Mia was in the habit of speaking out loud to herself, these days, "you made your bed, now you have to lie in it!" as she tucked the corner of the bed sheet tightly under the mattress. She punched the pillows, fluffing them up and stacked them neatly in twos. It felt as if Tom was avoiding her these days. They were at opposite ends of the house. Tom was preoccupied these days, spending more of his time, down in the basement, sorting things out and preparing for a new guest, as he liked to call it. He never went to work, luckily he had a small team of workers, who got on with their duties without him. He had no financial worries and everything rolled along without any financial problems.
The day before, Mia had gone with him down into the basement. It was the moldy smell that made her nearly pass out. Walking down the flight of stairs, she felt dizzy and anxious. When he unlocked the door, the sound of the click caused her to have a flashback. There was a sudden rush of bad memories and the heavy wooden door of the room, looked like it was made of rubber. She couldn't enter and stood rigidly at the doorway and glanced in at the mattress on the floor. She saw herself lying in it, in the fetal position.
Tom seemed unaware of her discomfort, the panic attack which threatened to take hold of her. He informed her, that he would take care of everything. She turned around and left him to it and ran back upstairs. When he came back up, he saw her sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea. But he didn't notice there was a slight tremor in her fingers when she picked up the cup. It was odd that he walked straight past her without making eye contact or saying a word. Usually, he would sit down and join her. But lately, she felt as if he was ignoring her and it had started to make her feel deeply insecure. She was not a thing, an object, she was a human being. But whatever was going through his mind now, she didn't quite know what it was. It was throwing her off balance and it took all of her energy to appear calm.
With nothing else to keep her busy and Tom being so occupied, Mia repeatedly went over in her mind what would happen if she returned back to society again. She felt that people would always be looking at her, wondering what had gone on. They would be encouraging, but then she would notice the change in their smile when they realized what an ordeal she had suffered. Then the look of pity would as quickly turn into a sinister sneer or a nasty comment.
The accusations would spill out, one after the other, eventually culminating in a tirade of abuse. She would have to endure this all her life. They would say that it was her fault. Blame her. Why had she gone into his house in the first place? Then to top it all, fell asleep on his bed! That was a recipe for disaster right away. Some would say she deserved what she got. Mia honestly still could not answer why she did it. What was she thinking? How could anyone be so naive? And how could she answer these question, if she didn't know the answer herself?
She could imagine herself at a desk in a small, airless room, being interrogated by the authorities or the media. She hated being put on the spot. Her mind would go blank. Or maybe, she would stutter some feeble excuses, hopelessly trying to justify herself. She could see the scenario playing out like a movie in her mind.
The men would be the worst. They would leer at her, wondering if she was an easy fuck and if she was kinky. They would want to get into her knickers. She would inevitably attract this type of person, who would sneer and gloat at her. He would give off subtle messages that she was just a cheap whore. But then, women could be even crueler, pretending to be sympathetic, then spreading malicious gossip behind her back. The sound of whispering was the worst. It made her skin crawl just thinking about it.
No doubt, a reporter would look into all of her previous relationships. Everything would be up for scrutiny. They would want to know all about her life down to the minutest detail and if the press couldn't find anything juicy, they would twist it and present it as fact. The question would eventually pop up: when would she write a book about her kidnapping? Because as far as they could see, after something like this, everyone was in it for the money. The book followed by the film. Mia could see herself being portrayed by a woman more beautiful than she was. At these moments, which were becoming increasingly more frequent, her head hurt just thinking about all the questions that she would have to face if she went back to the outside world. They would want to know if he raped her. When did they first have sex? How often? What did they talk about?
If she went home, there would be a lot of difficult questions to answer. Her mother would be blaming everyone and stirring up trouble. She would urge Mia to go on talk shows and tell-all, not for the money of course, but to set the record straight. Her mother spent far too much time watching TV dramas and her daughter, a modern day heroine, would offer her a chance to revel in it.
Mia imagined herself sitting on stage across from a well-known talk show host. The lights would burn hot and a film of sweat would bead across her forehead. Her mouth would dry up and she would attempt to say something. But she would be unable even to reach for the glass of water placed within her reach because she was frozen in fear. Even if she could answer all those questions, the same questions asked over and over, what would the conclusion be?
Her father would have a different approach. He would get his gun and threaten to kill Tom, hunt him down. To lose Tom forever was not what she wanted. She couldn't understand it, but she still adored him. No one would ever be able to understand their relationship or judge it.
