Dc Helen Goldman's Story

Part of the Epilogue of The Librarian's Story

Detective Constable Helen Goldman was found wandering in Hyde Park 10 months after her disappearance. I had told DI Hume she was alive and she was, but she would live with the legacy of her own actions, for Reece's revenge on her had been particularly brutal.

She was found half naked, all she was wearing was a ragged T-shirt that barely covered an obviously pregnant belly, along with a soiled pair of knickers and a tattered bra, she was covered in bruises, cuts and lacerations. Hanging around her neck was her police warrant card; it had been put there by her kidnapper/attacker who obviously wanted whoever found her to know exactly who she was.

It turned out that she had been kidnapped on her way home from work two days after her visit to the Crematorium and her desecration of Anjuli's memorial.

As fit as she was, she was no match for her attacker. He knocked her out with one side blow to the head and when she came to her senses she found herself in some sort of underground bunker lying on a mattress, with one leg chained to the wall and both her hands manacled as well, but with long chains that appeared to be locked into the wall on some sort of pulley system.

She was a prisoner; it appeared to the young police woman that she was in some sort of a underground room, it was almost dungeon like and it was damp and dark with only the sound of splashing water running down concrete walls to comfort her.

She found she was clad in her bra and knickers, there was no sign of the rest of her clothes. Within reach of the chains was a toilet, there was obviously some basic plumbing in this damp dungeon, for next to the toilet was a cold tap with a bucket under it but nothing else.

She could not describe her attacker with any real accuracy as the room was always in darkness and even when he was close up to her she only had a vague sense of his facial features, she could not say what color his hair was, how tall he might be, or if his eyes were blue, green or brown.

Food was dispensed through a hatch in the wall that was made out of solid metal. The hatch was at the bottom of her mattress about five feet off the ground.

When it slid open, there was always a tray on it, but she could see no light and when she tried to touch the inside of it, it snapped shut and she lost her only meal for the day.

The young officer quickly learnt that the food hatch was of no use to her other than to provide her with food. There was a door but it was well out of the reach of her chains. She could see the outline of it in the darkness.

During her ten month incarceration Detective Constable Helen Goldman learnt what it was like to be helpless and at the total mercy of another person who took over her body, mind and soul for the duration of her imprisonment.

Her attacker's cruelty went far beyond rape, he made her afraid, not of being physically or sexually abused, Goldie had the stamina to survive that but what she didn't have the stamina to survive was her inordinate fear of being left to die in a cold dark place on her own.

Somehow her kidnapper/attacker knew her fears; it was if he could climb inside her head and see everything she was afraid of.

He never talked to her in the early days. He just fed her for the first six days and then on the seventh day she saw the light. It appeared suddenly, under the out of reach door and then she heard the sound of shoes moving back and forth. She started shouting then, rattling her chains. She saw movement, shadow blocking light and whoever was outside the door remained there.

She swore and cursed, but it got no response.

Ten minutes later the light was gone and there was the sound of feet moving away.

She lasted eighteen days in the darkness it eventually dawned on her that she was totally trapped with seemingly no way out. Her chains were snug, not chafing but snug, she could never pull them out of the wall, nor could she get them off her wrists.

She suddenly was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. Not only afraid but she felt incredibly vulnerable. Something she had never felt before. She was not to know that her food had traces of a particular drug in it, a drug that heightens those senses that are linked to a part of the brain that deals with fear.

She had no idea that she was being played in a way that would screw with her mind for the rest of her life.

When he came to the door on the 18th day she did not shriek and shout at him as she had done before, she was silent. Kneeling on the mattress, her body wrapped in the rough blanket that was her only warmth at night.

He opened the door; there was no light behind him, it turned off as the door began to open. She could make out a tall shadow that was obviously dressed in black. Even with her eyes which were now used to the dark she could not make out his features or anything else for that matter.

