Introspections Ch 04

The girl drew her coat tighter around herself against the chill in the air. She always walked later in the evening, hoping to clear her mind before going to bed. It rarely worked. The neighborhood was familiar, she knew most of the neighbors by name or face, though there were none she considered friends. She'd settled here after graduation because the rent was cheap, not because she was looking for company.

She felt no concern as she approached the white van with a carpet cleaner logo on the side. It had been there often, presumably one of the neighbor's side business. So it was a complete surprise when a man jumped out of the darkness, pushing her against the vehicle, covering her mouth and yanking the purse off her shoulder.

"Keep quiet bitch!" She knew that voice, but from where? She couldn't place it. Lashing out she struggled, trying desperately to scratch and kick him, but he simply opened the back of the van and shoved her in. She focused on slowing her breaths and worked to formulate a plan, attempting to keep track of the turns or determine the speed at which they were traveling, but it was no use.

It didn't seem that they had gone far before the van stopped. Tensing, she moved toward the door, hoping to catch the man by surprise. When the door opened she kicked out violently, connecting with something as she dove out of the van, but a set of strong hands grabbed her firmly, one hand around her waist and the other entwined in her hair.

"Hello slut," he growled at her and abruptly she realized why the voice was familiar. No, it couldn't be. She had been so careful, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. Screaming out she struggled against his hold, but stopped as another man approached. She was outnumbered now, her plan would have to change.

The second man reached toward her face, licking his lips greedily. "She's a nice one, isn't she? Good catch." He grasped her upper arm. She felt the prick of the needle, and within moments all thoughts of a plan slipped away as the darkness took over.

The light flipped on suddenly, bringing her back to her current situation. She glared at him as he approached the cage. Looking her over, he sighed. "You're not ready to talk yet are you?" He didn't expect a response, her fury was apparent even though she crouched on her hands and knees, and predictably he didn't get one.

He twisted the lid on the water bottle he held in his hands and crouched down in front of her, opening the cage. "Drink," he said, holding the bottle to her lips. She turned her head away. "That's an order Hannah. Don't push it."

The bitterness in his tone frightened her far more than any threat. Hesitantly she lifted her head, allowing him to pour the water down her throat, closing her mouth when she felt she had consumed enough. "No, all of it." This time there wasn't any hesitation as she drained the bottle.

"You may think you've seen the worst they can do, but believe me there are things you don't know about the bastard and his crowd. I couldn't let you go if I wanted to. You are a liability, you can't outrun them. They won't kill a valuable piece of property, just ship you off to a brothel in Asia or Europe where you won't be a threat. Think it over Hannah, decide what you really want." He walked out of the room without further comment, again leaving her alone in the dark.

He returned again a couple hours later. "Ready to talk yet?" She glowered at him.

"I need to pee."

He unlocked the door of the cage, allowing her to climb out, and helped her to her feet, taking her arm. He lead her in the direction of the main room and she tried to pull away, fearing another punishment, but that wasn't his intended destination. Instead he directed her into an unfinished bathroom. She moved toward the toilet, confused when she discovered it was not installed.

"Use the shower." His tone didn't leave room for argument. She entered the shower and glared at him again. "I'm not taking my eyes off you, even for a minute. I don't trust you." The nibbling of her lip began, but he simply stood staring at her blankly. Finally she turned her back on him, trying to forget he was there, and crouched down over the drain to relieve herself. As she stood he handed her a tissue and she wiped herself clean, discarding it in a nearby wastebasket.

"Ready yet?" he inquired, but the humiliation had rekindled her anger. He led her back to the small room, this time directing her into the taller cage. She found there was enough room to turn around, but certainly not enough room to sit down. Lights went out and the door closed.

After awhile her legs ached and she shook the bars of the cage in frustration, not that it changed her situation in the least. She wanted to lash out at him and scream. She wanted to beg him to hold her. Which was he, savior or captor? She had no idea what she really wanted, how could he expect her to figure it out alone in the dark?

She was slumped against the cage when he returned a short time later. He had closely observed her through his camera system and he was beginning to grow concerned. "Will you talk now Hannah? Please?"

She didn't look up. "What do you want me to talk about?"

"Tell me why you hate yourself."

At that she did look up, scornfully retorting, "Not why I hate you?"

