Page 10 of Fallen to Thievery
I tried to turn my face away from him. Who the hell was this man? This arrogant bastard. And how dare he? My life wasmine. He had no right laying his filthy hands on me. Bright red rage licked at my cheeks. Trash men like him made my blood boil.
He chuckled. “There she is. I’m going to enjoy your… feistiness.”
I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he would like that. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked instead, pinning him with my stare.
He leaned in closer. “Whatever the hell I want.” His tone had an eery lightness that didn’t match his threat. He straightened and threw the first aid kit at me. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You stink. There’s the bathroom. When I get back, you better be clean.” His eyes roamed over my body once more before he reached for something in his back pocket.He pulled out the knife, letting it whip open, too close to my face, then lowered it and cut the zip-tie from my wrists before walking out the door.
My body collapsed. I slinked off the bed, curling myself into a ball on the floor. I was shaking violently, my vision going dark as I struggled to catch my breath. I needed to survive. I had to find a way to survive this.
I stayed like that for a while, letting the fear and shock rock through my body. Letting it cripple me. Mom always said to feel your feelings. If you don’t acknowledge them, they keep prowling. So, for a few minutes, they got to devour me.
After a while, the shaking subsided and a numbness took hold of me. I had to be ready for whatever was coming. I needed to be strong. I needed to endure. I had to keep my wits if I was going to make it out alive.
Should I get cleaned up like my captor demanded? No. It was best if he was disgusted by me, so he would leave me alone. It would break me if I had to bear another touch from him. Nausea made its way up my throat just thinking about it.
On the other hand, did I really want to upset him? What was he going to do to me if I didn’t do as told?
The unknown looked a lot better than the known. From the way he looked at me earlier, I knew what he wanted to do to me once I was clean. And I couldn’t live with that.
So, I decided not to get cleaned up. Instead, I searched the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Anything to help me out of this mess. I went through the dresser first. There was nothing except a washcloth and a small screw, not big enough to do any damage. Next, wasthe bathroom. There should have been something like a razorblade, but nothing. Had they planned on keeping me hostage in this room? I looked around. Even the towel railing was removed. There was nothing that would remotely work as a weapon.
Or maybe I wasn’t his first victim.
The large bedroom window slid open easily. My heart thundered as the light autumn breeze caught my face. Although I was on the second story of the cabin, I could still make it down if I was careful. I could still escape. Every fibre in my body wanted to climb through the window, but that wouldn’t be smart. He was coming back. Any second. If I didn’t get a good enough head start, he would catch me again, within minutes. It was already established that I couldn’t outrun him. No, the smart thing to do was to wait until they were sleeping. I would endure whatever he had planned for me when he came back, and then I’ll run like hell.
With that thought, I slid the window shut. My nerves were fried. I made my way to the bedside table closest to the window. The first drawer was empty. The bottom one as well, except for a small flashlight broken in half. The flashlight tumbled from my hand, back into the drawer with a thud.
I paused. That didn’t sound right. My knuckles rasped against the bottom of the drawer. Yes, the sound wasoff. I pulled the drawer out as far as it could go and inspected it with my fingers. The visibility in the room was pitiful with only the moon as my light source. On the side of the drawer, I felt a latch and pulled at it.
It clicked and a hidden compartment sprang open. Inside it was a folded-up paper. A map. I held it up to the window. It was a map of FrostfordForest. On it were two X’s drawn in red ink, like on a treasure map. It was possible that one of the X’s were the cabin’s location.
Gods, if only I paid more attention to the survival lessons Dad tried to teach me on our camping trips. Instead, I had my nose buried in a forest plant guide, all the damn time.
There was a way to determine one’s location on a map, right? I couldn’t remember. My mind could only recall Dad’s voice chiding me for not paying attention.“If something happens and we get separated, how are you going to survive without me?”
I had rolled my eyes at him.“Nothing is going to happen, Dad. And if it did, the trees will protect me.”
At about fourteen years old, he stopped bothering to teach me. Instead, he bought me a specimen journal where I could keep samples and journal about the different plant species I found while on our camping expeditions. The summer before university was our last camping trip. Every summer since, he would ask, but I would always be too busy. Promising to go with him during the next summer.
My chest ached. There might not be a next.
Shaking my head, I tried to clear those devastating thoughts. I shouldn’t think like that. I was going to live.
My fingers fumbled around the hidden compartment again. They grazed something soft. It was a pink stuffed bunny with floppy ears, but it had dark stains on it that felt crusty. The bunny looked worn, like a child’s favourite toy usually was. I lifted it towards the moonlight to see better, wishing I had more light, before dropping it to my lap. There was anotherwhite piece of paper in the compartment. No, not a paper, but a photo, folded in half. I opened it but immediately wished I hadn’t. The scene depicted in the photo was gruesome. There was a woman, completely naked, and a child on the floor, covered in blood. Obviously dead. They had been shot, more times than necessary, their bodies mangled. The dark-haired little girl was still clutching her stuffed animal.
The same bunny that was laying in my lap.
It was blood. The bunny was covered in blood.
I shifted away quickly, letting it fall to the floor, my stomach churning. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to vomit.
Who were this woman and girl? Why was there a picture of their murder and the girl’s toy hidden in this room?
The answer was clear, but it was still hard to swallow down. I’ve watched enough crime television to know that killers liked to keep trophies. This had to be a trophy.
What would he keep of me?
There were footsteps in the corridor. The floorboards were creaking. I quickly shoved the map and photo back into the secret compartment. I picked up the bunny, trying my best not to touch any bloody spots, stuffed it back in and shut the drawer, sitting back onto the bed where Death last saw me.