He walked into the cold stone room, he knew how long the chains on her arms were, so if she had tried to lunge at him it would have done no good. She couldn't reach him.

"Kidnapping a police officer is a serious offence," she spoke, trying to keep her voice even.

He stood against the wall, watching her; she could feel his eyes on her even in the darkness.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, there was still no answer and the young police officer momentarily lost her temper.

"Look you bastard...." she spat out and then she let out a little cry as he moved toward the door, turning her back on him.

"Don't go!" she heard herself cry out and she felt sick by her weakness, she was asking her kidnapper/attack to stay.

He left, shutting the door behind him and locking it. She cried for the first time, with shock, frustration and fear.

The next day she didn't lose her temper and once again he stayed, silently out of her reach.

"For Christ sake talk to me!" she snapped but he

didn't he just stayed by the wall. He did this for several more days. She tried to get him to talk, she learnt if she lost her temper he would leave and though she hated him, she didn't want him to go, he was a human being and she needed human company, even if it was the hated company of her captor.

She talked to him, at first she tried to reason with him, she learnt not to lose her temper, that got a reaction she didn't want, he left the room, then she found herself pleading with him, still no reaction, then she begged him to let her go, not even a movement from him as he leaned against the wall and watched her in the darkness, kneeling or standing on her mattress depending on how she was feeling.

Next she cried, in frustration, in fear, in anger, in terror that she might never speak to another person again in her life.

On the 40th day she finally gave in, "I'll do whatever you want," she heard herself say and he laughed a soft laugh and then spoke to her for the first time.

"Lie on the mattress and put your hands above your head."

She had obeyed him, she had almost panicked when the manacles around her wrists started to move, she could hear a grating sound and she realized that the chains that were on her wrists were being shortened, very soon her arms were held firmly over her head, she could move them but she no longer had control over them.

"Spread your legs," was the next command.

With a little whimper Goldie obeyed, she closed her eyes, she would pretend nothing was happening to her, she would pretend she was on holiday with a mysterious lover and the lights had gone out and she couldn't see anything.

She expected pain, but it didn't happen, she felt his hands on her thighs and she stiffened, resisting the urge to kick out, for he had said softly when he had knelt on the mattress below her, "Kick me and I will leave you here on your own for good, you'll never see the light of day again, and you'll never speak to another person as long as you live and you can live a long time underground when food, water and air is provided for you." and she knew he meant it.

He stroked her crotch, she still had her knickers on but he didn't remove them right at that moment, he just ran his fingers up and down her crotch.

Goldie tried to ignore the butterfly wing strokes of his long fingers, it was disconcerting, she expected him to be rough, brutal even but he wasn't., far from it, his touch was tender almost.

Later she would understand what he had done; he had replaced brutality with pleasure, for Goldie had a body that could be stimulated albeit unwillingly, what was pleasurable could be more dangerous than what was none.

His fingers moved up and down her crotch in steady long strokes and she started to speak but he said from the darkness, "You only speak when you are spoken to, you don't get to call the shots DC Goldman, not this time, not for a very long time."

Her mouth clamped shut, tears leaked from her eyes, he said, "Lift your bottom up." She did as he commanded, he eased her knickers over her buttocks, down her legs, he made her pull her free leg out of her knickers and he started to stroke her crotch again, his fingers moved up and down her slit, gently and steadily, she tried to ignore the tingling sensations she was experiencing, but it was harder than she expected, she struggled to keep her breathing even and steady, she would not be aroused by this bastard, she wouldn't be!

She never for one moment expected him to perform oral sex on her, she let out a cry, or rather a little wail when his tongue suddenly invaded her, her eyes were closed tightly, and she was not aware of his head lowering itself, but she felt his hands grasping her thighs and holding them firm and then the nub of clit was being lapped at with delicious strokes that made her judder violently on the mattress despite herself.