Her sister Jane and her husband would go crazy when they found out that Tom had threatened to hurt their kids. Her ex-boyfriend Josh would look at her with disgust if he found out that she and Tom had fucked like rabbits. Mia was angry with herself. She felt shaky. With the new situation that was pending, she would become Tom's accomplice.
The vivid dreams had returned and the previous night was no exception. It was a symptom of her situation. In the dream, she was back in the basement. She was sitting in an old armchair directly facing the door. Her hair was tied back and her fringe partially covered her eyes like a curtain. But her gaze was cold and resolute. Her hands were placed loosely in the pocket of her skirt and there was a question in her eyes.
She was wearing a vintage style suit, a skirt and jacket, from the seventies era. The fabric had white flowers and the background, green leaves. The color in the background of the suit was beige and she wore a scarf tied in a thick knot around her neck. But, what made it particularly unusual, was that the same pattern of her clothing was replicated on the wallpaper behind her and on the armchair too. She had completely blended into her surroundings, had become invisible.
She stood up in the middle of the room and raised up her hand. There was a small movement and a thick black line flowed, out from her finger in a continuous motion. The line gradually twisted and curled, forming the shape of a stalk. Then, small leaves sprouted from that stalk. It grew in front of her eyes into an intricate design, filling the entire space. A delicate latticework of stalk, leaf and tendril spread upwards and downwards like a magician's handiwork. Suddenly, color appeared and seeped into the spaces, vibrant blues and soft pinks. She smiled when she saw magnificent red roses blooming within the latticework. The smell of perfume filled her nostrils and she inhaled its divine fragrance. More roses sprouted from the blanket of rich foliage and smaller white roses appeared too, scattered across the unfolding tapestry. The blue background color began to separate into various shades of light and dark tones, flirting unashamedly with light. The light blue took a step forward, as the dark blue took a step back as if they were dancing.
She noticed luscious and plump fresh summer strawberries sprouting from the vines. Set to burst, promising to be packed with juicy nectar. She could almost taste it on her tongue. As she attempted to pluck a ripe strawberry from the vine, she could not. Her arms had turned into wings, although adept at flying, useless for picking fruit. Frustrated, she pulled her wings tight into her body and poked her sharp beak, into the luscious fruit, piercing the soft flesh. The juice trickled over her parched tongue. Excited, she began hopping from one strawberry to the next, but only partially nibbling on them before cheekily moving on to the next. She wiped the bloody red juice from her beak against the feathers of her chest. As she peeped into the vegetation, she saw another tableau of foliage, a repeated pattern. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed herself head first through the latticework and plunged into the next enchanted layer.
"Why can't he see me?"
She could hear the sound of Tom's footsteps coming down the stairs. His face appeared at the door then he walked into the small basement room. But he didn't notice her. He seemed preoccupied. So he turned around and walked back out and banged the door shut.
******************
Tom sat next to her on the sofa watching her sewing, wondering how he had ever got into this situation. He had wanted to punish someone for the robbery and for the death of his mother, for losing Krista. He had lashed out, without stopping to think. Mia just happened to come along at the wrong moment. To be the one that he unleashed his rage upon. Tom could have made a decision early on to let her go free, but he hadn't. Now he was on an unknown trajectory and he had to live with the consequences. But, he thought that he loved her. He wanted to possess her completely. She had touched a place in his heart and soul, that he never knew even existed. He wanted them to be together forever. What if she were ever to leave him? What would he do then?
When he met her, he had been living like a hermit, in self-imposed isolation, throwing himself into his work in a robot-like kind of existence. He never thought it was possible for him to love again or to trust a woman. Other people seemed to be able to find it, but up until now, it had eluded him. He had been disappointed so much in the past. When she had landed right there on his bed, everything seemed to be in the right place. It was meant to be.
She had accepted him. She forgave the monster in him and offered him a new beginning. He never told anyone else, the things he had told her. He felt too ashamed of his inadequacies. He trusted that she wouldn't go back to her family and friends, or the police. He would get locked up if she did. They were bound together, tied in some mysterious, unbreakable bond. So how could he justify this obsession of his, to capture another woman? To stop himself from thinking too much, he asked Mia to continue from where she left off and so she put down the sewing and said, "Bonnie heard her front doorbell ringing..."