Lena heard someone coming down the stairs. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not. She had managed to hold her bladder, and keep down her last meal, but she felt certain that pretty soon, she would succumb to one or the other. Her head was almost clear, now, but she still ached. It wasn’t easy for her to move, tied the way she was, but she managed to crane her neck to see that it was Mark that she had heard.
“Well, you’re awake, finally,” he said. “I was beginning to think that I had overdosed you.” He didn’t seem particularly concerned that he might have killed her. How much longer would he have let her lie there? What if she had O.D.’d on whatever drug he had given her? Would he have called for an ambulance, and taken a chance of going to jail, or would he have just let her die, and then tried to hide the body? Lena contemplated asking him what he wanted with her, but she was a little afraid to find out. Besides, her bladder was about to burst.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Well, I guess we can’t have you making a mess in Mom’s basement.” He pulled a gun from behind him somewhere, and waved it in her general direction. She almost wet herself. “Don’t try anything stupid. You’ll regret it.” He untied her, and led her up the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned right and led her down to the second door on the left. The hallway was long, but the door to the basement and the bathroom door were close together. There were pictures hanging on the wall. Many of the pictures showed either a mother with a young son, or a family of three. The little boy looked so sweet and innocent; if Lena hadn't been concentrating on holding her bladder, she would have wondered how that little boy had grown up to be a kidnapper.
He let her into the bathroom, and allowed her to close the door behind her. She pulled down her pants, and plopped herself down on the toilet and let go. She felt very relieved. She looked around for a window. There was one, but it was small. She might be able to fit through, but how far could she get before he started shooting at her? She finished her business, pulled up her pants, and went to the window. There was a view of beautiful coastline, and not much else. There wasn’t even any indication that there was another beach house nearby. She didn’t think that she would even get far enough for anyone to be able to hear her screaming for help. She washed her hands and opened the door.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, as Mark began tying her up again.
“Because I’m tired. I’ve done everything right. I’ve been a perfect gentleman, not just with you, but with the other girls I’ve dated. But, eventually, each of you decides that I’m just not good enough to stay with; not husband material, I guess. Just about the time that I feel comfortable in a relationship, I get dumped. You are not going to dump me, Lena. You are going to stay here until you learn to love me.” If Lena hadn’t been afraid of what might happen if she argued with him, she would have pointed out that it had been a while since he had been a gentleman with her. At first, yes, he was romantic and charming and, well, nice. He had been gentle. Somewhere along the line though, he had, in his words, gotten comfortable with the relationship. He stopped treating her like a lady, and treated her more like property. As if he owned her. As if she belonged to him. As if her feelings no longer mattered. If this was his usual pattern, no wonder he kept getting dumped. He said that she had been in mom’s basement, though. She hadn’t realized that he had parents in the local area, though (unless they weren't local anymore--she really didn't know where they were). In all the time that they had been dating, she had never met them. Obviously his mom wasn’t home, but she would come back eventually. He couldn’t keep her here forever. Nervously, she broached the subject, “When will your mom be back?”
Mark laughed. “She’s out of the country. She won’t be back for months. By the time she gets back, you and I will be married.”
He’d lost it. You don’t convince somebody to marry you by kidnapping them. She tried to come up with some explanation for how he might think that this experience might convince her to even continue to like him. She remembered learning about Stockholm Syndrome in her college psychology class. In 1973, in Stockholm, some bank robbers in Stockholm held some of the bank employees hostage for six days. During their captivity, the hostages develop feelings of sympathy, possibly even affection, for their captors. The hostages actually spoke out in defense of the criminals after their release. What if she developed such an ailment? She could wind up in a marriage with him… Her stomach began churning. The nausea intensified; for a minute, she thought she was going to hurl, but the thought of hurling took her mind off of the possible wedding and she was able to marshal the self-control to keep the contents of her stomach to herself. Almost immediately, she regretted it. She tried to imagine the look on his face if she had puked all over him, but, then, she couldn’t help but imagine the beating she would receive afterwards; maybe not a beating, that really didn’t seem to be the way Mark wanted to operate (although, in his current mental state, anything was possible), but he would undoubtedly find some way to punish her. She guessed she had done the smart thing, after all.