He forced her legs upward and over his shoulders, his tongue moved back and forth, going deeper and deeper inside of her, and eyes watered with the strain of her self control; she tried not to cry out, she really did but she couldn't help herself.

He used his thumb to help his tongue, making her bottom undulate on the mattress beneath her, taking her slowly toward an edge of pleasure she did not want to drop over, she tried counting sheep inside of her head, she tried to think of her boss and what he would be doing right now but all she could feel was her captor's tongue and rubbing thumb between her legs. He worked steadily, licking, rubbing, nibbling, even kissing, he did not speak, his breathing was even and steady, he knew what he wanted and he would get it, no matter how hard she tried to deny him it.

He eventually made her orgasm despite herself, not once but twice, she cried herself to sleep after he had gone, she couldn't believe how weak she was, how she had let him conquer her body, her crotch was sticky with his spittle and her own juices and he had left her knickers dangling from her left leg to remind her of her folly.

The next ten months were to go by very slowly for DC Goldman, the next day when he came to see her, he told her to take her bra off which she did, this time she was determined not to let her body betray as it had done the day before, however Goldie was not aware at that point at how ruthless her captor was or what his real intentions were, this realization would only later, much later.

He had tossed her a blindfold and told her to put it around her eyes, as if it wasn't dark enough already, he told her if she didn't tie it tightly around her eyes he would leave her for a month on her own. She tied the blindfold firmly around her eyes and he told her to kneel on the mattress with her back to the wall and put her hands behind herself.

Once again the hand manacles were pulled back by the pulley system so that she was held against the cold wall and he had come over to her, knelt in front of her and began to fondle her breasts.

He stroked, fondled, and squeezed her breasts, he was not rough, he pinched and tweaked her nipples, and as he had done the day before, he slowly but surely aroused her reluctant body to a pinnacle of inescapable physical pleasure.

She knew she was lost when he slid one hand into her knickers and began to finger her whilst sucking on an engorged nipple and fondling her other breast and once again she orgasmed despite herself, an orgasm that left her crying out in pleasure, distress and anguish.

This went on for weeks, he played with her body like it was it was a mere toy, he bought her to orgasm in a variety of ways that she had not thought were possible.

As time went on Goldie began to lose a sense of herself, she found herself wondering what he was going to do to her the following day, if it was the following day as she had lost all sense of time by then.

It took him two months to break her properly, but it happened as he knew it eventually would, and when it did, Goldie ceased to be the person she once was and when she was finally set free she never told anyone, not even the Councilors bought into evaluate her by her employers that in those months after acquiescing to him she became totally dependent upon him, he made her need him, want him, desire him. Yes, even desire him though it was a warped kind of desire, tangled up with everything else that he did to her over the long terrible months of her captivity.

She kept many secrets from the Doctors about her captivity, the main one being when he undid her hand manacles for the first time she didn't try and attack him, for she was too busy having a mind blowing orgasm that left her jerking, screaming and thrashing on the mattress like she was an epileptic having a grand mal seizure.

It was the first time they had full penetrative sex, and it had not been rape in any sense of the word, she had wanted him to fuck her and he knew it as much as she knew it.

Afterwards he had kissed her, a soft passionate kiss that made her belly tremble, and a month after that she was performing oral sex on him without protest, she had become his captive and willing whore, and he had set out to make her into just that.

When he had let her go she had been seven or so months pregnant with his child, she never got to know his name, Hume never told her, for he that would mean betraying the Librarian and though he would never condone what had been done to Goldie, he could not right that wrong, no one could, what was done was done.

Goldie's abductor had finally taken from her place of captivity, he had drugged her food and she had eventually woken up lying on a mattress in the back of a moving vehicle.

It was pitch dark at first but she knew he was there, she sensed him, smelt him, she was blind folded, she could feel the cloth over her eyes, tight against her skull.

He had laughed softly and told her this was there last time together and she had been terrified for she thought he intended to kill her but he hadn't, he had let her live, let her live so she could suffer for the rest of her life with the knowledge that she had been his sex slave in that cold dungeon that she had been forced to call home for the last ten or so months.

