I woke, my eyes gritty and sore, my head pounding. I quickly realised something was over my head, making my breathing erratic. I snatched it off and a shaft of sunlight from a narrow, rectangular window close to the high ceiling almost blinded me.
I was curled up on the floor, and the piece of carpet beneath me stank of something unpleasant. ‘What the fuck?’ I jolted upright, shivering, though it wasn’t cold, and a lancing pain shot down my arm.
Horrible details rushed back: the bag being thrust over my head; me fighting, useless and pathetic in my drunken state; him seizing my arm, dragging me like a doll, something popping in my shoulder. He’d yanked me up and slung me over his back like a bag of tools. I’d screamed, but it was weak, barely audible and made no impression. He threw me in the boot of a car, and pain had shot through me as my head cracked on metal. I must have passed out. I had no idea how far we’d travelled, or where I was.
My eyes crawled round, adjusting to the light. The room was small and square, with roughly plastered walls and a concrete floor, the ceiling stained with damp.
What had happened? I’d got horribly drunk and kissed Greg. Oh God! The memory made me shudder. And I’d run off into the night like a teenager and made myself into a pathetic victim, like I had once before. Jake’s victim.
‘Don’t push me,’ he used to say, if I suggested meeting up with a friend from my old life, or getting a job. ‘You don’t know what I’m capable of.’
I blinked back frightened tears. I hadn’t thought him capable of this.
The room was filthy, hazy sunlight picking out clusters of dust and cobwebs in the corners. I struggled to move my throbbing head. An ironing board was propped in one corner, and there was a mop, a bucket and a broom near a sink. In the opposite corner were three wooden boxes of varying sizes, all padlocked.
I tried to think through my pain and fear. If I stacked the boxes, I could probably reach the window. It was unlikely from the size, but I could try to ease myself through it.
I strained my ears, but all I could hear was faint birdsong outside.
‘Jake,’ I yelled, staggering to my feet. Agony exploded in my shoulder and head, and the floor tilted towards me. I stumbled towards the heavy wooden door and turned the dull brass knob, but it wouldn’t open. ‘Jake, please!’ I called, banging the wood with my fist. ‘Let me out.’
Nothing.
I turned and slid down to the floor, holding my injured arm across my stomach. Slowly, the pain in my head dulled to a throb, but my mouth was parched and I desperately needed to pee.
Reality hit me with the force of a punch. I was his prisoner.
I let out a whimper as I turned my palm upwards. Blood had seeped through the bandage round my finger and it stung as it had the day I cut it in the pub.
I closed my eyes, thinking of Ella – my only hope. Would she have expected me to join her for breakfast? Raised the alarm when I didn’t turn up? In spite of what she’d said last night, I didn’t want to believe she would turn her back on the hope of a sister. I’d seen the desperation in her eyes. Tears stung as I remembered the awful things I’d said to her – the way I’d thrown myself at Greg. If she had packed her bags and headed back to England, I wouldn’t have blamed her.
But no one would know I was missing.
Alfie’s face floated into my head – lovely Alfie with his geeky glasses and cute smile. He’d be back from London soon. Would he try to call me, and worry if I didn’t get back to him? I knew it wasn’t likely. And even if it was, he didn’t know about my meeting with Ella.
I tried not to think about Reagan.
I turned and banged on the door again. ‘Jake! Let me out, now … please.’ It came out as a pathetic whine. ‘We can go back to Waterford,’ I went on, sniffing back my tears. He’d never liked me crying. ‘Everything can go back to the way it was, I promise. I’ll never leave again.’ The thought of being trapped with Jake, spending even another day with him, made my stomach heave. But it had to be better than this. Once home, I would plan my next escape more carefully.
The sound of a car approaching made the hairs on my neck stand on end. I rose as a door slammed, and I heard the clunk of a central locking system.
‘Jake?’ I looked up at the window, wishing it wasn’t so high – or so narrow. My heart leapt as a pair of man’s legs moved past. I was in a basement. ‘Let me out!’ I yelled.
He didn’t stop, and silence descended again.
A sudden determination rolled through me. Using my good arm, I dragged the two biggest wooden boxes – one looked just like a chest Celia used to keep Bryony’s toys in – and positioned them on top of each other under the window, wincing as my arm protested. I clambered onto them, and reaching up with my good arm, managed to flick the rusty catch free and push the window open a fraction.
‘Help!’ I shouted, hoping a passer-by might hear. ‘Help me, please. I’m locked in.’
Footsteps sounded behind the locked door, descending the steps. I jumped from the boxes and grabbed the broom. Keeping my back to the wall, I felt my way along until I was beside the door and waited for it to open, hearing the blood roaring in my ears.
There was a scrabbling noise, and a key slid under the gap at the bottom, with a label attached. I stared at it for a moment, then threw down the broom and stooped to pick up the key. Was he letting me out?
‘Jake?’ I called, pressing my ear to the door. I could hear him breathing and a chill ran through me. If I opened the door, would he attack me? Kill me? Enjoy what’s left of your life, Colleen. That’s what his text had said.
Footsteps sounded, heavy and fast on the stairs, and when it was clear he’d gone, I pushed the key in the keyhole and attempted to turn it. I wiggled it, heart pounding, but it wouldn’t budge.
‘It doesn’t fit,’ I shouted, thumping the door. ‘Jake! The key doesn’t fit the door.’
I rushed towards the boxes and clambered up again. ‘Wait!’ I called, hearing the clunk of the car unlocking, followed by the engine revving. ‘Come back!’
But the car pulled away, quickly gathering speed, and then there was silence again.
‘Shit!’ I screamed and jumped down. I stood, swaying for a moment, my heart clattering. I’d only felt this helpless once before, when Bryony … I turned my mind away. No point going down that road.
I made a horrible noise that scared me. I wanted to cry. Punch something – someone.
I still had the key in my hand and there was something printed on the label. I held it up to the sunlight, feeling dizzy and faint, my legs like rubber, and read the words:
Colleen. Open box number 1