tell if Travis is coming or going.
My feet touch the cold floor as I leave the bed, putting my ear against the door to listen once more. Nothing. Silence greets me. My hand finds the handle and I jiggle the knob, even though I know it’s locked. I pull a little harder, testing the strength of the door. The knob is screwed in tightly, the door made of a sturdy wood. I won’t be able to break down this door with only my body.
Creeping silently along the rough wooden walls, I feel my way to the boarded window. Running my fingers around the edges, I feel for a loose spot in the seal. Ow, a rough splinter jams into the tip of my middle finger. I take the finger into my mouth, sucking to relieve the ache, the metallic taste of blood on my tongue. Damnit. The board is nailed in as sturdy as the door. I tiptoe back to the mattress, a little more downtrodden than I was a few minutes ago.
Just like all the previous times, the key makes a clinking sound in the lock seconds before the door swings open. Travis stands in the entryway, his body a huge silhouette in the dim light glowing softly behind him. I wish I could see his expression; I might have an idea what he is thinking, but the light makes it impossible. I stare back where I know his eyes to be, trying to look impassive, unaffected, though I am anything but.
I am afraid. It’s had to have been a few days by now, and I still don’t have a clue what he wants from me.
Travis saunters forward, coming to a rest directly in front of me. I have to crane my neck backwards to continue staring at his face. He leans over me, his nearness forcing me to lie back on the mattress to avoid colliding with his face. Looming above me, he holds his body up with his elbows, his knee resting between my legs.
I’m frozen in fear. I should scream, or punch and kick, or spit in his face. Paralyzing fear is the only thing I feel in this cold, dark room while my captor is poised above me, like a snake ready to strike. He cracks a menacing smile at my retreat.
“There’s nowhere for you to go.” His voice is like ice, cold and hard, sending chilling goose bumps down my body. I’ve never seen his eyes so vacant and uncaring, even on his worst days. I’ve never met this Travis before, and dear lord, I hope never to meet him again.
“What do you want,” I barely whisper, finally locating my voice box. I push back with my elbows and the heels of my feet, trying to scurry back the last few inches of space remaining between the wall and myself.
In one smooth glide, Travis follows.
“I think it’s obvious what I want, Lena. The question is: are you going to make it easy on me?” His breath is hot on my face and smells strongly of whiskey. He’s been drinking.
Revulsion slithers through me, down my spine; I begin to shake. If I could stop it I would, not wanting to show him my fear, but it’s an involuntary movement. He takes notice, and his smile tilts higher.
“Please, no!” Here it is that intuitive fight or flight moment. Only I’m restrained, there is no flight for me. My body prepares to do the only thing it can.
My hands clench, still bound to one another and poised above my head, ready to hammer fist down on his face the moment he decides to strike. I can feel the excitement rolling off him in waves, his breathing coming in short, eager gasps. He lunges forward, and at the last second, I bring my fist down, landing my target right between his eyes. He cries out, grabbing his nose as a torrent of blood pours onto his mouth, his shirt, the floor.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he screams before lunging at me once more. This time I bring my legs up, knees bent, springing my feet square in his chest. He drops to the floor, clutching his chest as he gasps for air.
My triumph is short lived, however, as I am still bound and chained to the mattress. He starts to get up, slowly, his breathing still erratic. I wave my hands frantically in his directing, trying to dispel the wrath I know is coming. Travis doesn’t do humiliated, and I