He had thrown her out of the van as if she was a piece of meat, she remembered landing on a patch of grass, rolling as she did, instinct making her protect her protruding belly, she never saw the van for by the time she got orientated it was long gone.

She had eventually wandered around the park for half an hour before anyone helped her, there were people about but none came near her, if anything they walked away from her when they saw her disheveled and half undressed state.

Goldie was unable at first to call for help, instead she stood numbly where she was on a patch of grass, near some trees, unsure where she was or for that matter who she was but what she did know was that she was cold and slowly but surely and her mind was clearing.

Tears began to trickle down her over white face; she was like a wax doll that had been in the darkness for too long.

It was ironic that the people who eventually helped Goldie were a little old Indian man and his wife who were out for an early walk in the park before they left their London based son and very unmarried son for their home in Leicester.

They would have ignored her, walked passed her having taken her for a drug addict or a mad tramp but when the old woman looked at her more closely, saw her pregnant belly, she said to her husband, "I think we should call the police."

Her husband had snorted at first, told his wife they should mind their own business, for there was nothing worse than getting involved in the world of Gorra's but his wife had insisted and with a sigh he had reached for the mobile phone his son had bought for him on his last visit to London and started to slowly key in the non-emergency police number his son had drummed into him.

The old woman in turn had moved slowly toward Goldie, not sure if she was making a mistake, but the girl's pregnancy more than her distressed stated worried her, she was a mother and a Grandmother herself, having born five children three girls and two boys, the youngest still unmarried much to her disgust, and her instinct told her no woman as pregnant as this woman was would be out dressed in practically nothing and in such a disheveled state unless something was terribly wrong.

It was then old woman saw the warrant card hanging around the still woman's neck, she read the name, saw the picture along with the star shaped silver and blue badge and she said in a stunned voice to her husband who was still struggling to key in the non-emergency police number into his phone, "Hai! She is a police officer! Call 999!"

The old man obeyed his wife, his English was not as good as hers but he managed to tell the operator that he and his wife had found a pregnant female police officer in the park and that it looked like she had been attacked.

Afterwards the old man had taken his coat off and covered her semi naked body. It was a big coat, warm and smelling of curry and spices. His son had bought it him, it was a good coat, he had been at loath to give it up but the girl was shaking as she clutched at her huge belly and his wife had exclaimed she was like ice to touch.

His wife had then taken her to a nearby bench made her sit down; she had zipped up the jacket, telling Goldie she had to keep warm for her and the baby's sake.

The baby, oh God she was pregnant, Goldie's brain was starting to belong to herself, she looked up at the concerned dark face above her, no one else had come to help her, this woman had, this woman who smelt of Jasmine, wore a sari and who probably would not have looked at her twice if something had not told her that the pregnant girl standing in the park was not just your run of the mill tramp.

Goldie realized right then that she was free and not trapped in a cold dark dungeon forever. The older woman sat down beside her and had taken off her shawl which was wrapped around her own heavy coat, she wrapped it around Goldie's legs and told her to put her hands into the pockets of the coat as they were fleeced lined and would warm her hands up.

Goldie burst into tear then, she heard herself saying she was sorry to the old woman who had told her she had nothing to be sorry for but she did not know that the tormented young police woman was actually apologizing for being a racist, for not taking people as she found them, these people had not judged her, not seen her as a tramp as others in the park had, they had seen her humanity and acted accordingly.

By the time the ambulance arrived Goldie was hysterical with relief, combined with a total fear that what she had done with her captor would soon be revealed to the world, she couldn't get away from it, she was several months pregnant, whilst trapped in her prison she had not thought about what would happen to her and the baby, in fact she had ignored her pregnancy as best she could, but here in the cold light of day she could not ignore it, she would never be able to ignore it.