Held & Pushed (2 book bundle) (6 page)

When I
opened the door, Ron was standing there, just as he’d said he would be.
A madman of his word.

He smiled
at me, took my wrist in his hand, and snapped the cuff around it. I followed as
he led me to the kitchen and once again hooked the handcuff to the underside of
the table.

“I’m sure
you’re hungry,” he said. I watched as he pulled items from the refrigerator and
carried them to the counter by the stove. “Do you like scrambled eggs?”

I thought
of not answering, but decided I was too hungry to ignore the opportunity to
eat. “Yes.”

With his
back to me, he nodded. “Good. While I cook, I see no reason we can’t continue
our conversation from last night, do you?”

I rolled
my eyes, knowing that he couldn’t see me. “Sure,” I said, unenthusiastically.

“Very well.
Did
you attend college?”

“Yes.”

“In what
field do you have a degree?”

“I don’t
have a degree. I didn’t finish college.”

He glanced
back at me over his shoulder. “You didn’t finish? Why?”

“My mom
got sick and I had to go home and take care of her. After she died, I wasn’t
interested in school anymore. I never went back.”

“That’s a
pity. You said you were married. Where did you meet your husband?”

“He was
the friend of a friend. I met him at my friend’s birthday party.”

“How innocent.
When was that?”

“Seven
years ago.”

“Do you
love him?”

“Of course.
Why
would I have married him if I didn’t love him?”

“I’m not
saying you didn’t love him at one time, but many people fall out of love. I was
just inquiring as to whether you still loved him, after seven years.”

“Well I
do.
More now than then, in fact.”
It pissed me off to
have this asshole asking me personal questions, but if it kept him calm, I
would suck it up and push through. Besides, I knew there were far worse things
he could be doing to me other than prying into my personal history.

“Do you
believe that he loves you as much as you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you
think he’s searching for you right now, as we speak?”

I imagined
Wade and what he must be going through. I had no doubt that he was devastated.
We’d never been apart. I’d never failed to come home, nor had he. We went to
bed together every night, and we woke up next to each other every morning. We
didn’t fight, we didn’t argue, though from time to time, we disagreed. My heart
sank as I thought of how sad he must be.

“Yes, I
do.”

“Do you
think he’ll find you?”

I could
tell by the way he stopped what he was doing and studied my face that my answer
would be pivotal. Quickly but carefully, I weighed my answer. I wasn’t sure
what to say, but I felt that I should say no. Ron thought he was smarter than
other people and if I said my husband would find me, he would be furious, feeling
as though I thought he was too dumb to outsmart my husband. He may even move me
to another location, one not nearly as nice as this one.

“Probably
not,” I said.

He smiled
and nodded. I sighed, relieved to have answered his question correctly.

He carried
two plates to the table and set one in front of me. The aroma of the eggs and
buttered toast made my stomach rumble. He sat across from me, and we began to
eat. I didn’t have to ask why I was eating my scrambled eggs with a spoon and
he had a fork. It was obvious. A fork was a weapon. And though I supposed I
could possibly put out one of his eyes with the handle of the spoon if I got
really lucky, I knew that wouldn’t happen. Even if I did manage to cause him
sort of damage with the rounded utensil, I was still handcuffed to the heavy
table.

“Is it my
turn to ask you questions yet?” I asked after the first bite.

“I suppose
that would be fine.”

“Where
were you born?”

“Milwaukee.”

“Is that
where you were raised?”

“No. My
family moved around a great deal, so we were never in one place for long.”

“Was your
father in the military?”

“No.”

“Then why
did you move around so much?”

“My father
was a criminal and always on the run.
Milk?”

“Yes. Did
your parents fight a lot?”

He was
quiet for a moment as he poured us each a glass of milk. I thought he wasn’t
going to answer, but as he handed me a glass and returned to his seat, he said,
“My father seemed to think of my mother as a punching bag. He beat her more
days than not, and never for a good reason. It was always something like her
spaghetti was too dry or her hair was out of place.”

“Why
didn’t she leave him?”

“A mother of six?
Not likely to happen. She had no way to support so many children, so it was
easier for her to endure my father’s beatings than try to make it alone in the
world with such heavy baggage.”

He took a
couple of bites without saying another word.

“Did he
ever beat you?”

“Yes, many
times. He beat each of us.
Except the girls.
Their
punishments were far worse than a beating.”

I knew
what that meant so I left it alone.

“Were you
a good student?”

“Yes, as
good as one can be with a home life such as mine. I studied hard and made good
grades. I had no friends. I was never one place long enough to make any.”

“Did you
go to college?”

“No. I was
too busy working to support my family. I had barely enough money for us all to
eat, much less waste on college.”

“You seem
pretty educated, though. I mean, you talk better than most people.”

He nodded.
“Yes, I suppose I do. That’s years of hard work and practice. I learned a long
time ago that if you want people to take you seriously, you can’t walk around
looking, acting, and talking like you have no proper upbringing. I may have
been raised in a poor, abusive household, but I certainly don’t want people to
look at me and see it.”

I opened
my mouth to ask him something else, but a scream stopped the words from
forming.

Looking at
Ron, I couldn’t tell if he’d heard it or not. Surely he had. There was no way
he couldn’t have. It was loud. It wasn’t until he shook his head slowly while
staring at his plate that I realized he had.

“Is that
the woman in the basement?”

“I’m
afraid so.”

“Why’s she
screaming?”

