Secluded House

Chapter 1 – Flat Tire

Chapter 2 - Help

No one heard me. Is it possible? The house is so close. I shouted again. What I am going to do now? Could I have broken my ankle? Such things do happen, but why to me? I unbuckled the strap and gently touched the swelling. It was bigger than before. I took off the shoe and cautiously moved my ankle. More pain. Should I attempt to walk? Of course not, but I can't stay here as well. I stood up, carefully balancing on my right foot. It was very painful, but I somehow managed to put weight on the injured ankle. After a couple of tentative steps, I realized that I could do it. I toiled on, wincing at every step. The fact that I was wearing just one shoe impeded my movements and the limping became much worse. I wondered if I was a grotesque sight. How can I think about such things right now? Silly girl! The trampled earth felt cold under my stockinged foot. Small pebbles were scratching the soft skin of my sole. It was so unpleasant. I walked on tiptoes within ten meters but I wasn't steady this way, moreover I was apprehensive about turning my ankle again so I stopped experimenting. Finally, I reached the house. In the poor light coming out of the two curtained windows, I saw that the house was old. The flowerbeds near the front porch looked overgrown. I had a hard time climbing the three steps and getting to the front door. I knocked and waited. Nothing! I knocked harder. The sound of muffled steps came from within. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. The door opened. A few seconds later my eyes adjusted to the bright light and I saw him clearly. The man was tall and slender, early-thirties, dark-haired. He looked at me from head to toe. I stirred self-consciously.

"It seems that you need help," he said.

"Yes," I answered.

He stepped back and asked me in.

"What happened?" he questioned as I hobbled in.

I lay back in the armchair he offered me and started to recount my misadventures, starting from the moment when the tire exploded. He listened attentively, his eye fixed on mine. I finished my story and looked sadly at my injured limb.

"Let me see your ankle!" The man said and fetched a stool.

"I will be very grateful to you if you just drive to the nearest hospital. I do not want to bother you. "

"The nearest is 65 miles away," he said smiling. " It may look unbelievable to you but I am orthopedist. By the way my name is Steven."

"I am Tiffany and I am born with a silver spoon in my mouth."

As I said that we both smiled and shook hands. After that, Steven kneeled down on the floor before me. He took my foot in his hands and scrutinized my poor ankle.

"Please, remove the stocking," he asked me.

I reached under my skirt, pulled it down my leg and below the knee. He helped me by gently dragging the tattered stocking over my ankle and foot. I thanked him. Then Steven lifted my ankle. He pressed the palm of his left hand under the instep. His movements were confident. It felt awkward that a stranger was touching my bare foot though. Moreover, my foot was smudged with dirt. When he slowly stirred my ankle, I winced from the pain, but forced myself to remain silent.

"Do you think it is broken?" I asked.

"No, it isn't. Do not worry about that. Just a twist."

He propped my leg on the stool and went somewhere. I looked around me. The spacious living area was occupied with old-fashioned furniture. Large beams were supporting the high ceiling. To my left, two logs were smoldering in a big fireplace, to the right there was a wooden staircase leading to the upper floor. Everything appeared clean and well tended.

Steven brought a washbasin and a towel. After washing my ankle and drying it carefully, I propped it back on the stool.

"This will help you for the pain," he announced and poured me some whisky.

"I am not much of a drinker."

"Use it as a medicine! It will help you feel better."

He turned out to be right.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No, I don't think I can eat right now?"

As I sipped my drink slowly, Steven bandaged my swelled ankle. He did it very deftly. The tightening noticeably eased the pain. Surprisingly, I felt strange excitement from the touch of his fingers. I almost giggled as his fingers accidentally brushed against my toes. Am I getting drunk? Steven thought that he had caused me pain and excused himself. He was so kind to me! After finishing the dressing, he went upstairs to prepare my bedroom.

"If you have problems climbing the stairs I can..." Steven's voice trailed off.

"No problem. The pain is almost gone," I said using my most charming smile.

He blushed a little. Maybe he likes me? Does he think I am pretty? 5' 4', 110 pounds, blond hair, green eyes? Possibly, I am a little short. It would have been great if I had allowed him to carry me up the stairs! Is it too late?

Steven went upstairs again and returned carrying a pair of dark green pointed clogs with two-inch heels. They looked cute.

