The Rabbit Hole

Chapter 17

The days are moving faster now. I'm not even sure what day of the week it is. It feels like its been months since he's taken me. I've been here for so long I'm starting to familiarise myself with this place. It's also been days since he came down to torture me. I haven't even heard his voice. He's been absent, but I know, it's only temporary. When the time comes for him to return, he'll be in a mood to cause pain. "I'm here to dim it" was one of the first things he's said to me, and by "it" he means the light in my eyes. I wonder if he's done that. Dim the light in my eyes, turn everything I see into muck. I don't know if he did. The smell in this pit has turned rancid. The bucket in the corner is nearly filled, and because of that, the air in this place is tainted. The window is out of my reach, I can't open it without stepping on something to...the bucket! Stupid, stupid! It takes a heavy and dense odour of my excretions to bring about this obvious idea. I could've used the bucket days ago and probably would have been out of this place already. No time to kick myself. I flip the bucket on its head, spoiling all the mess on the ground. The bucket is small, and I can't tell whether or not it can account for my weight, I just know that I have to do this.

The bucket is set up, the next step is to get on top of it. It holds and also, I can not only just reach the window but I can see the outside. The window is unhinged so all it takes for me to open it is just a push. The clean outside air waves in through my nasal passages, all the way to my lungs. The breeze I've been longing for is brushing my skin all the way up to my hair. It feels so good, but I have no time, I need to call out for help. From the window, I can see up to a road, there's nothing else but trees. No cars driving by or anything, but still, I have to try. "HELP, HELP ME PLEASE! ANYONE, PLEASE HELP!" Nothing, I keep at it for a while longer and still with no luck, all I get to show for it is a raspy voice, again. At this rate I'm going to end up as a mute. After a quick break to rest my fading voice, I prop up the bucket and get on. As I open my mouth I notice a white pick-up truck drive on to the yard. A quick glance at the driver and I find that it's him. He's back.

I quickly get off the bucket, set it up and wait on the dirty mattress, with my tiny wooden stake tightly in my hand, I wait for him. Patiently, waiting.

He's walking around the house, his footsteps are thudding louder than usual. I don't know what's he doing up there, but I hear the TV come on and the volume running high. The voices sound muffled from where I am, I can't make anything out. Something drops loudly, it sounded so loud I flinched at the force of its landing. Footsteps getting louder, now the padlock snaps and the door opens.

Behind my back is the weapon, I stay seated in a terrified and yet vulnerable manner in which to lure him closer to me. I can't just rush and attack him, he could either see me coming and dodge then turn the weapon against me or the chain linked onto my ankle could snap me back and leave me open to his assault. So, my only option for this to work is to let him come to me. He comes willingly, he won't be prepared for it. He takes his final step and completely enters the room, however, he's standing at the north-end wall, the one I can't reach due to being shackled. The sound of the television upstairs is booming, I can hear everything now. It's the news he's been watching, the news is the reason for his mood. "Do you hear that, Suzanne?" He asks while pointing up to the sound of the television. "They-they are talking about you! You making them notice!" He loudly says, his hands fidgety. As I keep my attention on him, I hear the news reporter say my name, "Heather Brooks" they are looking for me. No one has given up on me yet, Mom, Dad and even Casey, they're still looking for me, waiting for me on the outside. Meanwhile, I'm trapped in this pit and held captive, by him. But that won't be for long, once he comes towards me, I'm going to stab him, I don't know where yet, maybe in the gut or the leg to keep him from pursuing me, or maybe in the neck, aiming to stop him permanently, or the eye, maximise on inflicting pain on him like he's done to me. I don't know, haven't really decided yet but the moment is close at hand. Come on. He paces back and forth, side to side, not coming anywhere near me, keeping his distance. Seemingly aggravated by the news, and mumbling to himself. "They don't know where we are. They can't." He says, pacing. "No. This is a mistake, keeping you alive this long is a mistake, Suzanne!" He hollers at me.