Page 14 of Acts of Contrition

I’m in some sort of basement or dungeon. The walls are stone, the floor concrete. There’s a single window set high against the ceiling, too small for a grown human to crawl out of it. It looks sealed, but I can’t be sure.

The room is barren, the light coming from a bare bulb set in the center of the ceiling. There’s a switch for it near a door I am positive is locked. Another open, smaller door reveals a bathroom that wouldn’t look out of place in a prison cell, but the light in there is off, so I can only make out a toilet, sink, and old-fashioned bathtub and shower head.

I am on a bed, it seems. This, too, wouldn’t be out of place in prison. The thin, white mattress is covered with a white sheet, and there’s a flat white pillow. The bed frame is metal, also white, with bars at the head and foot.

“What the fuck?” I mutter when I look down at myself and don’t see my black pleated miniskirt and red top, but instead a flowy white nightgown that reminds me a little of Carrie’s prom dress, sans blood.

My bra is gone too, and my panties don’t feel like the black silk ones I put on before going out. I move the sheet lightly covering my legs back and, before I can check my underwear, I realize the weight I felt on my ankle is not my high heel dangling by its strap.

One ankle is in a black cuff, chained to the bed.

It is then the panic swells in my chest, bursting forth like a racehorse.

I’m trapped.

Fucking kidnapped and chained up like a dog.

I kick the sheet the rest of the way off and stand up, wondering how much slack the chain has, its strength, and how the Hell I can get out of here.

Don’t panic now,I tell myself.You were locked up for three fucking years, you will not allow someone to do it again!What I need is to not be so weak and shaky from whatever he dosed me with.

If the chain is long enough, I can strangle him with it.

This basement is huge, spanning the whole length of the house above, and as soon as I test the chain, I realize no way in Hell will I reach the door. Or the lightswitch, for that matter.

He could leave me down here in the dark if he chose, for as long as he chose.

Panic swells again as I think about that and I crush it down. I go the other way, ensuring I don’t move too fast and make myself trip like some bad horror movie heroine.

I can reach the bathroom, and the light in there is motion-censored, turning on when I step through the threshold. As I expected, it’s dingy; clean, but old and worn. There’s a bar of unopened soap, toilet paper, and a few thin towels on the counter by the sink.

It hits me that I'm barefoot, but the basement is pleasantly warm. I’m not cold even when stepping on concrete. Well, not freezing to death isn’t exactly a comfort right now.

Then another thought hits me.

I keep assuming Pastor-in-Training Thomas took me.

What if he didn’t? What if he sold me or something?

I feel nauseous and lean against the bathroom door frame — the bathroom itself has no door — and take deep breaths. In the thick silence, I hear boots on stairs on the other side of the door.

When it opens, I almost feel relieved when Thomas walks through the threshold.

“Good, you’re awake,” he says, closing the door behind him. “And … dizzy?”

I shake my head. Do I fight? I’d likely lose. But the alternative is, yet again, letting a man do whatever the fuck he wants to me. He will hurt me anyway; why shouldn’t I get a few meager licks in first?

He steps closer and I decide to be stupid as Hell and lunge at him. I land a punch to his chest and he laughs.

Laughs!

Strong hands grip my shoulders and he holds me still, looking down at me with curious, calm eyes.

He doesn’tlookcrazy. Mike, all the men he brought to me, they all had either a crazy or evil gleam in their eyes. Enjoyment. Thomas has none of those things.

“Little sinner, you continue to intrigue me even as you seal your fate,” he says. “We have always fought against the things best for our well-being, haven’t we? When as babies we fought against the doctor for vaccinations, as small children we fought against naps, against vegetables… But the doctors and our parents always won out, hm?” He runs one hand in my hair and I flinch. “I will win out against your innate sin.”

Okay, I take it back. This fucker is batshit crazy for real.

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