CHAPTER THREEMary Jo
Mary Jo
A few evenings later, I sit on video chat with Carissa, wine drunk on the couch and talking about our next vacation spot for the hundredth time.
“Bitch, I’m telling you, Mexico is next. Forget Florida.” Her voice slurs a little.
“I’m so down” I laugh. We’ve visited every state between Ohio and Texas where she is and she’s always ready to chase that next spot with me. As I put my empty wine glass on the coffee table, a tingly feeling rolled down my back. I shiver. This damn house and its drafts.
“Maybe we can find you a hot woman down there.”
I looked back down at the brunette woman on my screen. “Kyle flipped out last time, remember? He said girls kissing is hot but when I kissed a girl on New Year’s he cried for two hours.” I was no longer seeing two of her, but the alcohol still warmed me pleasantly.
“Yeah, well, Kyle’s a fucking weirdo.”
I grunt, wrapping my fleece blanket around me for another chill.
We talk for a while longer, then I sign off, exhausted.
Since Kyle is at work again I turn off the lights.
My bedroom is right off the kitchen and I turn that light off last and drop into bed.
I scroll online mindlessly and at some point, pass out.
***
A heavy weight clamps over my mouth, and I startle awake. I blink in the dark, trying to figure out why it’s hard to breathe. There’s a weight on my chest. No, not a weight. A person.
I scream. It’s muffled by the weight on my mouth.
A low, unfamiliar voice chuckles in my ear. “Easy kitten. Relax, and this will go easier for you.”
My heart rate begins to pound. What’s going on? Who is this? I kick and make contact with something.
His weight continues to press into me, even heavier.
I kick harder while trying to thrash and try to get my hands up.
I’m crushed under him, but I get one hand up and immediately try to plunge my fingers into where I think the asshole’s eyes should be.
I get a chuckle and a hard knock to the side of my head that stalls me for a second.
“Or you can fight. I like it better that way.” His voice is low and unconcerned. The weight removes from my face for a second, and something burns in my neck. I scream again, thrashing and throwing my head up toward the man’s shadowed head.
I make contact. Something warm and sticky drops into my eyes and over my cheeks and he shifts on me.
My right hand is semi-free and I rake my fingernails up to his head and make contact with clothes.
I try again and feel my head begin to spin.
Am I still drunk? I rake my fingers down again and get a grunt of pain followed by a growl of a laugh in my left ear.
“Get off me, bastard. I’m gonna kill you.”
“Now now, Kitten. It’s not nice to threaten people.”
Rage surges through my blood, hot and heavy. The spinning gets more violent. I swing my right hand again, beating down on where I guess his ribs to be. My arm starts to move slower and lighter despite my maximum efforts to pound him into the wall next to my bed. It feels like I’m in a bad dream.
“Relax. Let it do its thing.”
“Let what do its thing…prick…bastard.” My tongue feels heavy in my mouth. I keep swinging, only to realize my hand is barely moving. The dark shadows above me swim. I taste blood.
“Good girl.”
I growl out an insult but it doesn’t come out as comfortable warmth surrounds me. I get cocooned in relaxation. I pop my head up to get away but it sucks me back under and darkness envelops me.
***
Pain sears through my skull. My mind spins, and my throat is raw. I clench my eyes shut, not ready to let in any light.
Holy shit, I really outdid myself on the drinking. I’m going to have to tell Carissa to cut me off next time.
I blink open my eyes. I’m laying down, and there’s a wooden wall in front of me. I blink a few times. I don’t recognize where I am. What the -?
My gaze darts to the right side of the room. I’m on a small bed in a small…bedroom? Light pours in from behind me and I crane my neck to see a small window with blinds pulled closed.
Something shifts on my left. I jerk my head around and see a man relaxed in a chair, watching me. He’s big and muscled with dark tattoos down both arms. He appears in his early thirties with dark hair and light stubble on his jawline. His dark eyes flash.
“Hello, Mary.” His voice is gravel.
I jerk upright, causing the spinning to start again.
“I’m not – who are you?”
“Your given name – Mary. Mary Jo Hall. You hate it, so you go by your middle name.”
I squint. “How did you know – who are you?”
He shrugs. “Prick bastard, according to you.”
That flashes a memory in my mind. Struggling. Pain. It all rushes back and a surge of rage fills me.
“You mother –” I jerk forward, seeing my hands wrap around his throat in my mind. My body abruptly stops with my ass on the edge of the bed. Sharp pain jerks my right hand to a halt. I look down. I’m cuffed to a short chain that is wrapped around the bedpost.
“Yeah, sorry about that. My eyes are pretty, and I wanted to keep them.” The man stands and leans in with a sneer.
