HUNTER

3

My eyes flickered open as a groan escaped my lips at the awful churning sensation in my stomach. Instinctively my hand raised to touch my head, but it didn't move. Glancing over my shoulder I see my hands stuck in handcuffs, scream, then let my cheek flop back to the cold concrete floor in defeat.
"Fuck," I sniff, as tears flowed down my cheeks. I could hear Mama's voice in my head filled with disappointment.
"Going to a strange man's house in the middle of the night, Angelica! You should know better. In our day such behaviour would not occur. It's all these celebrities and their nonsense. Teaching young girls that promiscuity is acceptable." Blah, blah, blah. Shaking the memory away I try to focus on the hear and now. It appeared I was stuck, handcuffed, in a cage. The room was white, with stairs leading up to a type of metal door. There was no handle, no lock on this side. In the cage was a toilet, shower, and a simple single sized bed. Nothing fancy. A pile of clothes sat on the bed: some grey joggers and a black vest, no shoes. Again, nothing fancy.
My hands had begun to hurt by the time my kidnapper made an appearance. The door slammed hard behind him. He wore his costume of a suit with a red tie, carrying a tray on which sat a sandwich and a glass of water. No cutlery.
"Good morning, Angelica." He purred, setting the tray down on the floor close to the cage. Taking out a set of keys he unlocked the cage, unlocked the handcuffs and made a quick exit to lock the cage door again. I rubbed the marks on my wrist, ignoring his greeting. He watched me closely, his hands casually in his trouser pockets like we had just met again in the street, "did you sleep well?"
I made no comment. Just continued rubbing my wrists to ease the tension.
"I slept marvellously." He gloated with a smile. His spell, whatever it had been between us last night, had worn off. As far as I was concerned he didn't exist.
"You asked me a question last night that I wasn't prepared to answer. Until now." He tried to coax some interest out of me. I think the fact that he drugged me and stuck me in here trumped the name issue. But he continued anyway. "See, I've been watching you for a while, Angelica. You spend your nights at Harold's Bar, from six until ten, you drive home and spend the rest of the night either engaging in meaningless sex with strangers or crying at a movie you selected." He began to walk around the cage. I kept my eyes fixed on my wrists. "Your family are all happy, with families and careers, while you live alone, are single, and try your best to be an artist but just can't make the cut." He grins victoriously. He's proud of gathering so much crap about my life. "Your parents are Ed and Anya who are of mixed British and Italian decent, and after your breakup with Paul Morris you spent about four years institutionalised." At this I looked up. He had me line, hook, and sinker. "So, what, you're just a creep who likes to hang around while I fuck other guys or enjoys social media far too much?" The fact I was hospitalised after the break up was private. Even my parents didn't know. He chuckles, knowing he had caught me this time. "It's amazing what you can find out when you dig around."

So, he, whoever he really was, had connections. He lured his prey in with his smooth Hollywood charm and fancy tie, brought them to a very large and methodical house with a misleading exterior so you're in awe. Then drugs you and stuffs you in a cage in his basement. Fucking wonderful. Getting to my feet I wrap my hands around the cool black bars of the cage and meet his gaze. "What now?"
"You're mine." He says, leaning in close to purr into my ear.
A shiver ran through me at the thought of having this man anywhere near me, touching me. I almost gagged.
"But don't worry. In time you'll come around to the idea willingly." He grinned, tapping my hand.
"You're not going to hurt me?" I asked, baffled. Don't kidnappers usually beat you down until you give in, or just take whatever they wanted?
"I'm not a rapist, Angelica. In time you'll learn to love me as I do you."
"You're insane." I spat.
"Maybe." He burst out laughing. "But you're the one who's been in the mental ward."
With that he turned and headed for the door. Flicking a piece of thin camouflaged metal up to insert a thin pin into a homemade lock. It opened with a click and he left. He left me alone with the horror that suddenly hit me. Shock radiated through me causing my hands and lips to shake. He wasn't going to physically torture me to get what he wanted. He was going to do it mentally. And that scared me more.