Road To Nowhere

Chapter 8

Meredith had come back down around noontime with a turkey sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk, only to find that I had puked up all of my food from earlier. She called up to Tony and they both, not very gently, moved me upstairs to a small bathroom so that Meredith could clean the mess. I was starving yet somehow the breakfast she had given me was not settling in my stomach. It probably had a lot to do with my nervousness and anxiousness from being held captive in this house.

"Do you need anything? Pepto-Bismol?" Meredith asked, as I slumped against the toilet. I felt like I was going to heave again.

I heard Tony out in the hallway. "She doesn't need shit. Now shut the door."

"Right." Meredith swallowed and then left, locking the door behind her.

The room began to spin. I wasn't tied up at least. Maybe they could tell that I no longer had the energy to fight back. Maybe they thought I was going to give up. But then what? Would they keep me here forever? I was beginning to fear Tony more than Zeek. Speaking of which, where was he? And where was Dalton?

My stomach was in knots. The cramp in my foot had vanished but my ankle though bandaged and clean, was still extremely sore. I opened the lid to the toilet and heaved, nothing came out. I had nothing left.

I looked around the bathroom. The walls were painted a baby blue, like in a nursery and there was a single person shower in the corner with a yellowing curtain. The medicine cabinet hanging over the sink was dirty and rusted. I felt like I would catch tetanus by just looking at it. The bathroom was so small and cramped that I was starting to feel claustrophobic.

How long had it been? 2 days now? Or 3? I was losing count. And what time was it?

The bathroom door unlocked just then and I stared at it, afraid of who might appear.

"Who the fuck locked the..." he froze.

We looked at each other and I gulped. It was Zeek. I wanted to scream but I couldn't find my voice. I couldn't find the strength. I was absolutely petrified. His hands and boots were covered in dirt. His white t-shirt, freshly stained with blood. Dalton's blood? I shivered.

And that's when he smiled. "Hello pretty lady." He kicked his boots off. Took his t-shirt off and threw it on the floor. "Didn't know you were in here." He shut the door behind him, still grinning. He began unbuckling his belt and his jeans hit the floor.

"Please don't," I whispered. I was shaking. I tried to push myself farther back between the toilet and the wall, like that would somehow stop him from trying to rape me.  But he had something else in mind.

"Would you like to join me?" He turned on the shower, smiling an evil grin.

I said nothing. Didn't move a muscle. I felt so vulnerable, so helpless.

He stared at me for what felt like an eternity and then shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He peeled off his boxers and I buried my head between my knees. I was trying so hard not to cry. Why were they doing this to us? Why were they doing this to me?

I heard the shower curtain close and I instantly sprang up, looking around for some sort of weapon. My palms were sweaty and my hands were trembling. I quietly opened the cabinet under the sink. Windex, bleach, and Mr. Clean. Unless I poured one of those in his eyes, they wouldn't do any good. I continued looking, my heart racing, beads of sweat trickling down my temples.

He began whistling, which made me even more uneasy. I didn't know how much time I had left.

I opened the medicine cabinet, avoiding eye-contact with the mirror. I didn't need to see the broken girl staring back at me. I grabbed the first metal object I saw; scissors. As I reached for them, however, my trembling hand knocked over a bottle of prescription pills. And as it clattered noisily into the sink, there was a loud knock on the bathroom door, muffling the sound.

"What?" Zeek yelled angrily. The water turned off and the curtain ripped open. He immediately met my gaze. I was back in my spot between the porcelain throne and the wall, the scissors clutched tightly behind my back.  He grunted and stepped out of the shower, water dripping all over the floor. I closed my eyes to shield myself of his nudity. He yelled, "What?" again, even louder, and then was gone. But he didn't lock the door.

That's when I heard it. A high-pitched scream. A female scream. It most definitely wasn't Meredith's. It was a child's.