"Try these! My ex-wife forgot them here. Nearly your size I think."

I took off the high heel and slipped the clogs on. Just a little bit too big for my small sized feet. They were quite comfortable though.

Steven said that he would take care of the car first think in the morning. I gave him the keys. He also promised to bring my traveling bag. Then I decided to go to bed. If my ankle got better tomorrow, I intended to drive to Seattle, where I had an appointment with one of my colleagues. What if the car needs repairs? I willed myself not to think about that.

As I was climbing the stairs one step at a time, supporting myself on the railing, I looked down at Steven. His eyes were fixed on me. I knew for sure that there was anxiety in them. Why?

Chapter 3 – Curiosity

I was so tired that I slept as a baby. The smell of food waked me up. It was ham and eggs. Definitely. I stretched and sat up on the bed, thinking how hungry I was. Almost famished. My ankle was better. The swelling had subsided considerably. I noticed that Steven had brought my traveling bag. I dressed myself. The skirt I wore yesterday was not adequate to the morning cold. It didn't cover my knees. Despite that, I put it on again. I put on a light green blouse and white cotton sock on my right foot. Walking nearly without a limp, I went to the adjacent bathroom. After that, I went downstairs. Steven wasn't there. He had left a note on the kitchen table. It said that the front axle is broken but he knows someone who can repair my car. It said also that he had prepared breakfast for me and that he hoped I would like it. I did really like it.

I decided to take a walk. The air was cool and pleasant. In the distance, I saw that the car wasn't where I had left it. There were weeds everywhere. Obviously, my host didn't enjoy field work. A harrow path took me behind the house. To my surprise a group of splendid pines were growing there. At least fifty of them. Huddled under the trees was a little bower. I rested a couple of minutes, then stood up and set off for the house. I had made no more then ten steps when I heard something. I turned toward the sound and strayed out of the path. The building was barely visible between the pines. It looked like a barn. The sound became louder. It definitely was a radio or TV. I walked very carefully, trying not to trip on the fallen branches. As I reached the building, I was surprised to see that it is in perfect condition. Painted recently. I get closer to the sole window. What I am doing? It's not good to be so nosy. In spite of that, I took a deep breath and peered in. A man was watching TV. He was lying on a bed, his head propped on pillows. I gave a start when I saw that his chest was bandaged. The bandages were smeared with blood. My heart missed a beat. What is this man doing here? As I pondered over the subject, he looked toward the window. I stepped back. Did he see me? I could not be sure. Why am I so anxious about that? Possibly, because there is something wrong here.

"Tiffany, what are you doing here?" Steven was glaring at me, his arms folded. "Obviously your ankle is better."

He appeared completely changed. I was sure he was going to slap me. It was impossible to hide my confusion.

"I just..." I stammered.

"Did he saw you?"

"No." I answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Who is this man?"

Steven remained silent. Then he rudely grabbed my left arm above the elbow and dragged me toward the house. His gentle manners were gone.

"It hurts!" I cried.

He mumbled something and let go of my arm.

"Go upstairs!" Steven said as we entered the house.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

He followed me close behind as I climbed the stairs. Then he locked me into the bedroom, taking my mobile with him.

"You don't have the right to do this to me," I shouted.

Steven didn't reply. I threw a vase at the closed door. It burst loudly. This made me feel a bit better.

Chapter 4 – Landing

I contemplated my situation for hours. Without any result. I had formed a wrong opinion about Steven. He was so kind at first. Everything that happened made me feel very stupid. Now, I was convinced that he was doing something illegal. What's he going to do with me?

Around noon, Steven unlocked the door and came in carrying a tray.

"I brought you some food," he said and put the tray on the table.

Good. This is definitely a good sign.

"I am not hungry," I hissed.

"I understand how you feel."

"Really?"

"I beg your pardon but I do not intend to argue with you. For the time being, you must stay here! If you need something, let me know. When the man you just saw heals completely, you can go. No more than a week, I suppose. I will explain everything then."

"Are you crazy? I can't stay here," I said firmly.

"Sorry."

I thought that I should be more patient.

"Why don't you explain me everything now?"

"I don't want to endanger you."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise. Just let me go."

"Stop it!" he said and turned.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Of course."

