His Desire

Having a routine stopped Tina from going insane. The clock her captor had provided allowed her to track her days. It made her able to attempt to gauge his routine so that she could prepare herself each time he decided to pay her a visit. If she was right, she had been back in the bedroom for about ten days, give or take a day, and from studying the clock she had determined that he came for his first visit of the day when it read eight o'clock. Her assumption that it was eight in the morning stemmed from the fact that he would always enter the room with a bowl of food for her, the content of which would either be cereal or porridge. If he was feeling particularly nice, he'd let her feed herself but that had only happened twice in the past ten days. He'd then leave and she would watch the clock until it hit half past twelve when he would enter again. This visit would be the most violent, although it was never perceived that way by him, and would also provide her with clean clothes to change into after he'd left. The last visit would be when the clock read seven o'clock. He'd come with her second meal of the day if she was deemed good enough in the past two visits, and would also be the longest visit. He would bid her goodnight before he left and she'd spend most of the hours between that and the morning visit trying not to go insane.

Her favourite spot to curl up and pretend that she wasn't someone's captive was in the small bathroom. The space next to the toilet was where she was currently lying on her side with her knees to her chest. Her eyes were unfocused but whether that was from her lack of sleep or concentration, she wasn't sure. The one thing she was sure of was that sleep had become a foreign concept to her. She might end up falling into a fitful slumber each time she was left alone but none ever lasted more than ninety minutes' maximum. Most times it was somewhere around the forty-five minute mark.

Sometimes she wished that the clock was in the bathroom instead of the bedroom, but knew that could never happen. He'd ask her why and she wouldn't be able to tell him the real reason because she knew he would punish her, even if he was in a good mood. After all, how could she tell her own personal rapist that she couldn't go near the bed that dominated the bedroom? Whenever she was forced onto it during his visits her stomach always turned and she wanted to cry and scream because despite being able to attempt to normalise all other interactions with him to make them easier for her to handle, that was the only one she absolutely couldn't cope with.

That violation and how degrading it was sparked her feelings of wanting to die, just so that she would never have to be subjected to it again. The larger part of her kept telling herself that she wasn't going to die a prisoner but each passing minute made an escape feel further and further away.

A shudder ran through Tina's body as she slowly sat up. She was still sore from her captor's last visit but the knowledge that she wouldn't be disturbed for hours was of some comfort to her. Sometimes she'd go into the bedroom and toy with the loose board at the window, reaffirming to herself that it was still waiting for her to use it. There hadn't been a time to use it. He had to be off-guard and she had to be able to hit him hard enough to keep him grounded for a while. It had to be planned otherwise she was certain he'd catch her, and that was not an option.

She leaned her head against the toilet and sighed. The door suddenly opening made her jump, her head slamming into the cistern of the toilet. Her captor stood in the doorway and he didn't look happy. "In the bedroom, Tina," he commanded, making her scramble from where she was sat and obey.

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't think of any reason why he would be angry with her, other than the fact that he was clearly crazy. Normally he had a reason, even if it was a silly reason such as her taking too long to answer his question, but he had left happy - or what she thought was happy. He had pinned her to the bed and whispered about how she was being so good and how she wasn't resisting his touch as much which meant she was learning. It didn't seem to cross his mind that she wasn't resisting as much because she wanted to save herself from gaining more broken bones. Who was to say that the next thing he broke wasn't going to be her neck?

"What were you doing in that bathroom?" her captor asked, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom.

Tina took a step back and hit the end of the bed. "I--" she began, stopping when she wasn't sure what to say. What could she say that wouldn't get her into trouble? "I felt sick and I thought it would be best if I stayed by the toilet."

He straightened up and came towards her. Her legs pressed against the bed, stopping her from stepping back, and she held her breath as he stepped in front of her. Surprisingly, he gently pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and used the other to cup her cheek. "You're not warm," he said, "and I make sure you eat healthily, so hopefully it will pass."

While she was glad that he accepted her excuse, she was still on edge about what made him break his schedule. Before she could ask, he stepped away from her and sat on the chair, patting the bed for her. She hesitated before slowly sitting on the spot he had tapped, dread washing over her.

"This isn't working," he announced, gesturing between her and the room. "I thought that it could, that it would all go to plan, but I was wrong."

"Are you going to kill me?" Before she had finished speaking, he hit her across the face so hard that she fell against the pillow, clutching at her burning cheek.

"I don't know why you insist on keep saying that," he chided, his tone changing abruptly, "but it's annoying and I don't want to hear it again."

She nodded in understanding, not wanting to speak. He seemed more irritable than he had been in the last ten days but if he wasn't going to kill her, what was he talking about?

