The Sister(181)

‘I know sweetheart, I know, but when something hurts you,’ the thickening in his throat caught his voice, ‘think about happy days and shake it off. It works for me.’

She opened her eyes, wiped them, and rolled closer to the bars. Her dad had marched through hell to get to the other side. He just kept going. Her thoughts touched on the mystery of their suicide pact. She still couldn’t bring herself to believe he’d just given up. He’d have never done that. No matter how bad things were, he’d have steered them out, carrying her mother with him on his back and holding Stella’s hand. Why did you have to persuade him to do it, Mum? She steeled herself. I have to get out of here!

She crawled to the bars that imprisoned her. From what she was able to see under the curtains, she was in a box within a box behind a caged wall, beyond that was a locked door.

While waiting for him to come with food, drink and her next fix, she positioned herself so she could see beyond the curtains from different angles when he drew back the curtain. A gleaming polished pole ran between floor and ceiling in one corner. Too substantial for a pole dancer’s; it was more like a fire fighter’s pole. It had thick rubber crash mats at the foot of it. So far, she’d not seen what was at the top of it, there was obviously a doorway onto it from upstairs.

Why would you have one of those in your house?

She soon became aware she wasn’t the only woman held captive. There were others, but they never spoke until he was out. When the mouse-squeak of a step on the stairs was followed by the sound of the front door closing shortly after, the voice of the ‘Urger’ would start.

Stella couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying; she seemed to be trying to get the other woman to talk to her, but she wouldn’t. This continued until eventually the Urger was warned to be quiet. There wasn’t any conversational flow. One would urge, the other would warn.

The voices came from above her.

He clearly kept them separated from each other. She imagined from the muffled level of sound that there were at least two doors between her and them. She decided to take a chance and called out into the void beyond the curtain. ‘Hello. Can anybody hear me?’

She waited for an answer; the silence hung for what seemed an eternity. She called out again, louder this time. ‘Can anybody hear me?’

The Urger’s voice whispered cautiously. Although barely audible, her words were unmistakable. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Shush!’ the Warner’s voice insisted.

The front door slammed, cutting the tentative exchange short.

He was back!





Chapter 143



Without a word, Martin stripped off and went straight into the shower. A few minutes later, he emerged with a towel around his waist and a devilish glint in his eye. ‘Here, Cath, look at this.’

She stared at the protrusion; her expression remained impassive, but the apprehension she felt filled with her with dread. She said nothing.

‘Jesus, this is the first time since,’ he said, removing the towel. ‘Look at that!’

She’d known it was only a matter of time. He brushed past her and returned to the bathroom where he removed a key from the pocket of his discarded jeans. Her eyes followed him. He stopped at Eilise’s door and unlocked it.

She knew she had to do something. ‘Martin, it’s been such a long time.’ She took him in her hand, stroking.

He shoved her to one side. ‘Get out of my way; I’ve kept her waiting for long enough!’

She leapt onto his back wrapping her arms and legs around him. He stumbled one, two, three steps, and then regained his balance. He twisted around and launched backwards, crashing her against the wall. The collision knocked the wind out of her, but she hung on. He reached back over his head and grabbed her hair. Her nails dug deep into his hand as she tried to release his grip. With his free hand, he opened the door and pitched forwards at the waist, almost taking her scalp off as he threw her over his shoulder into the void. As she fell, she grasped in vain at the pole.

He thought he heard a sound behind him, hesitating; he listened intently at Eilise’s door and then relocked it. He stooped to where his jeans lay, replaced the key in the pocket, and then drew the belt out from the waistband. In three strides, he crossed the room, wrapped himself around the polished steel pole and slid down after Cathy.





The sudden unlatching sound of a door opening reached Stella’s ears. Low grunts of exertion, followed by the cry of a woman in pain, the rustling of clothes and the scrape of feet dragging across the floor above.

‘No, Martin!’ The intensity of the voice startled Stella. She held her breath, afraid of what might happen next.

Something thudded onto the crash mats. Stella gasped at the sight.

A woman laid there, crumpled, her back towards Stella. She whimpered pitifully.

Stella pressed flatter on the floor and lifted the edge of the curtain. A grating sound, metal on metal rasped down the pole. A pair of booted feet dropped into view and landed square on the crash mat.

Stella withdrew, terrified he’d see her.

‘You know what you’re going to get now, don’t you?’

She whimpered louder.

‘Martin, please,’ she implored. ‘I was jealous. I’m sorry. Oh, Martin, my leg. It really hurts.’ Her vowels sounded as if her tongue were a large pebble. Maybe he’d hit her there.