He shook his head sadly. "I know why you hate me. I don't expect that will change any time soon. What I don't understand is this war you are fighting within yourself. There's something you are keeping from me Hannah, I can see it in your eyes."

She swallowed nervously. "Are you going to let me out?"

He nodded slowly. "After you tell me. If you tell me the truth, and I will know."

She closed her eyes, as if blocking him out, and her response came out in a hoarse whisper. "It's my fault they took me."

He leaned against the wall tiredly. "Self blame is normal sweetheart. It's not your fault. It was a random chance, being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She clenched her fists and opened her eyes, seeking his gaze, and the anguish he saw shocked him. "No. It wasn't random. I knew my trainer. Shawn." She spit out his name as though it were a foul word. "I recognized his voice, but it wouldn't have mattered if I didn't. He took pleasure in telling me what a great bonus he got for reeling me in."

Her eyes grew distant, as though she was not looking at him, but rather through him. "I played dangerous games with myself. Quietly, nobody could know. Dark feelings I never shared out loud, until I discovered others shared similar fantasies. Online it was easy to be anonymous, I figured it was safe. I dabbled in porn, lingered in forums, explored the dynamic complexities of submission until finally initiating conversation with an online dominant. I relished the secrecy, got off on the humiliation as he pushed me to carry out increasingly debasing acts.

I liked it. I hated myself for liking it, but I justified it. It wasn't real. I was careful, using a clandestine email. No pictures, no phone numbers, not even real names. I told myself I could stop any time I wanted. It was supposed to just be a game. I never meant for it to become anything more. Never dreamed it would become my reality."

Hearing enough, more than enough, he unlocked the door and gathered her in his arms, nuzzling her hair. "Oh Hannah, my sweet Hannah. It was fantasies, just normal exploration, really it was. You had no way of knowing how easy you would be to trace, what a perfect victim you made. It's them at fault sweetheart, not you. Never you."

She began to sob and he held her tightly, supporting her weight in his arms. "That's it, let it go. You are stronger than you know Hannah. Stronger than you could ever imagine. You will get through this, I promise. I will help you."

Finally she stopped and he scooped her up, carrying her out of the basement. Strangely she wasn't too far gone to notice the lock on the basement door had been removed. When they got upstairs he paused and looked down at her. "Bath first or straight to bed sweetheart?"

"Bath please," she murmured quietly and he carried her into the bathroom, cradling her on his lap as the tub filled. She made no objections when he picked up the soap, allowing him to wash her, groaning in relief as he gently massaged her aching muscles.

She was nearly asleep before the water drained. He toweled her out dry and she was out completely as soon as her head hit the pillow on his bed. He didn't lay next to her this time, not sure he trusted himself with a naked, sleeping girl in his arms. Instead he simply sat and watched her breathe, until he was certain she would sleep without dreams.

When she awoke she glanced around the master bedroom, drowsily climbing out of the bed. She wandered over to the walk in closet and rummaged around looking for clothes. Not finding where he kept the ones he had been giving her she helped herself instead to one of his larger tee shirts. It hung loosely on her tiny frame. Taking a deep breath she opened the door and padded into the kitchen.

He sat at the table, his back to her, but turned when she cleared her throat. She eyed him nervously, wondering if by dressing herself she had earned another punishment. He stood calmly, grabbing a plate from the fridge and setting it on the table. "Your clothes are in the dresser," he offered without malice as he turned back to the tattered file he had been flipping through.

Approaching the table she sat beside him and ate the sandwich slowly, finally pushing the plate away and waiting expectantly for further interrogation. Instead he pushed a paper toward her. Glancing down she found it to be a portrait of a young girl, a brunette with a gaunt face and dark green eyes that somehow seemed haunted.

"Her name was Sarah," he said quietly. "I told you she hung out with the wrong crowd. Drugs, sex, anything to drowned out the pain of loosing our parents too soon. One day we argued, she left angry and didn't come home. I hit her usual party joints but I couldn't find her. I kept pressuring her so-called friends for days until finally I got the same name from several of them."

His voice filled with anger. "I held a gun to his head. He was a fool, afraid at first to tell me anything, but he knew I would gladly pull the trigger. He was just a pawn in their game, but he gave me enough to start working my way up their ladder to the top. I finally had the information I needed, but it didn't get me anywhere. That bastard's place is a fortress, nobody gets in without an invitation. I couldn't come up with enough proof to force the authorities to act on it. I suspect the local authorities, at least some of them, are in on it anyway. One way or another the pawn ended up dead in a ditch."

