Ev
I love my son. There is no doubt about that. Sometimes, he is hard to like. I guess I am hard to like at times as well. My parents and my son have a hard time liking me so I must be hard to like, right? I was in my own thoughts not paying attention to my surroundings lost in my thoughts about the evening. I pulled into the apartment complex and was getting the keys out to unlock the door, when I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head. I tried to turn to see what had hit me, but the world was spinning and I felt the light in my small part of the world fading; then there was nothing.
When I awoke, I thought I must be in the hospital. I didn’t know what was going on. My head hurt so badly. I tried to reach up and rub the back of my head but my arms wouldn’t move. They were already above my head. I yanked and struggled against the restraints but my arms wouldn’t move. I was thinking maybe I had been committed. I had finally lost it. I thought back to November when I left Thanksgiving heartbroken by the way Donnie had treated me. I had considered ending it all that night. My heart was broken. Had I had a mental breakdown? Is that why I was restrained?
“Hello, Evelyn,” a male voice said. “I am sorry you are restrained but until I know you better it is for the best.” I heard a deep breath escape the man. “I am wondering if you are cold. I am sorry you are only in your underwear but my reasons for that are selfish. I wanted to see your body. You run so much I was wondering if it was trim. You aren’t as trim as I would have thought, but that is okay. I like women with curves. You also have a great deal of stretch marks. Have you lost and gained weight quickly at times in your life? Is that why you have them." His fingers traced my stomach. "It is almost like a road map."
My throat was scratchy. “Excuse me, am I in a hospital?” I was so confused.
A deep laugh escaped his throat. “No.”
“Where the hell am I?” I asked. I didn’t understand what was going on. My head was pounding, his laugh made it worse; and my throat felt like sand paper.
His hand caressed my face. “You are in my cellar. You are mine now.”
I screamed as loud as I could with my scratchy throat. “Let me go. I don’t belong here. Let me go.”
He lay beside me. “You aren’t leaving me. You are staying here.” He caressed my hair. He whispered in my ear: “I went to a great deal of trouble to get you and you are going to be all mine.” His voice was breathy. I could smell his breath. It smelled of Listerine.
I realized that this person had to be the neighboring man that Dug was talking about. I screamed and screamed until I passed out.