Struggling to breathe as the sound of saliva bubbled in her throat, she started sobbing. “He knows I’m here. He was there when you called me. He’s going to come looking for me.”
“Well then, I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it. But right now you need to get some rest.” He stood up and headed for the door. “And please don’t scream. It’ll only make things worse—for both of you.”
“What do you want from me?” she screamed, her body convulsing with anguish.
Reaching the doorway, he stopped and turned to her. “I’m just going to take back what you took from me.” He left, closing the door and locking it behind him.
Richard suddenly found himself at the side of the bed. He stretched out his arm to touch her skin but couldn’t. Don’t worry Christina, he said, I won’t let him touch you. I swear to…
“Stop screaming!” Peter ordered, forcing the gag back into Christina’s mouth. She bit down hard on it, clearly hoping to catch his fingers. She didn’t.
With the stale smell in the room, the stained mattress, and the state she was in, it felt to Richard that weeks had gone by, not mere seconds. The skin around her wrists and ankles was now bloody and scabbed. Her brown hair was in disarray and was partly stuck to the sides of her face with sweat. Her white dress was soaked through with sweat. And her eyes had deep bags beneath them, with the color drained from both cheeks.
She had clearly been through Hell.
“Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, out of breath as he secured the gag. “Haven’t you learned anything after all this time? What’s the point in wasting your energy trying to fight me? It’s got you nowhere.”
Christina glared at him with bloodshot eyes.
Richard watched in horror as Peter sat on the edge of the bed, his hand gently placed on her thigh. Get away from her, you sick bastard! Richard screamed, as Peter delicately lifted up her dress. You bastard! Get your stinking hands off her! he screamed again, as her dress was pulled up past her underwear, revealing her bare stomach.
Richard struggled to breathe when he saw the bump.
No. Richard shook his head in disbelief. Please, God. No! Please. He could feel his entire body tighten with repulsion as he watched Peter gently stroke her swollen stomach.
Richard could no longer bear the pain of seeing her in such a way, or that monster touching her skin. So he closed his eyes and prayed to be home again.
“Not long now,” Richard heard Peter say, as his eyes slowly came back into focus. “Another week or so.”
Please God, Richard pleaded. Please let me go home. I’ve seen enough.
“Best get some sleep now,” Peter said as he stood up from the bedside, heading over to the doorway. “You need your rest.”
He left, locking the door behind him.
Christina was no longer crying, just staring into space. Broken. The mattress was now stained gray and her dress clung tightly to her body with sweat and dirt.
How long has she been in here? Richard thought. But he had no way of knowing for sure. Maybe three or four weeks. Maybe longer. But he could only guess. He knew very little about pregnancy, only what Nicky had told him, or what he’d seen on TV.
He watched her head slowly lift from the bed to see her baby bump. And then it dropped heavily back down.
She closed her eyes. Richard did the same.
Richard could hear the sounds of the TV.
I’m home.
He could feel himself being dragged out the darkness back into the light of morning. Away from his nightmare. Away from this stranger’s home.
Back to his home.
But then the faint cries of a baby pulled him away. He was back at Christina Long’s side.
Back in Hell.
He saw Peter sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling something in his arms.
A baby.
Christina’s baby.
The unbearable turmoil returned to Richard’s stomach. Please, God. I can’t take any more.