Held & Pushed (2 book bundle) (24 page)

Four days?
That meant I’d been in the basement nine days total. Nine days without food.
Nine days with almost no water. Nine days.

As he
picked me up and carried me up the stairs, I caught a glimpse of my legs draped
across his arm. My skin was a pale shade of blue. I looked up at him. I wanted
to kill him. But more urgently, I wanted to eat. And drink. And sleep.

When Ron
stepped into the hallway, I expected the warmth of the house to rush over me,
but it didn’t. Or if it did, I couldn’t feel it. My skin was numb. He looked at
me lying in his arms and asked, “Do you need to use the restroom?”

Though it
took all my strength, I shook my head.

“Do you
want to shower?”

I tried to
shake my head again, but didn’t have the strength. I managed to whisper, “No.”
I guess he heard me. He carried me to my room. Before he could put me on the
bed and cover my bluish body, I’d closed my eyes and welcomed the relief that
came with the darkness.

Chapter
43

When I
woke, I wasn’t sure where I was. I didn’t recognize the room. It took a few
minutes for me to remember the situation I was in.

The sun shone
through the window and fell across the bed brightly. I lay there for a while,
unmoving. My stomach wasn’t really rumbling anymore. It was aching. All of my
insides ached. My mouth was so dry, I was sure that if I moved my tongue, it
would stick to the roof of my mouth.

Faintly, I
could hear Ron across the hall clicking away at the keys of his computer.

Deciding
to call to him, I tried to lick my lips, but it was no use. In fact, calling to
him was no use either. My tongue was dry as a bone and so was my throat. Maybe
that was why my voice refused to work. An ungreased wheel won’t roll.

It was too
much work, too much effort. I just couldn’t do it. I closed my eyes, exhausted.

The next
time I opened them, the room was orange with the angry glow of the setting sun.
I didn’t hear the clicking of the keys anymore. I wondered where Ron was. I
considered calling to him, but remembered my previous failed attempt and pushed
the thought away.

As I
closed my eyes, ready to give myself back to the peaceful sleep I longed for, I
heard Ron come into the room. Slowly, I opened my eyes again and looked to Ron,
who stood beside the bed looking at me.

“Finally.”
He sat
on the edge of the bed and reached out to the bedside table where a pitcher of
water set. He poured a glass.

He put one
hand behind my head and lifted it slightly off the pillow. He put the cup to my
lips. I tried to make my lips purse to the cup to drink, but they were dry and
stiff and refused to cooperate. So Ron slowly poured a little water into my
mouth through my slightly parted lips. The water was cold and marvelous. My
throat was too dry to swallow, so I opened my throat and let the water slide
down.

It hurt at
first, but felt good after that. I didn’t drink too much. I didn’t want to
vomit.

“I’ll be
right back,” said Ron after returning the glass of water to the bedside table.
He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a small bowl and a
spoon. He sat on the bed again and scraped the spoon through the bowl. He
brought it to my mouth. “It’s applesauce. It’ll be easy on your stomach and
won’t hurt to swallow.”

He was
right. It didn’t hurt to swallow, though the acid stung. I didn’t even care
about that. I just wanted more.

After
feeding me, Ron left and I slept. It was an uneasy sleep, though. I periodically
woke up, stomach racked with cramps.

Finally,
morning came and with it, Ron. He came in and gave me water, which I was able
to swallow. He fed me more applesauce, which I was also able to swallow. I was
happy to learn that I could lick my lips without breaking them, though my upper
lip did split in the middle the first time.

“Do you
feel better today?”

“Yes,” I
managed to say. My throat was sore, but at least it worked today.

“Good. You
had me worried.”

I wanted
to remind him that it was his fault. I didn’t have the energy to say it, and I
had the wisdom to know that it was a bad idea anyway.

As Ron got
up, claiming he had to get back to his book, I asked to use the bathroom.

“Sure,” he
said. He released me from the bed and had to help me stand. As much as I hated
it, I had to lean on him to walk to the bathroom. I’d never been so weak in all
my life.

When we
reached the bathroom, he opened the door and flipped on the light.

“Do you
need me to come in and help you?”

I
considered it. I probably did need his help. But I needed my dignity and pride
more.

“No. I’ll
steady myself against the counter.”

“Okay. If
you need me, call out. I’ll be right here.”

I walked
into the bathroom and Ron closed the door behind me. Wobbly, I sat on the
toilet. I closed my eyes as the dizziness came and went. Though I’d felt like I
had to pee a bucketful, barely anything came out. It was reassuring to know
that my plumbing still worked.

After
wiping and flushing, I made my way to the sink and washed my hands, taking care
with the forefinger of my left hand. I opened the drawer and picked up my
toothbrush and toothpaste. After squirting a glob of paste on the bristles, I
brought the brush to my mouth and looked in the mirror. I froze at the sight of
myself.

I knew I
looked terrible, but I wasn’t prepared to actually see myself in this
condition. Having seen the other girls in the basement, I had an idea of what
to expect. But to see it was a shock.

My hair
was greasy and dirty, hanging in stringy strands. My skin was pale and blotchy.
My lips were white and cracked. My eyes had large, dark circles around them.
Gone were my round cheeks, replaced by sharp cheekbones.

Bracing
myself for the worst, I let my eyes fall downward, taking in my still-naked
body.

My
collarbone was much more visible than it had been. In fact, all of my bones
were more prominent, stretching my skin tautly.

