Creep - Jennifer Hillier [50]
“I don’t understand. Why can’t I move?” Her voice felt a little stronger now. She tried to look around the room but her head felt like rubber, lolling on her chest like a rag doll’s. It was bright in here. From somewhere in the room, a fan blew cool air into her face.
“Because I tied you down,” he said. “Look.”
She followed his direction and was shocked to see he was telling the truth. She was propped upright in a queen-size bed, pillows at her back. Her wrists and ankles were encased in thick steel bracelets attached to chains that were handcuffed to the wrought-iron headboard and footboard. A thick wool blanket covered her from the waist down. She couldn’t see or feel her feet.
“I don’t understand,” she said, again fighting the panic that started to churn in her belly. “I—”
“Are you going to throw up? Tell me now so I can get you a bin.”
She nodded. In a flash something metallic and shiny was in front of her and she vomited into it.
“Feel better?” He wiped her face with a moist paper napkin. Scented, like roses and vanilla, nauseating. A baby wipe. The straw touched her lips again. “Here, have more water.”
Her mouth tasted awful but she sucked anyway.
“Now, Sheila, I know you feel terrible right now, but that feeling will pass soon enough. It will change into something else, something worse I think, but I promise you that in a little while you’ll be able to think very, very clearly. Because in a minute your body is going to produce a surge of adrenaline and it’s going to help wake you up. Are you listening?”
She nodded. The voices coming from the TV were distracting. Democrats arguing with Republicans. It was difficult to concentrate. As if reading her mind, he muted the sound and stepped closer to her.
“Here’s the situation. We had dinner last night. I slipped something into your soda when you went to use the restroom. I’m sure you can guess what it was, because you always discuss date rape in week four of your social psych course. No need to panic, I didn’t rape you. With me so far?”
She nodded again.
“But I did bring you here to kill you. And I think it’s important you know this, that you understand this very clearly, because when you understand it, it makes my job a lot easier. And then other people don’t have to get hurt. Do you follow me so far? Do you understand everything I’m saying?” His voice was reasonable, soothing, and familiar.
She opened her mouth to say yes, but the sound that came out was no more than a squeak. Staring at him, she was helpless, frozen in the bed, her vision alternating between blurry and normal. Bile burned at the back of her throat. She vomited again and the bin was there to catch it. Once more he offered her the bottle of Evian with the white bendy straw, but this time she turned her face away.
“I need you to say that you understand me, Sheila.”
“But I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Please, James . . .” Her vision blurred. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, trying to focus.
“Oops.” He sighed. “I forgot, forgive me. My name isn’t James.”
With a grin, his fingers reached into his shirt. It was a full minute before Sheila realized the screaming in the room was her own.
The man was peeling his face off.
Five minutes passed. Or five hours. She didn’t know. She had passed out, and when she woke up, the lights were off and the room was pitch-black.
From somewhere nearby, the man laughed, delighted. “Never fails to shock.”
Sheila heard panting in the room and wondered if there was a dog here. But, no, she was the one breathing hard. She couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. A thousand questions flooded through her brain.
Who are you? Why are you doing this?
But the words wouldn’t come. All she could do was scream again in primal fear.
“You know, if I hadn’t prepared for this reaction, it’d be rather annoying,” the man said. “I turned off the lights to give you a minute to relax. Are you relaxed?”
Was he crazy? How could anyone relax in a situation like this?
“Silicone, darling. Just a little silicone.