Thirteen

Prompt for December 2012: Write a fictional memoir of your character's visit to a foreign country in first person point of view.

Reid Bennett was a miserable sonofabitch, and nothing ruins a once-in-a-lifetime vacation like a maniacal douchebag.

One

Although I couldn't see, Reid held onto my arm and guided me where he wanted me to go. "I promise I'll take the blindfold off once we get you settled," he said. "You've nothing to fear."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "I have a thousand American dollars in my hotel room.You can have it all."

He snickered then. "I don't want your money. Watch your step. I wouldn't want you to fall down the stairs."

I lost my balance and pitched forward. "Careful now," he said, righting me. We descended. Even through the blindfold I could tell it was getting darker, colder. "You're my first. If you're a good girl you'll be my one and only. Would you like that, Aubrey?"

"My name's--"

"Your name's Aubrey," he said, grabbing a fistful of hair and wrenching my head back. "And in case you haven't noticed, I have the upper hand here."

Two

"Sit," he said, pushing me down onto the mattress. The springs squeaked, I heard shackles and my bladder let loose. "We'll start with your left leg, but if you try anything stupid I'll put you in four-point restraints. Understood?"

I began to sob; I'd never been so scared. Mom told me not to travel alone. Why didn't I listen? Why don't I ever listen? 

"Quit your bellyaching, and showers are earned. You might want to think twice before you do that again," he said, gesturing to the pungent urine stain spreading rapidly across the crotch of my jeans.

A handcuff ratcheted around my ankle, the other end fastened to the bed frame. Reid snatched the blindfold from my eyes and I watched, horrified, as he left the dank concrete basement, locking two deadbolts behind him.

Three

The chamber was stark. A single bare bulb illuminated the near darkness. An analog clock chick, chick, chicked away the seconds from the northwest corner of the room.

The bed was bare bones: no pillow, no sheet, no blanket. I lifted the corner of the blue-and-white-striped mattress: the frame was bolted to the wall, the legs to the floor. I wasn't going anywhere.

Where are we? I wondered. I'd left The Courtauld Gallery when it closed at 6:00 p.m. Now the clock read 9:00 p.m. Three hours ago I'd been on top of the world having just seen some of the world's most beautiful artwork by Matisse, Kandinsky, van Gogh, Monet, Renoir, Gauguin, Botticelli, and Cézanne. Now.... 

I closed my eyes and screamed.

Four

I don't remember falling asleep, but I was awakened by the sound of the knob rattling, the door opening. Reid approached me with a TV tray and sat down at the foot of the bed. "Good morning, Aubrey," he said. I have to go to work, so this food must last all day. I'll be back around 4:00."

I glanced at the clock. 7:30. "Four? That's eight and a half hours! What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

Reid reached under the cot and pulled out a mop bucket with a roll of toilet paper inside. "I'll dump it when I get back. And I recommend not doing anything stupid like dumping it onto the floor or splashing the walls. It'll just make things more unpleasant for you."

I wasn't sure which was worse: spending the day with a madman or being locked alone in a dungeon. What if something happens to him? I wondered. What if he gets in a car accident? I'll die down here. 

"I have to go. I don't want to be late for work," he said, glancing at his watch. "Be good today. This is an opportunity to prove your trustworthiness. Perhaps tonight I'll take you upstairs for a shower or a nice bubble bath."

I was left alone then as the smell of bacon permeated the room.

Five

When I was a child I emptied my bowels and bladder in the woods while camping with my parents, but I've never defecated in a bucket. The stench was overwhelming, nauseating really, and it took everything I had not to throw up my freshly-swallowed breakfast.

It's funny what you think about in situations like this. My mind wandered to all the sites I'd seen on my tour of England--St. Paul's Cathedral, the Florence Nightingale Museum, Chislehurst Caves, London Bridge, London Zoo, The Palace of Westminster, Big Ben--and I wondered what Reid had done with my camera. I wanted it back. I wanted my photos; he had no right to take them from me.

I was more enraged by the fact that he'd taken my camera than I was about being shackled to a cot in the lunatic's cellar. The thought made me smile, but the grin melted quickly. It was terrifying that he could appear so normal ... that he could work a 9-to-5 job and lunch with his coworkers and laugh at their stupid jokes and probably be the object of some woman's secret desire while holding me prisoner in an underground vault. It made me wonder whether or not people I work with lead such clandestine lives. The thought chilled me.

I looked at the clock. Noon London time, 5:00 a.m. Idaho time. Mom'll be calling my cell soon. She always calls me on her way to work. She'll know something's wrong when I don't answer. 

A tiny flicker of hope illuminated the dark depths of my despair.

Six

"I am pleased, Aubrey," Reid said as he guided me up the stairs. "You were good today, so I'll allow you that bath we talked about. Then we can eat dinner together. Would you like that?"

Blindfolded and unable to see, I stumbled forward. One right turn at the top of the stairs, then a quick left. No traffic sounds. Dogs ... I hear dogs barking. Are we in the country? The dogs sounded far away, I could barely hear them, and I wondered whether or not their owners could hear me scream.

