I’m so frightened. Ever since Mr Evans left this morning, I’ve been trying to think of a way out of here. What happened in this room earlier has changed everything. The way he looked at me, the menace in his eyes and the realisation that he’s dangerous has caused me to completely re-think my situation.
I need to get out—but how?
I’m a victim of my gullibility, and I wonder if my father knows by now. I shiver as I think about the picture Mr Evans took of me. My face burns and my body heats as I imagine how he’ll feel when he sees me so vulnerable and afraid. This is all wrong and the more I think about it, the more I see this was never right. If these men are from the police, why lock me in this room like a prisoner? Why not let me have the run of the house and why deposit bags of food instead of allowing me to fix my own meal?
All day long I worry about him returning. Normal life goes on all around me and I look enviously at people who don’t know the horror being played out a few feet away. Would they help me, or would they look away? I’m not sure because I know a lot about people looking away.
My childhood wasn’t the same as those boys who live opposite. A pleasant garden to play in, toys and freedom. It scared my father to let me out because our neighbourhood was the sort of place you sprinted to your flat and bolted the door against people who wanted everything you have. Drugs, prostitution, and poverty. They were normal in Triton towers and the screams mingled with the sirens as yet another body was spirited away, another investigation launched and another life ruined.
It’s why we came to Brighton. It’s why my father did what he did to ensure our safety, and it’s why I’m sitting here now. He went against the code. He stepped outside the lines drawn by society and dared to stand up to the bullies.
What he saw bought us our freedom, but that’s a joke because there is no freedom for either of us—not yet. Not unless he plays his part and delivers on his promise, then they will deliver on theirs. A new identity, a new home, a new life, far away from the desperate one we’ve run screaming from. But now everything’s changed because of him—Mr Evans. He looked at me as if I was dirt under his shoe. Disposable and a pawn in a dangerous game. The thought of my father seeing me stripped and vulnerable makes the tears fall and the shame set in. I’m not stupid, I know how these things work, I’ve lived among it all my life.
I heard the whispers in the hallways at the local comprehensive. Girls spoke of parties they were taken to in exchange for money, drugs and a little affection where they never had it before. I listened eagerly as they giggled in the girl’s toilet. Speaking of things that would make your hair curl and your heart almost give out. The only thing girls had in my school of any value was their body, and there were endless chances to use it for monetary gain. A ticket out of hell by selling their souls to the devil. It happened—a lot, and I avoided it myself. It wasn’t for me and yet here I am, waiting for Mr Evans because the look in his eye told me my fate had been sealed. That room with the camera, the black sheet on the bed, I knew as soon as I saw it, this is no safe house.
Darkness falls and my stomach growls, reminding me my body continues to operate even though my mind is scrambled. The creaking of the garage door lifting alerts me to the fact he’s back and my heart races so fast I’m hopeful on it giving out on me.
Clutching my hoodie tightly around me, I almost hyperventilate as I hear the dull echo of his footsteps on the wooden floor below. Then it changes as his feet hit the carpeted steps of the staircase, bringing him closer, bringing my situation to a head.
My mouth goes dry as I hear the key in the lock and blind panic sets in as it inches open and he slides in, filling the space with threat and terror.
“Here.” He throws the bag at me and instinctively my arms reach out to catch it and he says in a dull voice, “I’ve no time for you tonight, so be grateful I’m feeling in a good mood.”
He turns away and I stare after him in surprise. Thank God, he’s leaving.
Just before the door closes, I hear another sound, a muffled groan and the sound of movement below and I strain to listen as the door slams shut behind him, effectively cutting off any sound.
Quickly, I move to the door and press my ear to the wood and listen for any sign we are not alone.
Muffled voices reach me and I press my ear to the crack under the door to listen.
Whoever is here is whispering because there is more than Mr Evans out there.
The sound increases as whoever’s downstairs makes their way upstairs and I make out a few words, “Hurry!”
Somebody groans and I hear an object being dragged and then a door slams.
There are voices from down the hall but that’s all I hear and I wonder what’s going on.
I’m not sure how long I sit by the door, but it feels like hours as I listen for anything that will enlighten me. Then I hear footsteps heading my way and I race and stand by the window, nervously playing with my fingers as the key turns once again.
Mr Evans heads into the room looking as if he’s run a marathon. Gone is the self-assured detective with no emotion, and in its place is a man on the edge of something I can’t quite place.
He looks at me with an interest I hoped would have gone away and says darkly, “Move away from the window.”
Nervously, I step to the side and he snarls, “You know the rules, you stay hidden and if anyone sees you, you may as well be dead. Don’t make me handcuff you to the bed because I’m starting to think that’s the best idea.”
He advances towards me and I shrink under his lustful gaze because there is interest in his eyes as they burn right through my soul, stripping me of any dignity I have as his intentions become clear.
As he reaches me, he grabs my wrist and pulls me roughly against him and I smell sweat mixed with alcohol and a scent I can’t place. I want to wrinkle my nose in disgust because it’s a pungent odour that I’ve never smelt before and as his arm hooks around my waist, he pulls me against his body and growls, “I’m getting tired of this shit. Your father is not playing by the rules, and so I think it’s time we do the same.”
His hand moves lower and he grabs me hard and growls, “I’m done with this. My patience is wearing thin. If your father doesn’t cooperate, then this ass is mine. I will teach him not to mess with me and you will pay the price for his mistake. I’m almost tempted to show you what that means right now, but I have a job to do and don’t have the time.”
Before the last word leaves his lips, I hear the distinct sound of someone moaning further down the hall and his head whips towards the door and he says irritably, “Great, that’s all I need.”
He pushes me away and says roughly, “Our visitor is waking up, that’s very inconvenient.”
“Our visitor?”
My voice shakes and he laughs dully, “Yes, the newest addition to our happy house. Unlike you though, she won’t be staying.”
He moves away and then something makes him stop and as the moans increase, he turns and I see a wicked glint in his eye.
“Do you want to come and say hi?”
He holds out his hand and I shrink against the wall, fearful of what I may find.
In two steps he crosses the room and grabs my hand, roughly pulling me after him and as I stumble, he wrenches my arm causing me to bite my lip as I feel the pain.
As we head towards the room I went to yesterday, I struggle to breathe as the moans intensify and as he pushes open the door, I see the room bathed in artificial light that almost blinds me and then as my eyes adjust, the fear strikes an arrow to my heart as I see a girl tied to the bed, naked and bruised. She is blindfolded and gagged and her legs and arms are tied to each bedpost and she moans in pain.
The video is running and trained on her and Mr Evans pulls my head around roughly to look at her and whispers, “This is what happens to girls who disobey me. This is what will happen to you if your father doesn’t play ball, and this is how you’ll end up if you try to escape. Stay away from the window, keep your mouth shut and you may just escape this fate. Put one foot wrong and your punishment will be a lot worse.”
The tears blind me as I realise something I suppose I’ve always known. I’m not safe at all, Mr Evans isn’t a policeman and this place isn’t a safe house and if I’m to stand any chance of surviving, I need to escape and fast.