The big heavy door to the small tan room in a basement in Arizona opened and the kidnapper walked in holding a bag from McDonalds. It was grease stained and looked like it was packed full of everything on the breakfast menu.
“Do you like sausage biscuits or chicken biscuits? I’ve got some hash browns too.” He seemed less like the psychopath that had said he was going to eat her alive and more like an even nicer and almost human version of the slightly disturbed version from last night.
“Either one sounds good, surprise me.” Grace said trying to at least appear at ease in this insane situation.
“Are you always this nice or is it just when you’re locked in a dirty basement?” He seemed to be on a different plane of existence than reality, one where this was all part of a television show and it wasn’t as serious as it was. After all, even if there was a horrible bloody death on this show you would see the characters next week on a sitcom and it would all be okay. Did he think that? Maybe he didn’t realize the severity of what he had done and she could somehow get through to him.
“My dad raised me to always try to be nice to people right up until the point that they prove they are an asshole.” She smiled as if to show she was being funny.
“But what if you never meet anyone who’s not an asshole?”
“You have to keep looking; there are some cool people out there it just seems like they are way more not cool people most of the time.”
“Is your dad cool?” he asked almost as if he was a little boy that had to explainto someone that he had thrown a baseball through their window.
“Yes, he is very cool, he is like a Zen master when it comes to stress he just seems to let everything that would make me pull my hair out roll right off his back.” She said not knowing that his secret of dumping vodka into every possible drink he touched had become his recipe for Zen over the last few years especially since she had entered high school and the boys that would stare at her had become older, bigger and obviously more one track minded.
“Do you think he is feeling “Zen like” right now?” he said still in the persona of a little boy who had made a mistake.
“I don’t know, I have no idea what he is like right now or how he is handling all of this, I have never seen him deal with something like this.” The frankness that they were talking with was surprising and it made the whole situation more tolerable but in the back of her mind Grace was still aware of the monster that had kidnapped her.
“Do you think your daddy is going to try to kill me?” as the words dripped out of his mouth he seemed to transform mid-sentence back into that evil piece of disgusting shit that she had first known and she realized exactly what she was dealing with; she had seen something like this in a film at school. It was dissociative identity disorder. It used to be called multiple personality disorder and a lot of people mixed it up with schizophrenia but this was exactly what she had seen in the educational film where she watched a little girl who was sweet and talking about her favorite cartoons slide just like that into talking about how she wanted to bash her baby brother’s head in with her father’s shovel one night and see the reaction when her parents woke up and found him. Grace now knew that no matter what game she played he would still kill her because he had no control over the evil inside and even though she knew that somewhere inside of him there was an innocent little boy that was hurt very badly by his father. He had witnessed horrible atrocities carried out on his mother by the same father’s hand that in the end that boy would not be able to stop the man he had become to escape who he hated being.
Grace sat there quiet in response to his question. She had no idea how to respond and not make him angry and all she wanted to do at this time was not upset him.
“Well, do you?” He asked again “Think your daddy will kill me?”
“I think he will give you the money like he said he would.” She wanted to finish by saying and you will let me go like you said you would but she was now walking across a room that’s floor was covered in unbroken eggs.
“Well that would be a first for me sweet cheeks and like I said I’m good either way.” And then he seemed to ponder his next thought for a full minute before saying “Although getting the money and getting to play with my new toy as well would be the bee’s knee’s as they say.” He smiled at her and at once she knew that he had no intention of letting her go.
“So, you’re going to be an asshole after all?” she said and then instantly regretted it.
The backhanded slap came right across her chin and spun her around and landed her half on the futon and with her knee hitting the hard floor. She kept her head down in the disgusting pillow and was just waiting for the next blow when she heard him walk out and slam the door to the little room and then she could hear him knocking things over in the room outside of the door and then finally slamming the steel door that went to the outside world.
Her face felt like a combination between fresh sunburn and the feeling of her butt the time she bruised it trying to ride her father’s skateboard. She had never been in a fight and she didn’t think she would ever want to be in one if getting hit in the face hurt like this. She slid down onto both knees and reached her hand under the futon and felt around for a second and found the Coke can and then just knelt there like that in perfect silence for a full moment before bringing it out from under the bed. Her heart was now beating and for the first time she could feel the oppressive heat that she had been sitting in and noticed that her whole body was now damp with sweat. She removed the can and then she thought about how she had watched the stoner make the knife, like playing a Youtube clip in her head she watched it over and over trying to make sure that she didn’t miss a step and get it wrong and just end up making something that would just scratch him real bad, no she wanted to cut this son of a bitch deep and make him bleed.
First, she twisted the can and started the rip and when she had something that looked like a triangle, she began to fold it over like she was folding a napkin. Then taking what was now the right side to the middle and then taking the left and folding it in as well she now had what looked like a paper airplane that didn’t have quite enough material for wings. Then she folded that once more making a sharp pointed slender triangle. She proceeded to take off one of the thick wool socks that Betty had given her and used it to hold the knife as she slowly scraped it under the futon making sure not to make too much noise just in case. When she finished, it didn’t look half as good as the guy had made at school but she figured out by accident that she could bend the end of it and make a flat spot with which to use by putting her palm on it and shoving the sharp end into a soft place. She had decided that she was going to try to stab his eyes out if it came down to it or an even worse case scenario, if she was close enough to his junk with his pants pulled down she would use it to try to rip his ball sack open. This made her want to puke instantly just the thought of the filthy smelly man trying to put anything of his near anything of hers although she knew now that anything was possible and she would need to be ready for it. She sat back on the futon and tucked the knife into the pocket of the terrycloth robe that she noticed was already grey and dingy from dirt and who knew what else and let just a few tears stream down her face.