He looked up at her in surprise as she reached for his hand. "I knew she was in there, a few well placed bribes confirmed it, but I couldn't do anything Hannah. Not a damned thing. I watched and waited for months, until one of the informants whose palms I kept greased told me she was going to auction. I couldn't go, wouldn't have been able to sit there calmly bidding on my sister, so I sent someone in my stead. I bought her back from them, paid cash to the monsters who had raped and tortured my sister. Human lives mean nothing to them. It's all about money and power."

He stopped as if he didn't intend to go on. She feared asking, not sure if she wanted to know the answer, but finally prompted, "How did she die?"

He wiped an eye, blinking away tears. Somehow that scared her even more. "They broke her. She was stubborn, vibrant and voracious, throwing herself into life with a passion up until our parents' death. I didn't think it was possible, but I was wrong. By the time I got her home she was nothing more than a shell of the person she once was. She wouldn't talk to me, but she journaled. I got her the best professional help possible, we all thought she was making progress. A couple months later I walked into the bathroom and found her. She'd downed two bottles of her medication, washed it down with vodka, and slit her wrists."

They sat in silence for awhile, neither one of them sure what was left to say. The girl broke the silence first. "I doubt my family is even looking for me. They probably think I vanished on purpose. We were never close."

He flipped through the file again, withdrawing a flier and setting it in front of her. Her picture was featured prominently at the top, underneath it was a banner offering a $25,000 reward. "They papered the town with them. Your hometown as well, and it's all over the Internet. One reason you are such a huge liability. They certainly didn't think your family would cause such a fuss. I'm still rather surprised they agreed to sell you, untrained, to a new owner. He didn't anticipate me agreeing to his asking price up front. They're watching both of us closely, you know. They call almost daily, demanding updates on your progress. Of course I won't be telling them about last night. They can't ever know you tried to run, or they'd reclaim you in an instant."

"They'd really ship me to Asia?" she asked him nervously.

"In a heartbeat," he confirmed.

"I don't suppose they'd settle for twenty-five thousand dollars?"

He chuckled. "My sweet Hannah, with them that kind of money buys nothing more than a bucket of water and a few rags. You have no idea what you are worth."

"You didn't buy a slave just to free me, did you? You're obviously looking for revenge, you must have a plan."

He nodded. "I'm going to bring him down. Bring all of them down if I can manage it."

She looked at him askance, "You weren't going to tell me. I'm just a means to an end."

He smiled at her guiltily. "I didn't intend to. Getting emotionally involved definitely was not part of the plan. You, my sweet Hannah, are a frustrating, dangerous and entirely too endearing distraction."

She leaned her head against the palm of her hand, not sure if she had been complimented or insulted, before asking her final question. "She liked the scent of strawberries, didn't she?"

Surprised at the seemingly random question he glanced at her curiously before nodding his head.

"I prefer lavender," she declared.

"Duly noted," he responded at last.

She spent the rest of the night journal in hand, while he continued working his way through the file, reviewing his copious collection of notes. As the clock struck midnight he approached her with a glass of water and two small pills in hand. "Your sleep cycle is probably screwed up after that nap and you need to rest."

She rolled her eyes as she reached for the pills. "You mean you still don't trust me not to run."

"Not entirely," he confessed.

She looked at him, carefully evaluating his mood, before responding. "We'll bring the bastard down James, but we'll do it together. Deal?"

"Deal." He reached out his hand as if to shake hers, but when she grasped it instead pulled her to her feet and suddenly into his arms. "Your bed or mine sweetheart?"

"Yours. But no touching," she insisted firmly. He deposited her by the bedside.

"Should I change?" She glanced toward the drawers.

"Nope. That shirt looks good on you. Though you look even better without it," he hinted.

"No touching," she reminded scoldingly as she burrowed under the covers.

"No ma'am," he responded as he stripped to his sweatpants and climbed into bed beside her, carefully drawing her into his arms. "Oops, does this count as touching? I'm afraid I don't follow orders very well.

Her content sigh was his only response, and finally they both slept soundly.