for me because he
actually stayed and played cards with me that evening after dinner. As much as
I hated to admit it, it was better than nothing. I never would’ve thought that
I’d find myself preferring the company of the sadistic over loneliness.

That
night, as he shackled me to the headboard and hovered over my body, he smiled.

“Do you
still want me?” he asked.

What the
hell was I supposed to say to that? No, I did not want him to do anything
except drop dead. But I couldn’t tell him that.

I slowly
nodded.

He kissed
my neck gently while he caressed my breast with his hand. His light kisses on
my neck gave me gooseflesh, which made my nipples hard under Ron’s hand, which
made Ron think I was enjoying his touch. It wasn’t true, but that’s what he
thought.

 
“Oh, Nicole,” he whispered breathlessly. “You
really do want me.”

Damn the
goose bumps.

He got up
on the bed on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the
floor. He reached back and took his shoes off one at a time, each falling to
the floor with a thump. As he reached for and unfastened his slacks, I tried to
prepare myself for what was about to happen. As he slid himself out of his
pants, I figured myself lucky to have gone so long without this happening
already.

My only
hope was it wouldn’t hurt too much. But even if hurt a lot, I would still be
better off than Stephanie, Melinda, and Crystal. And it was better to have this
happen here, upstairs in a real bedroom, than in the torture chamber downstairs
on the cold concrete floor.

Positioning
himself between my legs, he lowered his body onto mine.

I tried to
relax, telling myself that if I were tense, it would be more painful. But how
could you relax while something like this was happening?

As he
entered me, I was surprised. In fact, I gasped. Ron thought it was a gasp of
pleasure, but it was surprise. I’d expected him to be rough, but he was gentle.
He had never been gentle with the other girls, at least not that I saw. I had
every reason to expect him to be forceful and fierce with me, but he wasn’t. I’d
been expecting a brutal rape like those that I’d witnessed downstairs, but
instead, this was more like...well, more like lovemaking. In his mind, that’s
what it was. He was making love to me. But in my mind, it was still rape.

As he
rocked my body, the images of him with the other girls flashed through my mind.
The choking, the yelling out my name, the way he’d rammed himself against Stephanie’s
dead body. All of it entered my mind. I tried to push the thoughts away, and
find a happy place.

I imagined
myself on the beach. I felt the sand squishing between my toes. I could feel the
water hitting my ankles. I could hear the sound of the waves and the seagulls. I
could feel the warm sun beating down on me.

Before I
knew it, it was over. He kissed me all over my face and left the room.

I lay
there, feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from my back. The thing
I’d been dreading had finally happened, and it hadn’t been so bad. And he was
halfway through writing the book, which meant he was closer to possibly letting
me go. Things were really starting to look up for me.

But of
course, what goes up must come down.