Reduced to Ruin

Chapter 17

Things were so different between the two of us after the Thanksgiving party. It felt as if we were more relaxed. And I found myself laughing and talking more than I ever was before. Part of me felt my fate had been sealed. And that complacency set off an alarm deep inside of me.

Fight it, Corrine. Don't let it win over you. You do not care about this idiot!

Then—I had the nightmare. It was about a week after the Thanksgiving party, and I woke up in a panic, sweating, and disoriented.

My father was dying.

It was so vivid. So terrifying. Never had I experienced a nightmare that clear before. I was convinced this dream had true basis in reality—my father was in serious trouble.

I had a new resolve after that night—I had to overcome my fear and ambiguity and reunite with my dad. He needed me. Something deep inside told me this wasn't just a dream—it was a sign. A dream couldn't be that real and not be true in some form. The universe was giving me a sign that I needed to stop being a chicken. It was time to escape.

It was time to take my life back.

All I could think of the next morning was the plan and how my leaving would break his heart. But why did I care? I was so confused, and I realized I could no longer deny that this was Stockholm syndrome. I had always scoffed at that label, theorizing the oppressed victims were only weak individuals in the first place. After all, if they were strong, they would never allow themselves to fall for their captors. Even as a professional, I didn't see how Stockholm syndrome could truly be real.

But now I knew differently.

I now felt an attachment and trust in him. Before I would allow myself to analyze my feelings further, I forced myself to think of my dad instead. The more I thought about James, the more my urge to escape dwindled. I had to fight these irrational feelings for James. This abductor.

I decided my best bet would be to try the door hinges. I thought about it all day after the nightmare.

In fact, at dinner that night James asked, "Are you okay, Corrine?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You don't seem to be yourself today. You've been really quiet."

I had been in my own world much of the day.

"I'm sorry. I feel like I'm coming down with a cold. I'm just worn down, I guess."

"I'll have to get some zinc and vitamin C in you after dinner," James said with a kind smile.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." I looked the other way.

After we cleaned up the dishes and food, James said, "OK, I want a poker rematch tonight. Double or nothing."

"Well, I would love to play. But I think it's best if I go to bed early tonight," I announced.

"Aw," he said.

"I just don't want to get worse or pass it on to you. I'd feel so bad," I defended innocently.

"No, no, I understand, Corrine," James said. "I'm only teasing you."

He put his arm around my shoulder. "You should rest up. It's flu season, so I don't want any sickies." He gave me a hug then continued cleaning up dinner. He placed new water in the vase for the beautiful bouquet of flowers he brought home for me yesterday.

Ever since Thanksgiving, James had been more "touchy-feely" with me, giving me hugs or tapping me with his elbow or hands when joking around. It was like the feeling of a first date but magnified a thousand times. He hadn't tried kissing me on the lips yet, but I was sure it was coming.

And worse. The reality horrified me. Even more reason to escape. Now.

"Thanks for understanding, James," I said. I avoided all eye contact.

After we finished cleaning up, James picked up his guitar. He began playing an Eric Clapton song, "Tears in Heaven."

Of all the songs he could've chosen in that moment, it was that one that affirmed to me I had made the right decision. "Would you know my name / If I saw you in Heaven?" My moment had come. Just as Clapton sang about reuniting with his son, it was time for me to reunite with my father.

If I were going to miss anything in Kansas, it would be moments like these, where I enjoyed listening to James's music.

After a couple of songs, I said good night and thanked him for his entertainment. I told him he was welcome to continue playing, although I wondered why I asked for the torture. The more James would play, the harder it would be for me to leave.

I closed the bedroom door and leaned against it in relief. Then the reality I was never going to see James again hit me. My stomach sank.

Stop caring about this bastard, Corrine! You're stronger than this.

Even worse, was I going to report him to the authorities once I escaped? I couldn't bear seeing James in court, suffering. I didn't want to see him, not when I was the reason he was in prison. I couldn't bear being the source of so much pain and torment for him in jail.

Yet another symptom of Stockholm syndrome. Victims often felt guilt for their captors possibly being prosecuted. The reality hit me that I didn't want to see him in pain, even though he had caused me a month of it. And a lifetime of therapy.

I once read an article about Elizabeth Smart, the fourteen-year-old girl who was abducted at knife-point from her bedroom in Utah and held captive for nine months. Her story made national news for weeks. The article indicated that after she was found, she inquired about her abductors and cried about what would happen to them.

"Are they in trouble?" she had asked, worried.

I sat on my bed and tried to concentrate on getting home. I was relieved when James finally headed downstairs. I was afraid he was going to stay and watch TV or something, but he must've decided to give me some time to rest.

I opened the bedroom door and peaked around. Yes, he was gone. I needed time to develop my plan in detail, although that was difficult when I didn't know what to expect behind that door. I also wasn't mechanically-inclined and knew nothing about doors and hinges. What if a door didn't pop off when the pins were released like it did in Flowers in the Attic? And how difficult was it to get the pins out? How loud would it be?

I began panicking about the logistics. What was I going to use to push the pins out? An ice pick would be perfect, but I didn't have anything sharp in the kitchen. I began rummaging through the apartment for anything that might work.

After about twenty minutes, I found a pen, my tweezers in my make-up bag, and a screw I had taken from one of the dresser drawer knobs. One of these had to work.

I felt so nauseous all of a sudden. I lay down on the bed and decided to take a nap, if I could fall asleep. The night could be very long for me, so I would need as much strength as I could muster. Sleep was just what I needed.

I thought about escaping during the day while James was at work. But he always kept me guessing as to if he was around or not. After following his schedule for a month, I determined there was absolutely no pattern. I even tried to casually ask him if he was going into the city or not the next day. He'd always reply with something like, "I'll have to see how it goes." And sometimes he wouldn't come up all day, but other days it could be one hour. There just was no way to tell if he was home or not.

But one thing I knew for sure—James slept at night. 

Will Corrine's idea work? Read Chapter 18 to find out! And feel free to follow me and vote if you like this story. Have a great day!