Chapter 10
TEN
ROMAN
What the hell is she doing?
This whole time, I’ve believed Maggie is just my slightly awkward, nerdy neighbour, but it turns out she is a full-blown maniac.
I try once more to move, sweat forming on the back of my neck with the effort. Nothing happens. At a push, I can move my eyes, but that’s it. My limbs lay useless against the floor, like lumps of meat. I can’t defend myself, and the vulnerability of that has my stomach knotting.
Maggie blabbered about a wedding, but this is extreme for going to a fucking wedding. No, this is Misery level wild, and images of her tying me up somewhere remote, and keeping me, run through my head. Is this the end? Is she a serial killer preying on next-door neighbours?
The ability to turn my head is gone, and I can’t defend myself, but I can occasionally see her from the edge of my vision. Despite never having been in my home, she knows where everything is with a comfort level that increases my panic.
‘Almost done,’ she says, her voice sounding far calmer than it had before. Chilling. How could she be so cool when she’s attacked me? ‘I wish you could talk to me. You’ll be able to when I get you in the car and switch to the other sedative. That one at least gives you use of your head.’
You crazy bitch.
Yelling at her inside my own head is, of course, fruitless.
She breezes through to my room and back, adding my toothbrush and toothpaste to the bag, before holding two aftershaves, going from one to the other.
‘Which do you prefer?’ she asks, before giggling. ‘You can’t say, can you?’
Crossing the room, she kneels beside me, all wild frizzing hair and freckles. Using all my might, I try to lash out at her. To convince my body to cooperate. It doesn’t.
Leaning down, she places her face close to my throat and… sniffs. Rage fills me with a hot flush. I hate being immobile. Useless.
She then smells both of the aftershaves before grinning. ‘The blue one. Perfect.’
I narrow my eyes as best I can, trying my hardest to be the most intimidating I can. Maggie watches me before lifting a hand and resting it against my jaw. My skin burns beneath her touch, and I want to rip her hand away, but can’t.
‘I promise I’ll bring you back in one piece, Roman.
You only need to behave. It’ll be ten days, and then you’ll be home, and I can disappear from your life.
You can go back to fucking strangers and lying about it online, and I’ll go back to doing anything other than becoming the person my family demands.
It’s not much to ask. Not really. I need this. ’
My mouth dries out as I realise she knows exactly who I am. Exactly which lies my life is built on. Despite my anger, a wave of shame washes over me.
‘Sorry, Roman. It has to be this way. The less you fight it, the easier it’ll be on both of us.’
Removing her hand, she stands and picks up my bag.
‘I’ll be back in a minute, need to go put this in my car.’
The moment the door closes behind her, I try once more to move.
If only I can get something to defend myself…
or roll in front of the door to block her access.
But my body declines to cooperate. It’s like someone has severed the connections from my brain to my limbs.
Like I’m a marionette with cut strings. Limp. Useless.
Then she’s back.
Leaning over me, she pats down my pockets, finding my phone and turning it to my face to activate the Face ID. She spends a few minutes typing before placing the phone on the counter, plugging it into the charging cable.
‘We don’t want anyone tracing your whereabouts to my family home. That wouldn’t end well for anyone. I’ve cleared your schedule and told everyone you are taking a few days off. I’ll still have access to your emails—so don’t fret, I can sort out anything that comes up until we get you home.’
Crossing the room, she closes the window, goes around the room and switches off the sockets here and there.
Leaving the trusty fridge and the phone on.
She leaves my keys on the counter, flashing me one on her keychain.
‘I’ll leave those here in case we lose them.
I’ll let you back in with mine when we get back. ’
Is there no end to her complicity? The violation hits me harder even than the sedation.
Maggie places her hands on her hips and looks my supine body up and down.
‘Now how the heck are we going to do this?’ She murmurs.
First, she pins open the door, before coming to my head and squatting. With a great load of grunting and huffing, she pushes my upper body to sitting, sliding her arms beneath my armpits.
‘Jeez, you’re so fucking heavy,’ she complains.
Well, sorry, I haven’t built my physique to make kidnapping easy.