“Well, you’re awake, finally,” he said. “I was beginning to think that I had overdosed you.” He didn’t seem particularly concerned that he might have killed her. How much longer would he have let her lie there? What if she had O.D.’d on whatever drug he had given her? Would he have called for an ambulance, and taken a chance of going to jail, or would he have just let her die, and then tried to hide the body? Lena contemplated asking him what he wanted with her, but she was a little afraid to find out. Besides, her bladder was about to burst.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Well, I guess we can’t have you making a mess in Mom’s basement.” He pulled a gun from behind him somewhere, and waved it in her general direction. She almost wet herself. “Don’t try anything stupid. You’ll regret it.” He untied her, and led her up the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned right and led her down to the second door on the left. The hallway was long, but the door to the basement and the bathroom door were close together. There were pictures hanging on the wall. Many of the pictures showed either a mother with a young son, or a family of three. The little boy looked so sweet and innocent; if Lena hadn't been concentrating on holding her bladder, she would have wondered how that little boy had grown up to be a kidnapper.
He let her into the bathroom, and allowed her to close the door behind her. She pulled down her pants, and plopped herself down on the toilet and let go. She felt very relieved. She looked around for a window. There was one, but it was small. She might be able to fit through, but how far could she get before he started shooting at her? She finished her business, pulled up her pants, and went to the window. There was a view of beautiful coastline, and not much else. There wasn’t even any indication that there was another beach house nearby. She didn’t think that she would even get far enough for anyone to be able to hear her screaming for help. She washed her hands and opened the door.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, as Mark began tying her up again.
“Because I’m tired. I’ve done everything right. I’ve been a perfect gentleman, not just with you, but with the other girls I’ve dated. But, eventually, each of you decides that I’m just not good enough to stay with; not husband material, I guess. Just about the time that I feel comfortable in a relationship, I get dumped. You are not going to dump me, Lena. You are going to stay here until you learn to love me.” If Lena hadn’t been afraid of what might happen if she argued with him, she would have pointed out that it had been a while since he had been a gentleman with her. At first, yes, he was romantic and charming and, well, nice. He had been gentle. Somewhere along the line though, he had, in his words, gotten comfortable with the relationship. He stopped treating her like a lady, and treated her more like property. As if he owned her. As if she belonged to him. As if her feelings no longer mattered. If this was his usual pattern, no wonder he kept getting dumped. He said that she had been in mom’s basement, though. She hadn’t realized that he had parents in the local area, though (unless they weren't local anymore--she really didn't know where they were). In all the time that they had been dating, she had never met them. Obviously his mom wasn’t home, but she would come back eventually. He couldn’t keep her here forever. Nervously, she broached the subject, “When will your mom be back?”
Mark laughed. “She’s out of the country. She won’t be back for months. By the time she gets back, you and I will be married.”
He’d lost it. You don’t convince somebody to marry you by kidnapping them. She tried to come up with some explanation for how he might think that this experience might convince her to even continue to like him. She remembered learning about Stockholm Syndrome in her college psychology class. In 1973, in Stockholm, some bank robbers in Stockholm held some of the bank employees hostage for six days. During their captivity, the hostages develop feelings of sympathy, possibly even affection, for their captors. The hostages actually spoke out in defense of the criminals after their release. What if she developed such an ailment? She could wind up in a marriage with him… Her stomach began churning. The nausea intensified; for a minute, she thought she was going to hurl, but the thought of hurling took her mind off of the possible wedding and she was able to marshal the self-control to keep the contents of her stomach to herself. Almost immediately, she regretted it. She tried to imagine the look on his face if she had puked all over him, but, then, she couldn’t help but imagine the beating she would receive afterwards; maybe not a beating, that really didn’t seem to be the way Mark wanted to operate (although, in his current mental state, anything was possible), but he would undoubtedly find some way to punish her. She guessed she had done the smart thing, after all.
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