Take Me With You(18)
I focus on the rich smell of warm food across the room, and not the carnal feeling his hands provoke.
He walks behind me, I try to turn but he pushes my face forward, and then bends me at the waist, spreading my ass apart. He scrubs it with the sponge vigorously, cleaning away the filth I have been unable to.
He comes forward again, and from the bucket he pulls out a razor. I flinch in horror. He puts his finger to his lips and points at the food, reminding me what my compliance will produce.
A few tears drop as I quiet myself, but I shake uncontrollably, afraid he'll cut me with it, like he did with the knife. But instead he shaves me: my legs, armpits, and most of my private area. He towels me off, brushes my wet hair and squeezes out the excess water.
Now I'm a clean caged animal.
I don't have time to care about my dignity. All I can think about is eating and drinking. He walks over to the food and tosses the bag at me. I pull out the water bottle and chug on it furiously, then I grab a handful of fries and shove them in my mouth.
A hand grips firmly on my arm. He puts up his other hand. Slow down, he's telling me. I'm a little embarrassed that I'm eating savagely enough for my kidnapper to have to show concern. But not too embarrassed as I shoot him a rebellious glare and finish shoving that handful of fries in my mouth without breaking eye contact. I do take his advice and slow down on the next bite. Focused on the deliciousness of the food, I don't pay attention to the work he's doing around me. I assume cleaning up my mess, but when he rolls a TV in front of me, it catches my eye. He turns the dial to ABC and adjusts the antenna. The image is grainy, with a line of static rolling up the screen intermittently.
I wonder if this is some form of entertainment he's trying to provide as I crouch there, damp and naked, biting out of my burger. It doesn't make sense considering his brutality during our last encounter, but when the anchors stop talking about the weather, it's clear what he's showing me.
“And up next, the latest news on the abducted Sacramento-area nursing student.”
My stomach rolls with discomfort and I almost lose my precious meal.
“Who are you?” I ask.
No answer.
“What are you going do to me?”
No answer.
“Why won't you speak to me?! I've already heard your voice.”
He turns and leaves, keeping my foot chained so I have no chance of escape.
As many fantasies as I had of eating a banquet all by myself, my shrunken stomach already feels like it'll burst, so I place the burger back in the wrapper. I don't know when my next meal will be, so it would be dumb to discard the food.
We're back with you, live on the six o'clock news. The family of a nursing student who was abducted on Friday evening from her Sacramento home, while her fiancé and young brother were bound and locked in separate rooms, spoke today.
They cut to a clip of my mother, sobbing in front of a bank of microphones. Pete and Carter stand solemnly behind her, rubbing her shoulders. “She's a good person. She was—is—going to be a nurse. She has plans to do good things…help people. Please, I beg you, just let her go. You can just drop her off and disappear. We don't care. We just want her back.”
A man dressed in a beige officer's uniform takes the podium. He introduces himself as Sheriff Andrew Hunter-Ridgefield. He makes a brief statement that they are doing everything they can to look for me. He looks young for the position, and I wonder if he has what it takes to find me.
I look around for Johnny, but he's not there. They must have thought this would be too much for him.
I crawl towards the screen to get a closer look at Carter, the jubilance he carried on his face, no matter how tired he was, entirely gone. The chain yanks at my leg, keeping me feet away from the screen, so I am left reaching, but unable to touch the pixels that form my family. I had been complaining days ago about the burdens of a mother who made me become a mother to my own brother. A boyfriend who was almost perfect, but I had the audacity to believe not perfect enough. I fantasized about a monster over him, and now the fantasy is real. Maybe this is what I deserve.
The image of my family's press conference cuts away and back to the anchors.
Police are looking for this man.
On the screen is an almost comical sketch. It's a guy with a black mask. Two eyes and lips peek through. It's black and white, so there's nothing to indicate the color of his eyes. It could be anyone.
Police believe this is the work of the Night Prowler, who has plagued central California for about five years, first prowling and ransacking homes. However, police now believe in the past year, a rash of home invasions and rapes is the work of this same intruder who has grown increasingly violent.
It is believed he is roughly six feet tall with an athletic build. He may have a black sedan. It is estimated he is likely in his 20s. If you have any information regarding this case, please contact the Sacramento Sheriff's Office at…
Once the last sentence is being uttered, the man comes back downstairs and pulls the antenna off the set. Everything dissolves to snow and frantically I beg. “No! No!” I want to keep watching different news stations, see my family, and just be continually assured that I haven't been forgotten. But he doesn't give a shit and wheels the TV out of reach.
“Why did you do that?” I yell. “What was the point, huh? Am I ever going to see them again?” I ask.