“Because
she hasn’t learned her lesson yet,” he said with a hint of anger. “I’ve told
her many times that I can’t have her screaming like that. If the neighbors were
to hear her, I could get in a lot of trouble. Yet she insists on screaming. I
suppose I shall have to punish her again.”

Afraid to know
but more afraid not to, I asked, “By punish her, what do you mean?”

He looked
up at me and chewed slowly. “Are you sure you want to know? It isn’t pleasant.
I wouldn’t think someone as beautiful and innocent as you would be interested
in such atrocities.”

I wanted
to know and I wanted to tell him as much, but I also didn’t want him angry at
me for being something other than what he thought I was. I got the distinct
feeling that it would send him into a rage like none I’d seen so far. Besides,
I probably didn’t want to know.

“You’re
right. I don’t want to know.”

He nodded
and said, “I thought so. Let’s just hope you never have to find out.” Seeing
the look on my face he added, “When I brought you here, I had every intention
of putting you in the basement with her. But I so enjoyed your fire that I
decided to keep you up here with me. The basement is no place for a woman like
you, a woman I like so much.”

“Has she
always been down there?”

He nodded.
“From the moment I brought her here. I didn’t even want to bring her home with
me, you see. She kept insisting on it, so finally, I brought her with me. I
knocked her out when I pulled into the garage, and I carried her downstairs.
When she woke, she fought a good fight. It excited me, I have to admit. She’s
got spunk, like you. But her spunk is only to benefit herself. She only wishes
to be free. I’ve tried many times to strike up a conversation with her, such as
we’re having now, but she’ll take no part.”

My
appetite was fading now, and I ate slower as I listened to him talk.

“I do miss
good conversation. It gets so lonely around here with no one to talk to. I have
so many ideas and no one with which to share them. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“If you
long for companionship, why don’t you marry?”

“I was
married.
To a wonderful woman.
But she didn’t
understand me. She wasn’t a very good conversationalist anyway.
Not nearly as good as you.
She wanted to talk about shopping
and hair and clothes. I care nothing of those things, and I certainly don’t
want to waste hours of my day talking about them. Not when there are far more
important matters at hand.”

The woman
in the basement, Stephanie, screamed louder and louder until Ron couldn’t take
it anymore. He threw his fork onto his plate and stood. As he stomped his way
out of the kitchen, threw open the door to the basement, and pounded his way
down the steps, I wished there was a way I could warn her that he was coming.
Better yet, I wished there was a way I could help her escape.

Moments
after the screams abruptly stopped, the doorbell rang.

My heart pounded
and I opened my mouth to yell for help. That’s when Ron’s hand came from behind
me and clamped down over my mouth. He whispered into my ear, “If you say one
word, I’ll kill your husband and child. Do you understand?” Slowly, he took his
hand from my mouth.

“You don’t
know where I live,” I said with the fire he liked so much. “So how can you kill
anyone I know?”

He smiled,
and in an even voice said, “In your purse is a driver’s license. On that
license is an address. At that address resides your husband and child.” He went
through the kitchen and into the living room to answer the door, leaving me at
the table where I sat silently until he returned. I would do nothing to
jeopardize my husband and son. He knew that. This was how he was going to hold
me here.

When he
returned, I asked, “How do you know I have a child?”

“Seriously, Nicole.
You’re a smart woman. I find it very unattractive for you to pretend to be
dense.” He washed his hands at the sink. While drying them on a paper towel, he
turned to me. “You really don’t know how I know?”

I thought
for a second, but I couldn’t find a way he could’ve known.

Tired of
waiting for it to come to me, he said, “In your purse lies a pacifier. Either
you have a bizarre obsession or you have a child. I choose to believe the
latter. Am I wrong?”

I shook my
head.

“I thought
not. I believe I’m right about you, Nicole. We are going to do great things.”

I was afraid
of what he meant by that.

Chapter 9

For the
next month, my days were filled with the same routine. I was released from the
bed, allowed to shower, fed breakfast, and spent the day trapped in conversation
and cards. Sometimes we played board games, but mostly just cards.

Ron had
changed the way he handcuffed me to the bed. My arms were no longer straight
above my head. Instead, they were angled outward toward the corners of the
headboard. It was better, but every morning, my shoulders and neck were stiff
and sore, and ached for the biggest part of the day. I didn’t complain about it.
After all, I was being held captive. If that’s the worst thing I went through,
I’d consider myself lucky.

On days
when Ron had to leave the house, he handcuffed me to the bed. He put my arms in
the usual position, and he even stretched my legs out and handcuffed each ankle
to the footboard. He then used a pink bandana to gag me, saying I sure did look
pretty in pink. He would stroke my hair and tell me that he hated to do it, but
he still couldn’t trust me while he was away.

Ron watched
my every move. When I asked him about it, he told me he was studying me for the
book. When I asked how that was coming along, he said he hadn’t started it yet,
but was close. I was close too.
Close to losing my mind.
I was trying to keep it together, hoping that if I could keep him satisfied
with conversation and company, he’d write the damn book and let me go. I pushed
away any thoughts that said otherwise.

Stephanie
continued to scream from time to time in the basement. It always angered Ron,
who stomped down there in a huff. Moments later, Stephanie fell silent and each
time, I wondered if he’d killed her. I knew enough about him now to know it was
only a matter of time until it happened. As selfish as it was, I couldn’t help
but wonder what was going to happen to me after he’d killed her. Would I take
her place? Would he begin to do the things to me that he apparently enjoyed
doing to her? I hoped not. But I just didn’t know.