Inch by terribly slow inch, she drags me backwards toward the door until eventually, she slumps me against the wall outside my home. Her breath comes fast, her chest rising and falling in quick succession, like a rabbit that’s recently run into a sharp-toothed cat.
‘How the heck am I going to get you all the way to the car?’ She isn’t really asking me, looking exasperated, sweaty and annoyed.
After catching her breath, she resumes dragging me slowly toward the rear stairwell, pausing at the top to curse.
‘I’d roll you down, but I’m really trying very hard not to have my wedding date bruised like a peach that’s got lost in the bottom of a kid’s backpack.’
I guess I should be thankful for that.
Turning us both, she pulls me down the stairs headfirst. My upper body is protected by the way she holds me, but my feet bounce down each step, and I watch them utterly unattached. It’s like they belong to someone else.
Maggie’s breath is hot against my cheek, her mutterings and curses leading us down the steps.
I take some small solace in how difficult she’s finding it. Glad my kidnapping is at least tiring the weirdo out.
‘God, damn.’ She whines. ‘I should have kidnapped the skinny guy from the bottom floor.’
Wish you had.
‘But he’s got too many cats. Can’t leave them alone for so long.’
Each word comes with a huff of hot breath.
The dirty concrete fire stairs look different from my point of view than they ever have.
Most times I’d used them, it was escorting women up to have a night of anonymous sex, spending the steps up kissing them and keeping their eyes on me to stop them from making any mental notes that would have them finding me again.
And now… Maggie’s dragging me down them like an oversized rag doll.
After what seems like forever, we make it to the rear alley, and rain hits my face. I react to it without thinking, my hand closing into a fist.
I moved.
I MOVED.
The sedatives must be wearing off, given how long it’s taken Maggie to get me downstairs.
I don’t have enough movement to get away, so I remain limp, intending to look weak until I have the strength to escape.
It takes every ounce of willpower to avoid tensing my fist as we struggle into the carport. I bite my tongue as she humphs and hauls me into her little blue car, fastening me into the passenger seat with a click of the belt.
‘Fucking hell,’ she groans, leaning her forehead against the cold metal of the doorframe, her cheeks bright red from exertion. ‘You’re going to have to walk when we get home, because there’s no way I’ll get you back up there.’
There will be no getting home with her. I’m going to bide my time as she drives through London, and as soon as I can use enough of my muscles, I’m going to throw myself from the car in the busiest spot available.
The people will call the police, and I’ll get her crazy ass thrown in jail.
Then make a podcast.
The views will be wild.
Maggie closes the door and leans back against it for a few minutes. I work my fingers, finally feeling them again. My arms still won’t lift, but I can turn my head a few degrees to the left and right.
Nearly.
Fifteen more minutes and I think it’ll be enough.
Maggie moves to the driver’s seat, sitting heavily and gripping the steering wheel.
‘I’m not made for this.’ Her words tinge with bone-weariness.
I flick my eyes to her, taking in every detail.
She doesn’t look like how I imagine a kidnapper to look.
Surely there should be a spike of excitement at catching her prey.
Adrenaline. She looks somewhat sick to her stomach if I’m honest. Worried.
Anxious. Her fingers are white where she’s so tense.
The car starts with a slightly worrying grind, and she puts it into gear.
‘I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but here we go, I guess,’ she mutters.
Moving forward a few metres, she brakes.
‘Sorry, I almost forgot.’
I watch as she opens the glove box and pulls out a syringe. My pulse spikes, and I move my hands, fighting against the still ebbing sedatives. She pushes it into my thigh and presses the plunger.
‘I’m so sorry. I really wish I didn’t have to do this, but I don’t think you understand yet. Hopefully, I can explain during the drive. Because I absolutely can’t keep drugging you when we get to my dad’s place. At that point, you need to be up for the game. Otherwise, we’ll both regret it.’
‘Stop,’ I manage to croak.
‘Oh, Roman. I wish I could. Do you think I want any of this? No.’
The injected fluid rushes through me, deadening any movement from my arms and legs.
London passes by, the last vestiges of escape passing in a sea of glittering lights.