Monica winced as light flooded the room, cutting into her brain and stinging her eyes. She had lost all track of time, falling in and out of consciousness, gratefully accepting the blackness as respite from the terror she was unwilling to comprehend. She realised that at some point she had wet herself, but it was a calm acceptance as her grasp on reality weakened. Somewhere deep within a voice was telling her to struggle free from her bindings, but every time she tried a wave of nausea passed over her, and the thought of choking on her own vomit terrified her more than being left in the basement to await her fate. And now, as bare feet descended the stairs Monica forced her eyes open in order to plead unblinkingly at the person who put her here.
‘Hello, Mother,’ Lucy said, brightly, as if she was meeting Monica in a coffee shop rather than having her tied to a chair in the basement of Lucy’s home. ‘Did you have a nice sleep?’
She was wearing a fluffy towelling robe, with blue and white striped pyjamas underneath. There was something about her hair… Her fringe was crooked. Monica peered, noticing for the first time that she was wearing a wig. The woman’s make-up appeared hastily applied in the same style as Monica’s usual look: dark kohl-lined eyes, arched eyebrows, and baby pink lipstick. But today, as the fairy lights blinked red and green, her face looked gaudy, like a freakish circus clown.
Monica’s nostrils flared to accommodate her panicked breaths as Lucy dug her fingers into the side of her jaw.
Turning Monica’s face to one side she surveyed the damage. ‘Ouch,’ she said, sucking sharply through her teeth. ‘You’re still bleeding. That’s got to hurt. You should have been nicer to me, then I wouldn’t have had to knock you out.’ A small titter escaped her lips. ‘I forgive you now, though. It was just the shock talking, wasn’t it?’
Monica exhaled a muffled groan; her eyes rolling to the back of her head. The darkness was dragging her back down, deep into the abyss. Three sharp slaps stung her face, and Monica drew back her head to avoid the fourth.
‘That’s better,’ her captor smiled, her teeth stained with bright pink lipstick. ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to fall asleep in company?’
She’s mad, Monica thought, snapping out of her stupor. Fresh tears blurred her vision as the words rebounded in her mind. This person is insane.
‘That’s more like it,’ Lucy said, drawing back her hand. ‘Are you listening? Or do I need to slap you harder?’
Monica whimpered from under the spit-drenched gag.
Lucy wrinkled her nose. ‘You are a stinky mum. Have you wet yourself?’ She tutted. ‘That just won’t do. You’ve got a very special visitor coming today. But I have to warn you: she likes everything just right. She’s a lovely little girl, and she’s so excited about seeing you.’
A visitor? Monica’s heart accelerated with hope. If someone else was visiting, perhaps they could persuade this crazy woman to let her go.
Lucy pushed up her sleeve and checked her watch. ‘I must get dressed. Things to do, people to see. Now, how about a hug?’
Monica stiffened as Lucy wrapped her bony arms around her. Her towelling robe smelt of fabric conditioner, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent of everyday life.
Lucy pulled away. Her robe was stained with snot, tears, and a delicate dribble of blood. ‘Aww don’t look so worried. You’ll be just fine. I really like you, Monica. I want you to be the one.’ Lucy cocked her head to one side like a bird examining a worm. Her voice fell into a conspiratorial whisper as she risked a glance upstairs. ‘But you only get one chance. Don’t mess it up.’
What was she talking about? Monica recalled the recent news broadcast of a woman who had been found murdered in the area. First her husband and then, days later, her body was found. She shuddered. It couldn’t have anything to do with Lucy, could it? Was Lucy really her daughter? Monica looked at her, pleading with her eyes. If only she had been nicer to her when she knocked on her door, or better still, not answered it at all.
‘Are you hungry?’ Lucy said, standing back with her hands on her hips.
Monica slowly nodded, each movement delivering hammering blows of pain. Anything to remove the gag from her mouth, if only for a few precious seconds. She had to speak to her, to tell her whatever she wanted to hear. And as crazy as it sounded, she did not want to be left alone. If she could just get free and apologise, then perhaps she could persuade Lucy that this had all been a horrible mistake.
As if reading her thoughts Lucy shook her head. ‘Later. You can have a drink later. I don’t think it’s a good thing that we talk to each other right now. I’m very cross with you, Mother, and I don’t know what I might do. Besides, I’ve gone to all this trouble and I know this little girl is very excited about meeting you. So take my advice, and don’t make the same mistake twice. Be kind and get the words right. I can’t face any more disappointments.’
More disappointments? Monica trembled with fear. The stains on the floor. The pungent smell. Lucy wanting her to be ‘the one’. As opposed to what? The others that had failed? Where were they now?
Lucy turned and climbed up the stairs. The light flicked off, plunging the room into darkness – the silence punctuated only by the sounds of Monica’s sobs.