After I returned, I noticed that Steven had swept the shards. He didn't even mention the vase. This made me feel guilty.

This feeling quickly evaporated when he locked me up again. I clenched my fists and cursed.

In the afternoon Steven brought a small TV set and books.

"I don't know what kind of books you like," he said.

I didn't answer.

"Let me see your ankle! It may need a new dressing."

"Oh, it's very considerate of you. Do not bother! I have never been better. By the way, why don't you just leave me alone?"

I was glad to see that my sarcasm affected him. His face darkened. He turned to leave.

"Don't forget to lock the door!" I added.

He didn't.

That is foolish. Why I am trying to irritate him? He can do what he wants. He can even kill me.

For some time, I nervously walked back and forth. My ankle started aching again. I propped myself on the windowsill and looked through the window. Too high. I can't do that. It is maybe five meters. Better play it safe. However, what is safe considering my situation?

I was up all night. I tried to read a book but find it hard to concentrate. The television didn't help me to relax too. So I just lay and stared at the ceiling. When my stomach started to protest persistently, I ate one of the sandwiches Steven had brought. Notwithstanding, I came to hate him, I doubted that he could poison me.

Gradually it became lighter. The dawn surprised me. I hadn't had a wink of sleep. My body felt numb. When I heard the sound of a car engine I hopped up and went to the window. I saw the taillights of an ancient Ford Mustang. Steven was behind the wheel. The car receded into the far distance. Now if ever. At first, I tried the door. Massive wooden door. Unbreakable. As I opened the window and looked down, a lump formed into my throat. Too dangerous! No one has the right to humiliate me like that, to lock me up as if I am a criminal! I sat on the windowsill and stepped over it. I concentrated a couple of seconds, and then jumped with eyes closed instinctively. At the last second before the impact, I became aware that I am tilted to the right. My right foot contacted the ground. All the weight of my body was on it. My ankle twisted inwards. I cried and fell heavily on the packed ground. Before I hit it, I heard a strange sound. It resembled the sound of a twig being crushed under a booted foot. There weren't any trees nearby though. Strange. The pain came suddenly. This can't be true! I do not deserve such agony! I yelled with pain. Is it broken? Of course it is. I have never broken a bone before. I am not prepared for all this. Why did I jump?

When I mustered enough courage, I looked down at my right foot. The clog had slipped off. I could see the sock clad sole of my foot. My ankle was turned inwards. My toes responded as I willed myself to wiggle them. But the movement sent waves of pain up my leg. I arched my back and whimpered. After wiping the tears away, I focused on my shin. It was angled at the middle. Just looking at it made me feel dizzy. Where is Steven? He is the only one who can help me. The road is too far away. Steven will be mad at me. No doubt about that. I must not be afraid of him. I need him. What a humiliation!

When I thought that I couldn't bear the pain any longer Steven returned. He locked his car and made quickly for the front door. I moaned, trying to draw his attention. He blushed as he saw me. His expression showed total confusion. He neared me, his eyes fixed on my mutilated limb.

"You jumped!" he looked at the open window above, then back at me.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled guiltily.

Steven knelt beside me, scrutinizing my body. I become aware that my skirt was way up my thighs. I pulled it down.

"It's just my leg. I don't feel pain elsewhere," I said tearfully.

"It can't be true! I could not even imagine that you were capable of such stupidity!" he said and walked away from me.

"Please, help me!" I cried.

"Do not move! I will be back in a minute. And don't look at it!"

Steven gave me an injection. A few minutes later, the pain became bearable. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Is it better?" he asked.

I nodded. At the same time, he lifted my fractured leg and slipped something beneath it. A splint. He adjusted it very carefully and buckled it. The fractured bones moved, digging into the flesh. Clenching teeth, I remained silent.

"Are you ready?" Steven asked.

"Ready! About what?"

"I am going to carry you upstairs."

"Yep."

I tried to put my thoughts together. Steven won't drive me to a hospital. This is for sure. However, I need medical care. It looks like he knows what he's doing but... Maybe he will lock me again and leave me die there. I should not think about such terrible things. He is trying to help me. Nevertheless, if he hadn't locked me, I would not have jumped off the window.

