Chapter 43 #2
They dragged me down steps into an underground cellar beneath the house.
With each step, I kicked and fought, trying to get free.
It was dark down here and the place smelt of damp, mould, and something else metallic.
It seeped into my lungs like a virus spreading through me, and I coughed, panting as I tried to breathe in the stale air.
There were four dirty mattresses on the floor, covered in brown stains, and chains coming from every corner.
They dragged me to a mattress in the far corner and forced me onto my knees.
Then, I felt almighty pressure on my arms as they lifted them up and started to cuff them, tethering my hands to the chains on the floor.
I kicked out, trying to fight them, but it was no use. I was powerless.
When they’d secured my wrists, they yanked on the chains and pulled my arms above my head, forcing me to fall onto the mattress I was kneeling on. The metallic smell hit me harder as my face fell forward.
“Roll her over,” one of them said, and I kicked out blindly, desperate to fight to get free.
Weight I couldn’t fight against pinned me down by my ankles, and I felt the cold metal clamp over my left ankle first. Then they pushed me, shoving me onto my back before chaining my right ankle.
I was trapped on a dirty mattress; I couldn’t move or sit up.
When I tried to yank on the chains, the rough, rusty metal burned my skin.
And tears stained my face as I begged, “Please let me go. My dad is a police officer, and he’ll be here soon.
If you let me go, I’ll tell him not to press charges. ”
The three women standing around me laughed.
“What do you say, Jilly? Shall we let her go now? I mean, we don’t want to get into trouble with her daddy.”
The woman she’d called Jilly smirked. “Your daddy’s not gonna save you now, little girl,” she said, shaking her head at me, and the others cackled.
“Angela, I think we might make his day if we show him this.” Jilly gestured to me. “He’s coming here later to sort some things out. When he sees her, we’ll be in his good books forever.”
They all nodded, and then the three of them walked away, climbing back up the steps. Not once turning around when I cried out for help.
And then, the hatch door slammed shut, bathing me in complete darkness, and I screamed. I screamed so loud my voice became hoarse and my throat stung.
But I couldn’t stop.
I would never stop.
I don’t know how long I lay on that stinking mattress, tears soaking my hairline as I whimpered and begged the darkness to help me. I needed to go to the toilet so badly that I eventually wet myself, because I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
No one came to bring me water. No checked that I was okay or even tried to help me. And I started to think that maybe this was the end for me. I’d die in a darkened cellar, on a mattress soaked with my wee, and no one would ever find me.
Was this what’d happened to Stacey?
Did they leave her down here to die?
I started to think about my family. Scared that I might never see them again.
Why hadn’t I listened to my dad, and let the authorities take care of this?
Regret hung heavy in my heart, pulling and contorting every part of me until I was struggling to breathe, and I started panting quicker, my mind going fuzzy as stars danced in front of my eyes.
In the distance, I heard the sound of a key fitting into a lock, and then a door to the side of me opened and light flooded the cellar.
“She’s having a panic attack,” a woman’s voice announced.
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” another woman replied.
I blinked, trying to focus so I could see who was standing over me. As I did, one of the women cackled, “I bet you’re regretting knocking on our door now.”
I’d cried so hard I felt faint. Screamed so loud my head pounded. My body was weak from the lack of water, but I still pleaded, “Please,” as my throat stung from the effort of trying to talk.
“You should’ve left well enough alone,” the woman I recognised as Doris from the garden said.
I had to remember these names and their faces.
Jilly.
Doris.
Angela.
When I got out, and I would get out, I’d need to tell my dad who they were and what they did.
“If you let me go now, I won’t tell anyone I was here,” I begged, and the front door lady, who I’d heard them call Angela, said, “It’s too late for that, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere now.”
I was shivering from the cold, my lungs ached from the harsh, stale air and my efforts to cry for help. But when a man appeared in the doorway, a burst of energy to escape raced through me, and I tugged hard on the chains, scuttling as best I could across the mattress to get away.
“What do we have here then?” he asked, taking slow, measured steps into the cellar.
“We thought you might like this one,” Angela said, smiling a sickly-sweet smile at him. “She came calling earlier, asking for Stacey. Then we found her loitering in the garden, trying to break in.”
