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And no one knew where she was. If they did – if someone had seen the man pick her up – they would have come to rescue her by now. The fact they hadn’t meant that they weren’t coming at all.
She could be here for a long time.
She could be here forever.
And when she thought about it like that, she was overtaken by a panic that left her curled into a ball on the bed, trembling, her eyes wide open and her mind blank with fear.
When she wasn’t consumed by panic she was thinking about her parents and brother and friends and what they were going through. She could picture them all: James would be quiet and withdrawn, keeping his feelings to himself. He’d always been like that; often he would be worried about something at school or with his friends and he would deny there was a problem over and over, until eventually he would come to Maggie’s room and lie next to her and tell her what had happened.
She was the only person who could calm him down. And now she was gone.
Mum would be angry and tearful and fierce, and Dad; well, she worried about him the most. Mum loved her and James with total devotion, but Dad’s love went further. He depended on them. His kids were what gave his life meaning. His own father had died when he was young and his mum had not seemed to cope very well. Maggie didn’t know exactly what had happened, because he never talked about it, but she didn’t think he had had a particularly happy childhood, and he had made up his mind to make sure the same didn’t happen to his kids. He was never too busy for them, never had anything to do which was more important than whatever it was they wanted from him. All her life he had been there for her, calm and patient and reliable and loving. If she was interested in something, he explained it; if she wanted to help him wire plugs or change the oil in the car or put up shelves, he told her how and put the tools in her hands and watched as she did it. And he kept her safe, always.
She had no idea how he would cope with her disappearance.
That was what made her angriest about the man who had taken her. He didn’t care what he did to her family, didn’t care whether they became depressed or split up or committed suicide. All he cared about was getting what he wanted.
Which was her, in a cage.
She hated him for that. Not for wanting her, but for his selfishness and what it was doing to the people she loved.
And now, on top of it all, she was hungry. She was going to have to take food from him.
She heard the scraping noise. Her heart rate sped up; she felt the first fluttering of panic, a tightness in her chest. She sat up on the bed. Seconds later, the door opened.
The man stepped inside.
He was not holding a tray. He did not have food or water.
He looked tired and irritable.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’ve had quite the afternoon, Fruitcake.’
Maggie looked behind him, wondering whether he had brought a tray and put it down and she had somehow missed it.
He followed her gaze, frowning.
‘What is it?’ he said.
She didn’t answer. He looked at her, his expression at first questioning and then, slowly, understanding.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You want something to eat. Well, I’m afraid that’s impossible.’ He scratched his nose, then inserted his finger into a nostril. ‘I did make something, but I had to eat it.’
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to hear this. If there was no food she wanted him to leave. Then there was no chance of him doing what he’d done the night before.
‘Do you want to know why I had to eat it?’
Maggie shook her head.
‘Don’t be like that! It’s interesting!’
Maggie shuffled backwards on the mattress until her back was against the wall. She hugged her knees to her chest.
He folded his arms. ‘The police came. They were looking for you.’
She blinked, looking at him.
‘Don’t get your hopes up, though. They didn’t have a warrant, and they have no reason to suspect me, other than the fact they always suspect me. They don’t like me, you see. I let them have a look around so that they’d go away. I knew there was no chance they would find this place!’