“Mary Jo, 29 years old. Makes videos reviewing food. Got popular by creating meals under five dollars. Just paid off your Honda Civic, used to work at a few factories, now an influencer. Two loving parents, Steve and Heather, no siblings, best friend Carissa, and a boyfriend who works for Knight Security. Your favorite color is blue, you masturbate every night because your deadbeat boyfriend won’t get it up for you, and you have no pets because he won’t let you. ” His dark eyes stare into mine.
I simply stare at him. He has long dark eyelashes that contrast with an otherwise hard and masculine face. I have no idea how he knows all that. Fear tries to break through the anger. My heart flutters, and I pull in a breath.
He must see the shift. He smiles deeply. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Good. Now there are a few rules. One. If you try to attack me again, I’ll hurt you. Two. I won’t hurt you if you listen to my rules. So listen to my rules.” He leans closer and instinct tells me to back up. I glare at him instead. He’s inches from my face.
“Three. If you run, I’ll punish you.” His breath brushes my face and smells of mint. “We’re miles into the hills with no cell service and no neighbors except for black bears and coyotes.”
Miles into the hills? How far from home did he take me? We only had cornfields and beans where I was from. So many questions bounce in my brain.
He waits, watching my eyes.
I focus on him and narrow my eyes in return.
“So…no Doordash?”
Something flickers in his expression then he returns to his blank stare.
I should be afraid. Fear is battering at my anger, trying to take over. I don’t let it. Not right now. Not in front of him.
He steps back and straightens. He’s a tall motherfucker, at least 6’2”. And built. He could easily fold me in half and break me.
“Think about the rules, Mary.” He walks to the door on the right side of the small room.
“Hey–”
He walks out and slams the door.
I sit stunned for a second. Then I scramble up on the bed again and examine my right hand which is shackled to the frame.
The metal cuff is snug against my wrist but not enough to pinch.
The other end is secured to a thick chain which is padlocked firmly to the bed frame.
I have about a foot of slack. I hop off the bed and see the metal frame bolted to the floor.
What the hell?
I look around again. Near me is an empty plastic bucket and two bottles of water.
The rest of the room is empty besides the chair he was sitting in.
No nightstands, no lamps. Just the door and the bed.
I turn to the window and look out the blinds.
It’s daytime. The sun is shining on a small clearing, maybe fifty feet from the window, and then woods.
I crane to see to left and right. Just out of view to my right is what looks like a shed or garage.
To the left is a dirt driveway that extends into the woods.
I feel around the window as best I can, with limited movement from my right hand.
It’s small but big enough for me to crawl out of.
The latch opens but when I try to push it open it doesn’t budge.
I look around more and see it’s been nailed shut.
Fuck.
I turn back around. What the hell is going on? Is he going to rape me? Why did he keep calling me Mary? I don’t know this man from Adam. I’d definitely remember him. Did I piss somebody off recently?
I stare at the door and think back to my recent videos.
None were controversial. I got the normal hate comments but my moderators take care of most of those before I see them.
Fuck. Had this man been one of those commenters that got blocked and removed before I saw it?
Also, how did he know so many things about me?
I fiercely guard my personal information online.
I rub my face. Little dark flecks fall into my hand. Blood. His blood from the struggle.
Holy shit he knew about me masturbating. What the actual hell?
My heart races.
He was in my home. While I slept. Is Kyle okay?
I look down at my clothes. I’m in the same leggings and pink tank top that I fell asleep in. I have no shoes or socks. With massive relief, I realize that I don’t feel sore anywhere but my head. Not that that means I’m safe.
I sit on the edge of the bed.
What the fuck does he want me for?
I don’t have money. My parents sure as fuck don’t have money.
The longer I sit and think, the more worried I get. I don’t like the reasons I could be here. He said he wouldn’t hurt me but I don’t believe him for a second. He was trying to get me compliant. So I would…do what?
I sit and stare at the wood wall opposite the bed. I stare and stare. Shadows move across my lap. The room is silent. I hear the heat kick on every now and again. I count the headache pulses in my head rhythmically. The counting drowns out the questions.
The room begins to grow dark. I snap out of my stare-down with the wall, and my heart kicks up again. There are still no sounds outside the door. I glance at the water and the bucket. There’s no bathroom.
That arrogant fucker expects me to piss in the bucket.
Rage fills me again. I won’t do it. I’ll piss all over his floor before I piss in that damn bucket.
The room gets fully dark before I grab a water.
I examine it all over, looking for tamper marks.
It’s fully sealed and nothing comes out when I squeeze.
Reluctantly I open it and take a sip. Instantly it cools my mouth and fills me with thirst. I suck it down, not realizing how thirsty I was.
I’m going to make it out of this, I decide.
I’m going to play whatever game I have to in order to win this.
I wait all night for him to come back in. I fall into fitful sleep sitting straight up, my empty water bottle in my hand like a weapon.
He never does.