Silver Lining

21. Outings

The sixth day

It was the first of December.

The thought that I might never get back to my normal life had started to nip at the corners of my brain and I was getting more scared by the minute.
Surely they would of found me by now if they connected the call I made to the time we tried to get a restraining order.

Or maybe the call operator just dismissed the call as a joke.

I moaned in despair and put my head on the wall. I was in the room of eyes again, and it was seriously getting hot. Michael had left me with a glass of water today by my feet, what a gentleman, but my arms weren't long enough to reach it. I strained against the handcuffs, reaching for the glass, but I was about two inches off. Again I moaned, wiping the sweat off my forehead.

Michael had to be back soon. I was getting pretty desperate for some water and it felt like I had been trapped in here for hours.
The gods must of been listening because at that moment the door slammed. I had never been so pleased to see him.

"Madison," Michael said, stumbling into the room of eyes. "We need to do something together, go put on a pretty dress. Look nice, I wanna show you off." His words slurred and the smell of alcohol radiated of him as he uncuffed me. He seemed to forget I only had the clothes I was wearing. I hadn't been wearing the same outfit for six days for fun.

Was I going to get to go outside? I'd been in the dark, dingy house for the last six days, with the occasional flash of box garden. I wanted to breathe fresh air!

I dived for the glass of water and gulped down the tepid liquid that tasted like public swimming pool.

"You were thirsty!" Michael said, and started laughing hysterically like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

I stood up. "Where are we going?" I asked, hoping he hadn't changed his mind about going out.

Michael shrugged, and grabbed my hand in his. His hand was sweaty and clammy, and it took all my strength to not pull my hand back. He pulled me towards the front door, and let go of my hand so he could undo all the padlocks and chains and bolts. I wiped my hand on my shirt.

When he opened that front door it was surreal. It was so... normal. Sure, it was a rough part of the neighbourhood, and looked really sketchy, but it was so everyday, so normal. And the last couple of days for me had not been normal.

I tried to look for a street sign, but there wasn't one around. Very convenient.

We got into the same white van that we were in six days ago, when he kidnapped me. He didn't make me wear a blindfold though.

I wondered if he was too drunk to drive, but thought better of it. It's not like I could possibly be in anymore danger than I was already in, and the police pulling us over would be a good thing. As long as he doesn't crash into anyone else...

He swerved all over the road on his street, swinging around the corner. I gritted my teeth and clutched the sides of the seat, which had foam spilling out of holes and springs sticking out of the stained fabric. It was worse than the couch in his living room.

I considered asking where we were going, but decided not to. It didn't really matter, and I didn't want him to have one of his mood swings and decide to go back. I couldn't go back to that house, to the room of eyes. I just couldn't.

***

I was back in the room of eyes.

We had been driving- no, swerving- around for maybe twenty minutes, and Michael had the windows open. I had considered screaming help out the window so many times, but I had to wait for the right moment. I could not mess up my chances.
We drove past a woman in maybe her mid thirties, and Michael slowed the van a little. She was walking on the sidewalk on the passenger side of the van, where I was sitting. She glanced at the van when Michael slowed down, then did a double take as she saw me. I guess I was on the news.

Now.
"Please help me!" I screamed out the window at the woman. "He kidnapped-" Michael slapped me so hard that my head knocked into the side of the window, and I passed out.

So here I was, back in the room of eyes, my cheek smarting and a lump on my head. I really hope that woman contacted the police. It felt like she was my last hope.

I'm not sure why I was in the room of eyes, because Michael hadn't gone out to the pub. He did that in the mornings, and I could hear him crashing about in the kitchen. He usually let me free when he was home. I laughed bitterly. It wasn't really free though, was it? But being stuck in his house seemed like freedom when compared to being cuffed up in a room where I was being watched by my own eyes.

***

That night when Michael finally let me out of the room of eyes, it was already dark outside. He pushed me into the living room, where he wrestled me onto the couch. I screamed and kicked, trying to get away, but he was too strong. "Why don't you let me love you?" He mumbled drunkenly.

"Get off of me," I growled at him, but you could hear the terror in my voice. He lifted his fist, and studied it for a second, before bringing it into contact with my face. I whimpered, and tried to shield my face, and twist away from him.

"You're no fun," he told me, groping at my chest. I crossed my arms over the top of my chest, trying to protect myself. Tears left sticky trails on my face. "Yes, this should be more fun." He agreed with himself. He pulled a pocket knife out of his pocket, and flicked up the blade. My throat tightened and I let out a noise that sounded like a strangled cat.

He put his large hand on my forehead to stop me from turning my face away. "Please no," I whispered desperately, my voice catching and choking up a bit.

The knife blade got closer and closer to my face, the dim light from the flickering light bulb glinting off it.

It should of been my skin hurting, painful lines where he had sliced into my skin. The knife was painful, but at the same time it was numbing, where it came in contact with my skin was out of reach, beyong feeling. But it was my head that hurt, my heart that hurt. I just wanted to see Theo again.

It felt cold and warm at the same time. The knife was cold and harsh and the blood around the knife was warm.

I sobbed the whole time. "Please stop!" I howled at him. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He didn't answer, just kept on smiling manically. The knife danced around above my left eyebrow, my lower lip, my temples, my chest, neck, everywhere. Tears mixed with blood, and dribbled into my mouth. It tasted salty, metallic.

I started to really panic, thinking of all the people I would never see and all the things I would never do. I would never talk Theo into making me pancakes again. Laurel and I would never make another video together. I would never go on a jog with Asher again. I would never go to university. I would never get married. I would never have kids, and later, grandkids. I wouldn't hear another dad joke from my dad, and I wouldn't laugh at another one. I would never laugh again, full stop.
If I died tonight.
But all of a sudden something came to life inside me, and I had a surge of power, and momentarily I was stronger than Michael. Thinking of all the things I still wanted to do and all the people I wanted to see gave me strength, and I managed to get one of my arms free from where he had them both pinned down, and punched him in the stomach.

Michael nearly fell off the sofa, and I tried to get up, but I was so dizzy and light headed that by the time I had moved to get up Michael had regained his balance and was on top of me again.

"You'll pay for that, bitch," he told me, and dragged the knife from the top of my shoulder and diagonally across my chest, finishing at the top of my rib cage, I screamed, as the cold knife glided along my skin.

It never seemed to end, the cold knife kept cutting into me.