"There is more that you have to learn and that can't be taught in this room, unfortunately. And to be honest, you haven't entirely gained my trust so allowing you to roam this house isn't a possibility right now. So that leaves me with only one choice."

He paused, the silence indicating that he wanted her cooperation. She gave it to him with a meek, "What choice is that?"

"We're going to go away. It will be to a place where you'll get lost if you even attempt to run away again, but you're not going to do that. You're not going to disappoint me again," he explained, giving her a levelled look. "But I came here to give you a choice, one that you will make yourself. You can either sit in the front next to me, where you will have a blindfold on beneath a pair of sunglasses, or you can endure the ride in the boot. If you choose the boot you will be blindfolded and tied up, whereas sitting next to me you won't be."

Once again she was given two options, neither of which was appealing. If she sat in the front next to him she would be free but at what cost? He could touch her and yet again she was in a dress, one that he could easily slip his hand under if he wanted to, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. They'd be so close to one another that he wouldn't hesitate to hit her, but would also have the disadvantage of being the one to drive. If she wasn't being blindfolded, that might have been her choice. It would have been easier to try to overpower him and force the car to crash, hopefully giving her time to escape for good.

However, the boot wasn't an ideal place either. She would have to be restrained and blindfolded for the entire journey despite already being confined in a locked compartment. The only plus was the fact that she wouldn't be anywhere near him and he wouldn't be able to touch her for the entire journey. Would she really choose that over the freedom of not being tied up?

"Well?" he asked.

"I don't feel ready to have that freedom," she said slowly, choosing each word carefully.

He looked surprised. "You're choosing the boot?"

"Yes."

"I will say I'm disappointed that you won't be next to me, Tina. I had looked forward to that. But I am proud of you for telling me that you're not ready for that," he praised her, giving her knee a soft pat. "You're doing so good."

Satisfied with her answer, he pulled her up from the bed and kissed her cheek before leading her out the room. Every instinct told her to try to run as he pulled her down the stairs but her rational mind stopped her. There was no way he would leave the front door unlocked, not after her last attempt, and if the windows were anything like the one in her room, trying to escape now would just be a set up for failure. If her days as his captive had taught her anything, it was that he was smart and cunning and she would need to get the better of him if she wanted to escape.

She stood limply in the garage as he tied her hands in front of her and felt a brief panic when he put the blindfold on. He guided her into the boot and she was surprised to feel a pillow cushion her head. "It shouldn't take long," he said, alerting her to the fact that he was still standing above her. "After today there should be no need to restrain you." With that he closed the boot.

As the situation she was in dawned on her, Tina began to question her decision. Was being trapped in the boot better than being vulnerable to his desires while blindfolded? It had to be, she was certain of it. She'd choose any option other than voluntarily being in his presence. Besides, choosing to confine herself had made him trust her, and trust was all she needed to escape, that she was also certain of.

She felt the car start and began to take small, shallow breaths to keep calm. As they began to move, she began to think about her dad. After her mother had kicked her out, she had managed to phone him to explain the situation and he had told her to come and live with him. If she had sucked up her pride and gone back to her mother's house for all her stuff, she would have had the money right then to travel there. Had she done that, she would have never visited that homeless shelter and would have never been kidnapped. Everything would be different and she wouldn't be living in constant fear.

Did her dad think she was dead? When she was taken it had been two weeks since she had last phoned him and had been due to phone him the following day. Had he become worried when she didn't phone? Did he phone her mother to see whether she had been back home? Was she worried when she found out that he hadn't heard from her in a while? Probably not, she thought bitterly. She had been adamant that her attraction towards women was wrong, wrong enough to kick her out, so she didn't hold much hope that she would be concerned about her being missing. Knowing her luck, she probably wasn't even thought of as missing by her father. He probably put it down to her being homeless and unable to afford to phone him.

Times like this was when she wished she had been normal. If she liked men then her mother would have never thrown her out. She would still be living at home and still be free. How could her sexuality have lead to this? How did her captor even know the reason she had been kicked out? She knew her mother would never have discussed that with anyone because she wouldn't want people to know that her daughter was a lesbian, but he definitely knew. It was what he was trying to correct, so he said. But how did he know?

Her time in the boot felt endless thanks to the blindfold, so when she felt the car turn off she was desperate to be released. Any hope of it being a stranger who opened the boot disappeared when she felt hands untying her bonds. "I told you it wouldn't take long," her captor said, moving his hands to slide her blindfold off.

She blinked several times to adjust to the light before allowing him to pull her out from the boot, giving her the freedom to stretch her aching legs. The gravel beneath her feet was cold and as she looked around, a sinking feeling took hold of her.

The fields before her were endless, and as she looked over her shoulder she noticed the only thing she could see was the house. The rest was just fields. She had nowhere to run.

He had taken her to the middle of nowhere.