And then
there was the cut. Between my breasts was a large, rugged X cut into my flesh.
Worse than the cut was the large red area around it, a sure sign of
infection.
And if the angry red area surrounding the cut wasn’t enough
of a sign of infection, there was the pus. I brought my left hand up to touch
the wound, but noticed my finger.

Ron had
removed the piece of plastic from under than nail, but an infection had settled
in there too. And my nail had turned black.

I closed my
eyes and brushed my teeth.

Chapter
44

After
helping me back to bed, Ron left, getting back to his book. I slept, the trip
to the bathroom having drained me of my strength.

That’s how
the next couple days were spent. I ate and drank more each time, and soon began
going to the bathroom with frequency. Eventually, I conjured enough energy to
take a bath. I didn’t trust my legs to hold me for a shower. Besides, sitting
in the hot water helped shake off the chill I’d had since being in the
basement. I’d just started to think I’d be cold forever, but the bath helped bring
my body temperature back to normal and made me feel better.

A couple
of days later, I was tired of lying in bed. When Ron came in carrying a small
plate of scrambled eggs, I told him I wanted to eat them at the kitchen table.

He nodded
and helped me to the kitchen, where he cuffed me quickly to the table and set
my eggs in front of me along with a cold glass of milk.

After I’d
eaten the scrambled eggs and drank the milk, Ron washed the saucer and glass.
While he washed, he spoke.

“You’re
going to love this novel, Nicole.”

I doubted
it.

“It is a
beautiful work of art that I can’t wait for you to read. It will blow you
away.”

I didn’t
think so.

“I’m in
the editing stage right now. It won’t be long. By dinner this evening, it
should be finished. I’m sure you’ve been waiting to read it.”

I hadn’t.

“I’m sure
it makes you happy to know that all our hard work has finally paid off.”

It didn’t.

“Do you
think it’ll be good?” he asked, turning to me and dried his hands on a towel.

I
shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

He nodded.
He walked over to me, leaned down and kissed my forehead. He then leaned toward
my ear and whispered, “I’ll visit your room tonight to celebrate.” Then, he
walked down the hall to his room. Soon, I could hear the faint clicking of the
keys as he edited his magnificent book of horrors.

For a
while, I just sat there, happy to be out of bed but feeling sluggish. It was
similar to the feeling I always had the day after I had the flu. My muscles
were stiff and achy, and my head felt like it was floating away from my neck. I
seemed to be moving in slow motion. But at least I was out of the basement.
And alive.

A few days
ago, that was something I was sure I’d never be able to say.

But here I
was, cuffed to the table with a full albeit achy stomach, and I was alive. I
just might live to see my son again after all.

Chapter
45

I sat
there for a long time, thinking. When I grew tired of thinking about everything
except my time in the basement, I began to think of what had happened to me
while I was down there. I didn’t want to. But the memories kept pricking my
brain, fighting their way in.

To keep my
mind occupied, I decided to do a few puzzles. I looked around, but I didn’t see
either of my puzzle books.

I reluctantly
called out to Ron.

“What is
it, Nicole?” he asked as he came down the hallway.

“Could you
get me one of the puzzle books?”

“Sure,” he
said walking over to one of the drawers. He brought me both puzzle books and a
new crayon. “Is that all you need?”

“Yes.
Thank you.”

“Are you
okay in here or do you need to go back to bed?”

“No. I’m
fine.”

“Okay
then. I’ll be in my room putting the finishing touches on what can only be
described as a masterpiece. Call if you need me. Otherwise I’ll see you in
about an hour for lunch.”

Ron left
me sitting at the table doing puzzles. After three word searches, I put down
the crayon and rubbed my eyes.

More out of
habit than anything, I checked the cuff around my wrist. It was something I’d
been doing since the beginning of my captivity. I’d always felt that there
would come a day when he failed to tighten the cuff around my wrist, or a day
that my wrist would be small enough to slide out, or a day when both of those
things happened.

A day like today.

As I
pulled my wrist slowly through the cuff, not all the way—just enough to make
sure it would come out, I heard Ron clicking the keys on his keyboard, writing
of his sins.

My heart
pounded in my chest.

I stared
at the shiny silver cuff loosely wrapped around my right wrist. Glancing over
my shoulder to make sure that Ron was still in his room, I slowly and carefully
pulled my hand from the cuff.

Instead of
letting the cuff fall and risk it clanking and bringing Ron, I lowered it
carefully and made sure it wasn’t going to swing and hit anything. Then, I used
my left hand to cup my right wrist, rubbing it gently in disbelief. I couldn’t
believe it.

I stood,
careful to not make a sound, and walked lightly to the door that led from the
kitchen to the laundry room. I went through the laundry room and into the
garage. To my surprise, my car wasn’t there. I don’t know why, but I had
expected it to still be there, hidden from the world. As I walked through the empty
garage, I realized my car was probably at the bottom of the Mississippi River,
still hidden from the world. Or maybe the bastard had taken it back to the mall
to be found by the police, adding to the mystery of my disappearance by making
them wonder if I was really missing or had just left to start a new life.

My heart
was thumping so hard in my
chest,
it made my breathing
fast and raspy, as if I’d been running.

 
I stood at the garage door, hand prepared to
pull it open, but I hesitated. What if it made such a clatter that Ron came
running and grabbed me before I could get out? I considered going back through
the house and out the front door, but I was standing at a door, and that was an
opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I’d just have to be fast, which in my weakened
condition, was asking a lot of myself.

I braced
myself and pulled with all my strength as fast as I could, planning to get
through the door and out before Ron had a chance to hear.