behind my back.
My hearing was the only sense that wasn’t restricted, and I took in every noise until he placed something over my bent body.
Heavy, scratchy.
Like a wool blanket.
And it shut off the night air and the subtle sounds, and I could only hear the louder ones.
Tears continued to stream from my eyes as I hung upside down, the blood rushing to my head only making it worse.
I hit the back of his thigh after each step, the ache in my stomach bubbling.
The anxiety building.
The desire to kick him with my feet was so strong, but I had to force myself not to.
I counted the steps. On the ninth was the sound of a creaky door opening and shutting. I searched for a smell, and there was none—at least, not under the blanket. Eleven more steps, and he stopped.
My nostrils flared to take in as much air as I could hold.
While I balanced over his shoulder, he moved something with his arms. Wheels scraped against the floor. A padlock loosened.
A second one.
And a third.
We were suddenly descending a flight of stairs, the cold of a basement coming under the blanket, followed by a musky scent.
Fourteen steps, and then the grittiness of shoes pressed against cement.
There was no warning. My breath just left my body as I flew through the air. I couldn’t yell, couldn’t cry out, couldn’t gasp—fear was holding those expressions hostage. My shoulder slammed into something semi-soft as I landed, my hip and thigh hitting next.
A mildewy scent filled my nose.
Tense as a rock, sucking in through my gagged mouth, I rolled until I was on my knees.
The moment they were bearing my weight, he pulled off the blindfold.
Air hit me in a whole different way, my eyes burning, watering.
Blinking.
An overwhelming feeling took hold of me as I finally put a face to that scratchy voice, one I was positive I’d never seen before.
“When I can trust you, I’ll take off the gag and handcuffs.”
Trust me?
I guessed he was in his early fifties, well over six feet tall, with gold wire-rimmed glasses, lenses cloudy from dirt. His head was shaved, his double chin wiggling with each word he spoke.
Hatred and anger and confusion and misery—they all combined and boiled.
Why?
How long are you going to keep me?
What are you going to do with me?
I wanted to scream every question.
“You have a long way to go before you earn my trust, Kerry.”
But I’d done nothing wrong.
My heart pounded so hard that my chest was lifting, my shoulders rising.
“See that up there?” He pointed to a camera in the corner of the ceiling, a red light steadily glowing in the center. “I’m always watching you. Be a good girl, Kerry.”
I shook my head. I didn’t understand.
“No?” He seethed. “You’re not going to be a good girl?”
He had read my movements wrong; he thought I was disagreeing with him.
I quickly nodded, rectifying my previous response, pleading with him to show me some mercy.
He stared at me with dark, beady eyes. “Before I leave, I want to make something clear.” He pushed his glasses high on his nose, his fingers short and hairy, nails bitten down to the quick. “I control you now. I decide when you eat and if you get rewarded. The only decisions you’re allowed to make are when to use the bathroom”—he pointed at a bucket in the corner—“and when to be a good girl. If you comply, things will be much easier on you. But if you don’t, I will make this a living hell”—he showed a sideways smile that was dripping with evilness—“where you’ll be begging for me to kill you just to make it stop.”
The tears were choking me.
Quivers shuddered through every part of my body.
He walked over to the wooden stairs along the left side of the small room and turned toward me when he reached the base. “Silence—that’s what I expect from you. Do not utter a sound while you’re in this room. Nod if you understand.”
There was so much emotion in my eyes that he turned blurry.
But I nodded.
And a wave of nausea came up my throat.
He went up three of the steps and said over his shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable, Kerry. This is your new home … where you’ll be spending the rest of your life.”
At the top of the stairs, there was a click from the door shutting, followed by the sound of padlocks.
One.
Two.
Three of them.
I immediately started convulsing in sobs, losing my balance and falling onto my side. I didn’t