The Worst Days of Our Lives

Chapter 5: Cassandra

It had only been a week and the pair began to develop some resemblance of a routine. Everyday, Toby would get up at around the same time to do whatever he did, he never told her but she never asked. He would leave her handcuffed to the radiator that was installed snugly against the wall. He would turn the TV off and double-check that the remote was far out of her reach. She could think of two obvious reasons for this.

A.) She could turn it up obscenely loud and attract the attention of another motel-visitor, the cleaning ladies, or any other passer-by

B.) She would gain a sense of hope.

 

She assumed people were looking for him but Toby had the right idea, if she knew that there was some slight chance of saviour, she would cling to it and never let it go. Cassandra didn’t fully connect the fact that if people were looking for her, that meant Toby most likely knew her real name. She realized this on the 8th day of her captivity. The thought sent her into panic mode, what would the repercussions of her actions be? He was rough with her constantly, yes, every night was a new battle. However, she had yet to receive any sort of punishment. Over thinking for hours on end made her high-strung and skittish.

When the door swung open forcefully, she jumped violently. The light had faded in the room when Toby arrived. She sat shivering, attempting to remain motionless as he slowly stepped across the threshold. When he slammed the door shut, Cassandra squealed, not on her own accord. She bit down on her lower lip fiercely and waited for the light to flick on.

Toby remained standing just inside the doorway. She could not make out his features, only the silhouette of his large form. Slowly, the oppressing heat pervaded through the air conditioned room, it was stifling. Seconds, minutes, hours, she was not exactly sure how long he waited until he spoke, and when he did, he spoke in such a faint manner, she was not quite sure she caught it, “What is your name?” Unsure of how to answer this, she remained silent. Did he want her true name, the one she had presented to him, or the name he had entitled to her? “What is your name?” With every word he took a large stride forward, closing the distance between them rapidly.  He was in reaching distance of her when he repeated this one final time. “What is your name?” He punctuated his sentence by grabbing a fistful of her tangled hair and pulling her off the floor, as far as the handcuffs would allow. She felt her arm twist painfully due to her restraints. Her face distorted as she howled in pain. Her lip quivered fiercely and her legs kicked back and forth underneath her. “Clara!” She sobbed, her eyes finding his. “Clara,” she murmured between whimpers. “Liar!” Toby bellowed at her as he flung her to the ground with fury.

She curled around herself and weeped, naively thinking that was the extent of his assault. Toby moved across the room and retrieved the key to her manacles and returned back to her. He quickly removed the handcuffs but then his large hand wrapped around her throat, he hauled her across the room and up onto the bed. Her legs thrashed as he cut off her oxygen supply. Her nails dug into the skin as she tried to pry his hand away but to no avail. He crawled on top, throttling her. “What is your name?” He demanded, spittle flying from his lips. Her lips moved as to form a word but with no air in her lungs, no sound came forth. Toby loosened his grip, but only slightly, enough that Cassandra began to gasp for the precious life sustaining breath. “C-Caa C-C” His face moved to wear it was inches from hers. “Say it,” he instructed and released his hold on her throat. “Cassandra,” she answered truthfully, her voice frail.

“No! It’s not! It is not Cassandra! It is not Clara!” He roared. She shook her head back and forth. ”I don’t know please! Please stop!” She begged. “What,” he reached down and began to slide his jeans down, “is”, Cassandra was sobbing harshly and Toby brought a fist down on the center of her chest, knocking the air out of her, “your,” she screeched like an injured animal as he thrust inside of her brutally, “name?!” The pain was excruciating, unbearable. He wrapped both of his hands around her throat, causing the world to fade and dim. She vaguely noticed the absence of his grip around her throat. A sharp, stinging pain across her cheek brought her slightly back to consciousness. “Say it you dumb fucking whore!” She finally relented “Candice!” she wailed, “My name is Candice!” She whimpered the name over and over again until her body could take no more and she collapsed.