The Victim. G.D. Sanders

       21

      Gina tried to turn over in bed but couldn’t; something was holding her right arm. She pulled. It tightened round her wrist. Now fully awake, she opened her eyes in time to see the Decorart man loop a cord around her other wrist and pull it towards the head of the bed.

      ‘What the … You bastard!’

      Anger, not fear, rose within her. Colin was standing by the bed. She kicked out, but he stood back and her struggles tightened the cords at her wrists.

      ‘Gently. Don’t mark your skin. The cords are velvet-covered but even so you’ll not want them too tight. Struggling is pointless. You’ll not escape.’

      ‘You bastard. Let me go. You promised not to come in here.’

      ‘I said I wouldn’t wake you. I’m sorry that I did. Please don’t struggle. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You must see that it’s pointless to struggle.’

      Gina saw this only too well. The man who called himself Colin Smith stood at the foot of the bed with two more cords. Unless she could talk him out of it she would soon be spread-eagled, arms and legs stretched to the four corners of her bed.

      ‘I know I’m in your power. You don’t need to tie me down.’

      ‘Ah, but I’m afraid I do.’

      ‘Why? I accept that you’re stronger. I know I can’t escape. You said you didn’t want to hurt me. I trusted you, but now you’re doing this!’

      ‘More to the point, Georgina, how can I trust you? I may be stronger, but I need to sleep. You must see that it would be foolish for me to leave you unrestrained while I slept.’

      He bent, swiftly looped a cord round her ankle and secured her right leg to the foot of the bed. Moments later, her left leg was also tied.

      ‘Don’t struggle or you really will hurt yourself. I’m going for a short walk to clear my head. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon to get some rest. I suggest you do the same.’

      Gina heard him walk to the outer door. A key turned; the door opened and closed. She pulled at her bonds. They were secure. Her fear returned. Left alone in the flat she felt more afraid than when he was with her. What if he didn’t come back? She’d starve or die of thirst.

      Immediately, Gina felt very thirsty. Her mouth was dry. She turned her head to look at the bedside table. The near-empty glass of water was still there, but it was impossible to reach. She closed her eyes, trying to put water from her mind. The dryness in her mouth intensified. With her body stretched to the four corners of the bed, her arms and legs began to ache. She longed to turn on her side, to pull up her legs and wrap her arms around her knees.

      Eventually, Gina heard him return and she feigned sleep. The dryness and thirst had disappeared. His footsteps came to the bedroom door, paused and moved through to the sitting room. Despite her bonds, she felt reassured now that he was back. She was no longer alone. He would come if she called.

      Although she felt safer with Colin in the apartment, Gina was still struggling to come to terms with the horror of her position. Screaming and shouting for help had achieved nothing; he’d calmly waited for her to stop. Clearly, he was confident that no one would hear her cries. With no one immediately likely to come to her aid, and no one who would raise the alarm for at least a fortnight, she had to do something. To do nothing left Colin in control. Do nothing and any change would come from him. To improve her position, she had to know what best to do. Despite her ambivalent feelings of safety and threat in his presence she must get him talking. She needed to ask questions and use his answers to formulate a plan.

      Tomorrow morning she’d make a start. She’d try talking with him at length. How did he know so much about her? How did he organize getting into her home? Despite her desperate situation, part of her really wanted to know and she was certain he’d enjoy revealing how clever he’d been. Her interest would flatter his ego. She must steel herself to play a game, act a role, gain his confidence and find a weakness, a weakness that would offer a means of escape.

      Tied to the bed, half dozing, half planning, it slowly dawned on Gina that her best chance of escape, probably her only chance, would involve submitting to his desires. She cringed at the thought of him touching her. Her mind recoiled at the idea of submission. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her as she fought to keep images of the likely scenario from her mind. She knew she could disengage during the physical act, but the horror of the experience would remain. In taking her, possessing her, he would rob her of her self-esteem. She might choose submission as her safest option, but it wasn’t a genuine choice. The choice had been his. By engineering this situation, he was forcing her to do something her whole being screamed against.

      Gina’s prime wish was self-preservation, but her mind recoiled at the prospect of what survival might entail. What had he said? He didn’t just want sex; her submission wouldn’t satisfy him. Surrendering and giving herself wouldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t be content until he was sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

      Impossible! Gina shrank in revulsion from the prospect. She could not let this man take possession of her. She would not let this man own her. There had to be another way, but what that other way might be she couldn’t think. Only by getting him to talk could she find out. She must overcome her feelings and engage with him tomorrow.

      These thoughts repeated in her head, at first logically, but then in abbreviated snatches of ideas, each swirling after the other in a sequence that became increasingly random. There was no progression, no developing argument, just brief flashes of horror and hope, until she slipped from consciousness to a troubled night of dreams.