Reid closed the bathroom door behind us, turned on the tap, and began to undress me. I let him. I was resolved to do whatever it took to survive. He snatched the blinder from my eyes and gestured toward the tub. "Go ahead," he said, smiling. "Get in."

I chanced a glance around the tiny room. No windows--no way of knowing where we were. No sharp instruments--nothing to attack him with. Six miniature toiletry items perched patiently on the edge of the bath: cleansing shampoo, replenishing conditioner, gentle face bar, cleansing bath bar, skin cleansing shower gel, and skin quenching lotion. A single-dose vial of mint mouthwash waited near the sink along with a dollar-store toothbrush, toothpaste, and roll-on deodorant.

I was so tired. Exhausted. I closed my eyes and sank below the water's surface.

Seven

I'm smarter than he is, I thought, taking another bite of my Bubble and Squeak. It is my second favorite English dish, Toad-in-the-Hole being my favorite. If I stay calm I can outwit him. 

"Save some room for dessert," Reid said, placing Maids of Honour in front of me. They were lightly browned, beautiful, and sprinkled with powdered sugar. "Eat as many as you like."

"But there are seven of them. Aren't you going to have some?" I asked.

"No, I don't have much of a sweet tooth. I made them for you. Don't you like them?"

I shoved an entire pastry into my mouth and nodded. I like anything you want me to like, I thought.

Eight 

"You see, you do something nice for me, I do something nice for you," Reid said, snugging a heavy length of chain around my ankle and padlocking it closed. "This way you'll have more freedom. You can walk around a little, get a little exercise."

I nodded as he secured the other end of the chain to the bed frame. 

"You're welcome, Aubrey," he said, clearly agitated. "Isn't this better than the handcuff?"

"Oh yes, thank you."

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it? Maybe tomorrow I'll let you have a blanket."

I waited for him to leave. Is this room soundproof? I wondered. How come I can't hear him moving around upstairs? I can't hear anything down here. 

"One, two, three, four, five six, seven, eight," I counted aloud as I walked. "Eight steps. I guess eight steps is better than being cuffed to the bed."

I paced and thought about how to get out of that hellhole.

Nine 

I awoke at 9:00 a.m. He didn't come down this morning, I thought, panicked. He didn't bring me breakfast. He won't be home from work for hours. 

My stomach growled and I was suddenly parched. "Stop it!" I yelled to the empty room. "You've gone hours without eating before, you can do it again. It's a game. He might be making the rules up as he goes, but you know how to win. Breathe."

I closed my eyes and began to pray.

Ten

"Did today clarify things for you, Aubrey?" Reid asked when he finally came home. "I'm your livelihood--your source of food, water, shelter, safety. You need me."

"Yes, I do," I said, shoveling my last forkful of Bangers and Mash into my mouth "I appreciate everything you've done for me. Thank you." You wanna play, asshole? I can play, too. 

Reid smiled. "You're welcome, Aubrey. I want to provide for you. I want to take care of you. That's why you're here, so we can take care of each other." He paused to sip his tea before adding, "I have an idea: would you like some fresh air?"

My stomach leapt into my throat. "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Reid."

"I like the way my name sounds on your lips," he said, reaching for the chain around my leg. "We'll go outside for ten minutes, and remember the more trust you earn, the more freedom you'll get."

Ten minutes I thought, following him through the front door and into the night. The grass was cold and wet on my bare feet; tiny raindrops freckled my arms and face. I closed my eyes and breathed deep.

"I've got hold of your tether, so don't try anything stupid."

I looked at him in the gloaming, around him, past him, beyond him. There was nothing as far as my eyes could see.

Eleven

"How long have you lived here, Reid?"

"Let me see ... I guess it'll be eleven years in January."

"You've lived here alone that whole time?"

"Yes."

"Don't you ever get lonely out here by yourself?" I asked.

"That's why you're here, Aubrey. Time to go back inside. Your ten minutes is up."

Twelve

"You don't look very old," I said as we made our way back down the stairs. "How did you afford this place?"

"I was twelve when Mom died. She left me a nest egg, but I couldn't get my hands on it until I was eighteen."

"So you're twenty-nine then?" I asked, sitting down and drawing my knees to my chest.

"Yes," he said, reaching to attach my shackle to the bed frame. "Enough questions for now, Aubrey."

I pinioned my legs around his torso, wrapped the chain around his neck, and squeezed until I heard it snap.

Thirteen

"My name's McKenna, bitch!" I screamed, rolling his lifeless body off my lap and onto the floor. I was pretty sure he was dead, but I secured his corpse to the bed frame ... just in case.

I closed the door, twisted the two deadbolts home, and bounded up the thirteen steps to freedom.





Word Count minus prompt (according to Microsoft Word)--1,950.
Written for

SURVEY

What a Character! : Official WDC Contest  (E) Create a memorable character using the given prompt for huge prizes! #1679316 by Writing.Com Support