Steven lifted me up with ease. I rested my cheek on his shoulder. Immobilized by the splint the pitiful semblance of a leg was jutting out. I was frightened of the possibility of catching it on something. Luckily, Steven was very attentive.

We reached the bedroom uneventfully. He laid me down in my bed and propped my broken leg on pillows. I relaxed a little.

"Thank you," I said.

"I haven't done anything yet," he replied and left.

Chapter 5 – I Must Do It

I don't want to be alone! Why did he leave? The pain is getting worse again!

Steven returned. He looked at me and smiled.

"Did you miss me?'' he asked.

"How did you know?''

"I see it in your eyes, Tiffany. Don't worry! Everything is going to be fine. With your permission, I will remove the splint," he said merrily.

"Why?"

"You will see. Have you ever broken a bone?"

"No."

Steven removed the splint. An ugly bluish swelling had formed at the place of the fracture. He gently pulled my sock off. Supporting my broken leg with both hands, he asked me to turn on my stomach. I complied. The movement brought tears into my eyes.

"Are you really an orthopedist?"

"Yes. Don't be so suspicious! I know what I am doing," he said calmly, while his hands were supporting my leg.

As I lay on my stomach, he unexpectedly sat on the back of my thighs, pinning me down. All his weight was on me. Then he bent my knee so that the sole of my foot was against his chest. I felt his grip tightening around my ankle and heel. He tugged. The pain was unbearable. I howled. Tears streamed down my cheeks mingling with cold sweat. The feeling of bone fragments grating against each other was awesome. As if jagged knives were stuck in my leg, piercing the flesh.

"Stop! Please don't do it! It hurts so much, so much..."

Steven pulled and twisted once more. He continued tormenting me as though he hadn't heard my pleas.

"Please! I can bear it anymore."

"I know honey, but I must do it. Just one final tug...that's it."

At last he stopped. I was sobbing quietly, almost happily.

"It's over. The fracture is reduced," Steven said and stood up.

I was physically and emotionally drained from this horrible ordeal. The pain had subsided considerably so I just lay, eyes closed.

Steven drew closer and placed his hand on my brow.

"Are you OK?"

I nodded.

"I will be back in an hour. Take a rest and don't move your leg, Tiffany," Steven said and left.

Why didn't he immobilize my leg with the splint? I wanted to know what he is up to, but I refrained myself from asking him. Deadly tired, I dozed off. Before long, I waked up with a start, realizing that the effect of the medicine Steven had given me was wearing off. The pain returned. Still tolerable though.

Steven came back carrying a bag and a bucket with water.

"You will put me in plaster!" I exclaimed.

"Are you surprised?"

"No... I just thought that the splint is enough..."

"It isn't. Don't be afraid! The procedure is not painful."

"I am not afraid."

"Let's do it then, daring girl."

He sat on the bed beside me.

"Nice, pinkish heel," he commented.

"It has been like that for as long as I can remember."

He laughed.

I felt something soft touching my toes. The sensation was like slipping a stocking on. The material was white colored. Sitting on the rim of the bed, Steven pulled it up my ankle, then drew it above my knee. His fingers smoothed the wrinkles. Then it dawned on me that the cast will be longer than I expected. Was it necessary to immobilize the knee? Possibly. Two or three years ago, I saw a young woman in a long leg cast. A rubber heel was fixed into the bottom of the cast so she was able to walk quite easily. Her exposed toes were curling up and down funnily at every step. The sound of dripping water got me out of the reverie. Steven was squeezing a plaster bandage. Then he lifted my foot up so that my knee bent at a 90-degree angle and wrapped the plaster around my instep. I was seeing only a part of what he was doing. His movements felt calm and confident. Molding the cast with care, Steven was smoothing it from time to time. Soon the plaster covered my ankle and reached my knee.

"Could you please turn on your back, Tiffany?"

Steven helped me to do this, supporting me, then propped the unfinished cast on pillows. After that, he continued his job applying plaster on my knee and thigh. I saw that the cast had a slight bent at the knee.

"Some time ago I saw a woman with a rubber heel molded into her cast..." I tried to explain.

"Do not even think about this! Your leg is badly broken."

"Is it so bad? Would I be able to walk without a limp?"

"You will be fully recovered in two months. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Two months! No!"

"What you are talking about! You could have killed yourself," Steven said irritably.