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“Why do you always moan?”
“I want to go home,” I whisper. Something in the tone of his voice stops me from my usual pleading.
“You’re just like her!”
“Her?”
He glares at me, stomping over to my bed. He pulls roughly at the cuffs, grabbing the small key to unlock me.
“Why can’t you be her?”
I know from the look in his eyes he’s not even hearing me. I don’t even think he is truly seeing me as he unlocks my feet.
He hauls me roughly off the bed and my knees hit the floor. I cry out in pain, glancing up at him with wide eyes, my heart pounding as dread seeps in like poison.
This is it.
He doesn’t bother to wait for me to get up. Instead, he drags me across the floor to the shower he must have had installed recently.
I don’t know exactly where I am, if I’m in a warehouse, an old house, building or what have you. All I know is what I see. And that’s one room, no windows, a bed, a chest of drawers filled with nightgowns, and a dressing table with a mirror. The shower and toilet are right next to each other, the shower seeming newer than everything else in the room, including the toilet that has to be years old and never used or cleaned until I arrived.
On the dressing table is one brush, one hand-held mirror, and a bobble.
The only other furniture is in the corner, where the TV, two-seater sofa and coffee table are.
I grab the leg of the bed, stopping him from taking me further. He pulls harder, but when I don’t budge, he turns, his anger directed at me. He looks right through me, his expression thunderous as he kicks me in the ribs.
“Move it, now! You need to be better. You need to be! I’m the one who cares.”
“Let me go! I want to go home!” I scream, kicking his legs.
He grunts, grabbing my hair, and had I not let go of the bed, a chunk would have surely been ripped out by the force of his pull.
I scream. Even though my throat is raw, I scream for help, for my parents, for anyone to come save me. I pray and plead, but my prayers go unheard as he shoves me against the shower stall. My head smacks the tiled wall with a thud, and my vision blurs.
Too weak and a little disorientated, I don’t fight when he pulls me up, turning the shower on with both of us under the cold spray.
“Please, let me go. I’m not who you think I am. I’ve never even met you,” I cry, although he does remind me of a science teacher.
“You aren’t her! I need her!” he yells, his fingers digging into my biceps.
“Please, my name is Linda Cooper. I live with my parents, who I love and miss. Please, let me go.”
He shakes his head, and when his eyes meet mine, I flinch, taking a small step back until my spine is against the tiles.
His lips curls in a snarl as he takes a step forward, slamming his fists against the tiles on either side of my head.
I cry out, my eyes closing in fear. “Please, don’t hurt me. Please. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”
Cold fingers grab the hem of my dress, and in one swift movement, I’m standing naked in front of my captor.
My eyes snap open as I try in vain to cover myself, more tears falling down my face and blurring my vision.
“I’ve given you everything. Why can’t you be happy?” he screams in my face, spit splattering across me.
“Please, I want to go home. I didn’t ask for this.”
“You aren’t her. You were supposed to be her. You were supposed to be happy. But you’re not. You’re just a silly, ungrateful, whore. I need her.”
