Stealing Roses

Chapter 5

When the boy threw me into the basement, I remembered who he was. When I had first started high school, he was in his last year. Alex Carson. No. Alex…Carroll was his name. My best friend at the time, Evie, would point him out to me.

“I’m going to marry him one day.” She would sigh, lovingly. I would always dismiss her nonsense and continue scrawling in my notebook. Then Evie went missing. The police never found her body, or her kidnapper. The only thing left was her school bag on the side of the road next to some tyre tracks. Everyone thought it was her father, because he disappeared too. What if this guy took Evie? Would anyone ever find me? Would I be just another statistic in the end? Another girl the cops wrote off as a stupid teenager who ran away? I couldn’t handle the thought of being forgotten, so I focused on finding a way out. Obviously the front door wasn’t an option but there had to be something in this room. I remembered seeing a couch when I opened the door. I crept over to it, careful not to trip over anything and hurt myself more than I already had. Finally, I found it. Rough vinyl and plastic trimmings. I was sticking my hands between the cushions when I found something. It felt like a piece of metal and I pulled it out, running my fingers over it, trying to feel what it was. It felt like a necklace. I couldn’t be sure until I got some light down here.

“Rosie?” I heard the door creak open. I thrust the necklace into my pocket and peered up from behind the couch. “I know it’s scary down here, but you can stay with me in the master bedroom when I know you’re done with this game.” I nodded sharply.

“Can I get a light down here?” I asked. I couldn’t look at it while he was here and a light would help me find a way to escape. He nodded, looking doubtful for a second, but he accepted my request. He trusted me for some reason, and I would use that every way I could. He tilted his head as if listening to something only he could hear, before closing the door again.

Using the light from the torch he gave me, I analysed the necklace. It was a simple chain with a small, distinctive charm. The charm was thick and shaped like a dagger. The girl who wore this necklace had had it custom made. Evie. I dropped the necklace as if it was made of fire and I put my hand on my stomach as it emptied itself. After a few dry heaves, I lay on my back on the ratty couch, hoping that maybe someone would come rescue me.

By my estimation, four days had passed by the time I’d searched the basement back to front and upside down. There was nothing. Nothing that could help me escape. The boy had visited me six or seven times, to give me meals and to plead with me to stop.

“Stop playing this game, Rosie.” He would take my hand, caressing each callous. “I don’t like games.” Then, he would listen to that mysterious noise that wasn’t there, mumble something incoherent and leave. “Help me get rid of them Rose.” He would say each time and then bolt the door behind him. The crawlspace he had locked me in was extremely underused, and at first I was so terrified I almost pulled my own hair out, but now, I was just numb. The walls of the basement were made of brick, covered by a thin layer of white paint, which was peeling and cracking so badly, it looked like a cobweb. In some of the more severe spots, I could see mortar. In the far corner, there were strange grooves in the wall. I sat there staring at them, trying to figure out what they were. Anything to keep my mind off…this.

“Scratch marks.” I ran my fingers through each one. They were so deep; someone would have to be here for a long time to get that far. There were dark stains in the grooves and what looked to be the remains of a fingernail embedded in the crevices. “Oh, Evie.” I could just imagine Evie here, scratching at the walls, trying to break out. Her nails snapping and her fingers raw and bloody, but her determination keeping her going. She would’ve gone mad if she’d been here without her medication. Evie was schizophrenic and she took her meds religiously. If she hadn’t taken it, her delusions would have become so vivid, she wouldn’t be able to distinguish fantasy from reality at all. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my fingers over the scratch marks again. How long were you down here?