I’m terrified of falling, of breaking something or hurting myself and being left to bleed in the dark. But I obey.
Step by step, I lower myself. My hands leaning on each step above me for support. And then it hits me,my handbag. I don’t have it.
What if Daniel’s been calling me? Of course he has.
The thought steadies me.He’ll know something’s wrong. He’ll go to the police.
This nightmare will end.
Soon.
It has to.
‘We’re at the bottom,’ the man says, breaking into my thoughts. ‘Don’t move.’
I hear a door open.Oh God, where is he taking me?My heart starts racing.
‘Where are you taking me?’ I ask, my voice croaky. My mouth is dry from fear. He pushes me forward, and a clean smell hits me.
‘Don’t turn around until you hear the door close,’ he orders me. ‘Do you understand?’
I nod. He unties my hands, and I rub them together to relieve the numbness. Then he removes the hood. For a moment, I’m blinded by bright lights and have to wait for my eyes to adjust. I hear his footsteps and then the sound of the door closing. I look around in astonishment.
‘What the…?’ I mutter.
My eyes widen in surprise at the opulence of the room. It’s like stepping into a glossy magazine spread, an interior designer’s masterpiece. The king-sized bed, adorned with a designer bedspread, is reminiscent of something I’ve seen in an interiors magazine. The matching cushions are positioned just so, creating an air of elegance. White fluffy towels have been placed on the edge of the bed. A plastic jug of water and paper cups sit neatly on an oak coffee table at the foot of the bed. On the left side of the room is a cosy sofa, again with matching cushions. It’s surreal: is this some twisted joke? Will Danny burst in at any moment, champagne bottle in hand?
But then reality kicks in. The steel door, handleless and impenetrable. A Yale lock that needs a key I don’t possess. No windows, no escape. Panic rises within me, and I swallow, but my mouth is as dry as sandpaper. I pour water from the floweryplastic jug, tears streaming down my face. Luxury or not, I’m trapped, and fear grips me. What kind of nightmare have I stumbled into?
The flowery plastic jug is similar to the picnic jug we have at home, and memories of Danny, Joel, and me picnicking on Hampstead Heath come flooding into my head. I wipe away the tears and sip cautiously from the cup. It tastes okay, so I drink three cups in succession. My brain is buzzing with questions. Who kidnaps someone and then keeps them in the lap of luxury?Maybe this is a dream, and I’ll wake up soon. Perhaps I’m at home taking a nap before we go out…
My head still aches from the lack of oxygen caused by the hood being pulled over my head. I look around for my bag and remember I don’t have it. I see another room to the right of the bed. It has a shower and a toilet. I look for a cabinet, hoping there might be some painkillers. But the walls are bare. There isn’t even a mirror. This makeshift bathroom is too bright for my eyes and I search for the light switch, then realise there isn’t one. Returning to the main room, I find no light switches there either, just a gap where they used to be.
It's while I’m searching for them that I see the note attached to the wall. Next to it is a phone, and my heart surges with hope. I pick up the receiver, but there’s no dial tone, and to my disappointment I see there is just one button. It’s a bloody intercom, not a connection to the outside world. I slam it back down, frustrated and angry. I then read the note.
The lights go off at 10 p.m., on at 8 a.m., breakfast is at 8:30, lunch at 1, and dinner at 7. Stand back from the door at these times. The room has air vents, water in the fridge and snacks in the coffee-table drawer. If you need anything, push the phone button. Books and magazines are in the bedside cabinet. There’s also a change ofunderwear. You’ll find soap, toothpaste and a toothbrush in the bathroom.
If it weren’t for the steel door, you’d think I was in a fancy hotel on holiday. My stomach twists into knots. How long is he planning to keep me here?
I tell myself this man isn’t going to hurt me, but a tiny voice in my head whispersDon’t be so sure.
Above the note, at the very top of the wall, is a clock. It’s now six p.m., one hour before dinner. I look frantically around for something I can use as a weapon. The coffee-table drawer holds chocolate bars and crisps. The jugs and cups are made of plastic and polystyrene. I’m not going to do much harm with those.
Even the toilet roll isn’t on a holder; a pile of rolls sit on the floor. It’s a push-button flush, so no luck there.
Then I hear a muffled sound from above. Someone is talking. I strain my ears, but the words are inaudible. I think I can hear only one voice, so he must be talking on the phone. Is it about me? I listen intently at the steel door, but I can’t understand what he’s saying.
There’s no way out. I slide to the floor and begin to cry. Joel will be getting in a state, wondering where I am. Daniel has never been very good at calming him down. Surely somebody knows that I have been brought to this place? The police will surely have some leads by now.
The man who kidnapped me has already shown a gentle side. I wipe away my tears and pull myself up into a sitting position. I need to target his caring nature. It’s my only chance of getting out of here – whereverhereis.
The place is as silent as a grave. The pounding of my heart in my ears is the only noise I hear. It plays a pulsating tune that I feel sure will drive me insane.
Angry now, I lift the phone receiver and push the button. The muffled talking stops. I wait, and then a voice says, ‘Yes.’
‘I’ve got a terrible headache. I need some painkillers.’
There’s silence.
