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I know it's some kind of trick. He wants me to trust him so he can turn the tables on me. Sick bastard. But for the moment, he isn't lunging toward me; he isn't getting up from his spot on the ground.
So I take this time to get a better sense of where I am. It’s a plain gray cell, not really much to see. And actually there is one thing in here—a large mattress. It actually looks nice, like it recently came out of some upscale mattress warehouse. It isn't dirty or dingy, and it looks like it's comfortable. It's larger than a full-sized, but probably not a king. There are no pillows, sheets, or blankets, though.
The mattress is on the floor next to the guy, like he's guarding it. Behind him and to one side are heavy long chains bolted into the wall. I look behind me to find there are also heavy chains bolted into the wall behind me. I bite back the urge to scream or cry again. It won't do me any good. I have to try to keep it together.
There’s a slot in the wall that looks big enough to pass food through but not much else. And there’s a door that looks like it has a lot of security on it. But it's not the only door.
To my right, there’s another doorway. There’s no actual door on it but, instead, a bamboo beaded curtain that almost reaches the ground. Light streams out from it into the cell, and I realize suddenly that this other room is the only source of light.
“What's in there?” I ask, pointing in the direction of the mystery room.
“Bathroom,” he says.
I still don't believe this guy is another innocent victim. He seems way too large and in charge, and strong, to ever be in this kind of situation. But as long as he's going to pretend, I'll pretend with him.
“What's your name?” I ask.
He opens his mouth to speak, and suddenly the music shuts off and a dark, menacing voice enters the room through the speaker.
“No names!” he growls. “You will address him as Master.”
That's not Andrew, either.
The man's eyes widen at the same time mine do. He seems both shocked and disgusted by this suggestion from our mysterious captor of what I should call him. But neither of us addresses this. We sit uncomfortably, pretending these words weren't spoken.
But then my co-captive speaks. “Let us out of here, you sick son of a bitch! I will fucking kill you!”
The only response is a chuckle. “Yes, put on a brave show for the girl, but in the end, you will both dance for me, my little monkeys.”
There’s a part of me that wants to go to the other guy in the cell, as if he can protect me from all of this.
The voice crackles over the speaker again. “I will feed you when you've fucked her.”
Suddenly I'm glad I stayed where I am—as far away from the stranger on the other side of the cell as I can get. Not that that makes a real difference.
“Fuck you,” the man says. “I'm not going to rape her.”
“Okay. Starve then. But she'll starve, too. She's quite a little thing. I bet the hunger will get to her first. So you'll get to watch her die. Enjoy.”
It's no longer some great mystery why I'm naked and my co-captive isn't. I'm bait for the evil game of our captor. The music comes back on.
We both sit in stunned silence for a minute, staring up at the speaker in the ceiling, as if expecting the voice to return, but it doesn't.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say to the man in the cell with me. Even though I know he's seen me naked, I don't want to just get up and walk in front of him to the bathroom.
He nods, stands, and turns around. “Tell me when you're in there.”
I hesitate for a moment but then get up and cross to the doorway. When I push back the beaded curtain, I let out a gasp. I expected the bathroom to be just like the cell. Plain gray walls, maybe a metal toilet, a sink, and if we were incredibly lucky, a drain in the floor and a shower head.
But this is arealbathroom. Aluxurybathroom. This is the kind of bathroom only the very rich can afford. This room is probably twice the size of the cell, and the cell isn't tiny. I notice there is a speaker in here as well piping in the same classical music.
“Okay,” I say to the man in the other room.
I wonder why my co-captive isn't hanging out in here. I don't know what to look at first, but I settle on the roses. There’s a large bouquet of white roses in a vase on the marble countertop. The colors of the room are warm gold and cream. There’s a giant rain shower that can easily accommodate two people as well as an oversized jacuzzi tub. The actual toilet is at the back of the room in another sort of smaller room. There’s no door, just a curtain, but it does allow another layer of privacy.
I feel weirdly comfortable about peeing now because I realize with the distance, the extra enclosed toilet space, and the music, the man in the cell won't hear me. It's such a stupid thing to be concerned with right now, but still, it makes me feel marginally better inside the horror of this situation.
After I use the bathroom and wash my hands, I look through the cabinets. There are soaps and lotions and bath oils and bubble baths. No real help for escape here unless we can somehow MacGyver a bubble bath bomb.
