Ev
My heart leaped in my chest when I heard the tap on the small window. I stood up and looked out to see my boy, my baby-Donnie. I couldn’t believe it. My heart swelled with a love so overwhelming it physically hurt.
“You can’t be here,” I told him through the glass. He was crying. I knew I looked horrible. I never wanted him to see me like this. “You need to go.”
He put his hand against the window. I put my hand through the bars and against the glass. I started crying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Mom…”I heard him say. He made the sign of I love you with his hand. I did the same. I smiled weakly at him. “I’m going to save you,” he said. His face was set and angry. This scared me.
“Don’t,” I said. “He will hurt us both if you do something, Donnie.”
“The cops don’t believe us,” he told me. I could barely make out what he was saying through the glass. He picked up a rock. He tapped on the glass to crack it to help with our conversation. I looked up the stairs and made sure my keeper wasn’t coming down the steps. “They have no proof they say and they don’t believe a kid and a man with Down’s.”
“I know,” I said. “He told me he saw you, Donnie. I am so scared he is going to hurt you.”
He looked me straight in the eye. “Mom, are you sick?”
I laughed slightly. “Can’t fool you, can I? I am. I have an infection, that’s why I have this damn IV hooked up to me. My hand is broke too. Donnie, you have to figure out a way to get the cops to believe you. You can’t go up against him. He’s crazy. He will hurt you and that will kill me. I love youso much. I wouldn’t be able to live if he hurt you. Please, promise me.” I was bawling by this time.
“Mom, he will never think that I would fight him. You have to let me try”
I looked him in the eyes. “He is evil, Donnie. He would kill you just to spite me. Please don’t. “
Donnie looked around outside and I looked around in my dungeon. I was so scared that my captor was going to come barreling down those stairs and go after Donnie.
“How are mom and dad?” I asked him.
“They miss you, Mom.”
I so badly wanted to hug my son. “I miss them too and I miss you, Donnie. I am so sorry about everything. I am so sorry I’m not the mom you need.”
He started crying then. “I’m sorry, Mom. I am so, so sorry.” He wiped his running nose on his shirt. “I wasn’t nice to you.”
“Don’t worry about that. I just want you to know I love you more than anything. Let mom and dad know I love them too.” I told him. “Don’t ever forget that I love you.” I wanted to hold him. I wanted to caress his hair. Take in the smell of him, like I did when he was small and held him next to me. Those moments I wouldn’t trade for any amount of money; the smell of baby soap and lotion on him and his sweet smile.
“Mom...”
I smiled weakly. “I’m not giving up. I am going to get out of here. I am. I won’t have the strength to do it if something happens to you. You have got to be careful.”
“I’ve got to save you,” he told me. More tears were welling up in his eyes. “I haven’t been fair or good. I’m so sorry. I am so sorry.”
I looked back at the stairs. “You have to go, Donnie. He will eventually be back.”
Donnie was bawling now. Tears and snot pouring from him. “I don’t want too. Please, don’t make me.”
“Go, now.” I told him. I could hear my captor pacing upstairs. “He is pacing. He will be back to check on me soon. I can’t scream to draw attention to the window. The room is sound proof. He’s kept me drugged some of the time. Donnie, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are my heart. Go and be safe.”
Donnie got up off the ground. “I love you, Mom.” He mouthed and took off running.
I sat down weakly on my bed. I wanted to cry but was out of tears. I wanted to run, but was chained here in a shit hole. I know that I’m sick and hurt, but my mind and soul had been re charged from seeing Donnie and I was going to get out of this somehow.
The door opened to the basement and my capture walked in casually, as if I was a spouse waiting for him and not a victim chained to a bed in a basement. He sat beside me and sighed deeply.
“I’ve been thinking,” he told me. “I think it is time for you to tell me you love me.”
My jaw dropped. I could not tell this monster I loved him. I had not told another man that I loved them since my ex-husband. Those words were words were sacred to me. I didn’t use them carelessly. “I can’t tell you I love you yet. I don’t even know your name.” I said calmly.
He bent toward me and kissed me on the cheek. “That is true. You don’t know my name, but does that really matter?”
I smiled coquettishly. “Yes, it matters to me.”
“Well, it shouldn’t after all we’ve shared. We’ve made love. I’ve taken care of you while you are sick.”
“Yes, you have, but you also have forced me to make love to you and you are the one who made me sick,” I said calmly. I was seething inside. This man was acting as if we had a relationship that was founded on passion, kindness and trust, when it was founded on terror.
He hand flew up and slapped me hard across the face. “You ungrateful bitch!”
I stared at him, refusing to cry; refusing to be a whiny victim for his enjoyment. “You can have my body. I will never love you. Never. I don’t give that to men who torture and rape.”
He slapped me again. My eyes watered but still no tears of hurt and sadness. He grabbed my broken hand and squeezed. I felt nothing. The hand was damaged beyond repair. “It’s ruined.” I told him. “I can’t feel anything. Just like I don’t feel anything for you. You are nothing.” I told him maliciously. I spit at him. “You are shit to me. Shit! Do you hear me?”
He looked at me coldly. He wiped the spit from his brow. His pupils were dark and angry. I knew this wasn’t going to end well. I knew that something horrible was about to happen. My pride and my smart mouth were going to get me killed. I just could not tell this monster I loved him. I would not. Love, even if lied, was not something I was going to give him the satisfaction of hearing. He calmly got up off the bed and went upstairs. He returned a few minutes later with a meat cleaver and a cutting board.
He also had what looked like a flamethrower along with gauze under his arm. Whatc kind of wacko just happens to have a flame thrower? Apparently, THIS wacko.
He grabbed my broken and mangled hand, laid it on the cutting board and began to cut at the wrist. “If it is dead anyway, you don’t need it, right?” He smiled with manic delight. I looked him over, once again he had an erection poking through his pants. Blood splattered his face, his clothes, my face and my bed. The thing I noticed most was how white his teeth seemed with all that blood on his face. His teeth were as white and pristine as fresh snow. I began to scream.
Then I laughed.
I screamed and laughed insanely until I passed out.