“I wasn’t,” I sobbed. “Please let me go. I won’t ever come back here again.”
The man tutted and shook his head. I was chained to a filthy mattress, but he grinned like it was nothing as he said, “But you found our playroom.” He tilted his head and grinned wider. I wanted to throw up. “We can’t let you go now. Not after seeing this.”
I shook my head violently, refusing to give up. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. I’ll go home. I won’t ever come back.”
“Her father is a policeman,” Angela announced, and the man laughed.
“Even better. I love fucking with the law.”
The man came closer, and I tried to get away, but the chains held me in place. He knelt at the bottom of the mattress and took a pair of scissors from his pocket.
I cried so hard I was hiccupping, struggling to breathe, and when he reached forward and shoved my skirt up over my hips, I shook with pure terror. He slid the cold metal scissors under my underwear and cut them off. I was petrified. But I couldn’t get away. I was trapped.
He grabbed my knees, and I struggled against him, but he was too strong, and he forced my legs open, humming when he saw me, and he told the women, “This one’s special. I don’t want to do it here. Take her up to one of the bedrooms.”
He stood up, peering at me with lascivious eyes as the women knelt down and uncuffed my arms and legs. I tried to make a run for it, but they held onto me so tightly, I couldn’t even put my feet on the floor, and they carried me from the cellar, through the open door, and into the main house.
The house felt empty as they took me upstairs. I screamed and struggled, cried and begged for help, but no one heard. No one cared.
“You wanted to know what happened to Stacey,” Angela whispered in my ear. “You came here to get answers.” I hung my head as we reached the top of the staircase, and they carried me into a small bedroom. “Well, now you’re going to get them. You’re going to find out exactly what happened to Stacey.”
Isaiah had his arms wrapped around me as I relived the story I never wanted to remember and couldn’t ever forget. I don’t know when he’d started holding me, I was so lost in the vile memory that I hadn’t even noticed. But I felt his strength, his warmth, and it spurred me on.
“They raped me, in that room. They held me for hours, it felt like days, and they took it in turns to hold me down while he violated me.” I swallowed down the bile in my throat.
“I thought I’d die in that room. Part of me wished I had.
They told me they’d done the same to Stacey, and that she’d been sent away.
Sold to someone else who could enjoy her the way they were enjoying me.
They told me they’d sell me too. I didn’t think I’d see my family again. ”
I felt his arms tighten as he rocked me slowly and kissed the top of my head. But he didn’t speak. He let me get through it.
“Eventually, he got tired, said he was taking a break and left the room. They loosened their grip on me, and I took the chance, the only chance I knew I’d get.
I bolted off that bed, raced to the door, and ran down the corridor.
I flew down the stairs and thanked every one of my lucky stars that when I got to the front door, the key was in the lock and I could open it.
“I ran out into the street, naked, bruised, sore, aching, covered in blood and filth, and I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting away.
“There was a wooded area opposite the house, and I ran into it, not caring that the rough ground tore at the skin on my feet, and the bitterly cold wind nipped my skin like a thousand snake bites. Nothing could compare to the pain they’d inflicted.
And as I ran, I heard him calling out, ‘Come out, come out. We’re gonna find you. ’
“I didn’t stop, I kept going, my only focus was on getting home.
To run to safety. I could hear his voice close by, taunting me, ‘You won’t get away.
I’ll always find you,’ and then it started to rain.
My feet started to slip against the wet ground as I tried to run, but the more the rain poured, the harder it became.
And then lightning struck, lighting up the wooded area, threatening to expose me.
“He was laughing, I was frantic. And I saw a small gap in a tree trunk and decided to climb inside. I picked up mud from the ground and smeared it on my skin to help hide me, and I waited, barely breathing as I hid in that tree.
“My body was numb, my mind was too, but after a few hours, I climbed out of the trunk. I couldn’t hear anything, and I ran. I ran until my legs felt like they’d give away underneath me. Until woods and strange streets turned into familiar roads. And then, I made it to my street.
“I didn’t want my parents to see me; I looked a state. But I had no choice. I ran to the door, relieved when it opened for me, and then I raced upstairs as I heard my parents calling from the living room, ‘Abigail, where the hell have you been?’