Page 4 of Filthy and Dirty with my Captors

He doesn’t answer. He pulls down on the latch and climbs up the stairs, returning a moment later with a few bottles of water and a box of pizza from some place I’ve never heard of before.

Where are we? Why is he feeding me? Why do I feel dizzy? What did they drug me with?

“Ring that bell if you have to use the bathroom. We’ll be down to talk within the hour.” The man’s voice is deep and mechanical, sounding as though he’s using one of those voice modulators killers use in scary movies.

Great. Alongside the news article, some low budget production company will make a cheesy horror flick out of my story. I distract myself for a moment with which actress they might cast to play me, but I quickly figure whatever low budget company picks up my story won’t be using a big-name actress.

How sad is that? I die a virgin at the hands of sadistic lunatics and my tell-all won’t even be cool enough for a mainstream star.

I need to get this guy talking. The more he talks, the more details I’ll have. The more details I have, the better prepared I am for whatever comes next.

“About what? What are you coming back to talk about? And did you say we? Are there multiple of you?” I swallow hard, forcing a lump down my throat. “Why am I here?”

The man turns away before glancing back again. This time, I try to memorize what I can about him, but he’s covered in black head to toe. Even his hands are covered. “Your virginity,” he says flatly, then turns and climbs the stairs, leaving me with a sickening feeling that I doubt will go away anytime soon.

Fantasy Driver.

My heart sinks, and vomit rolls up my esophagus until I’m throwing stomach acid up into the bucket beside me.Shit!I didn’t randomly get kidnapped. The people who kidnapped me knew about my auction.

I’m such a fucking idiot! Of course, this is about the auction. Oh my God!My temples swell and flare, and a wild headache crawls through the front of my scalp and settles in the back of my head.

Owen was right. I shouldn’t have messed with that website. Of course, people can find me if they want to. It’s not that hard to hack websites anymore. I mean, people hack all kinds of important shit. Of course, they can get into a website likeFantasy Driver.

My mind races a mile a minute as I lean against the back wall of the stainless-steel cage, my stomach still unsettled.Are they going to sell me? Are they going to fuck me, then toss me for dead somewhere? Maybe they’re a group of do-gooders who believe they’re taking a sinner off the streets.

What has my life become?

My heart hammers and sweat drips down my face. I can’t believe I did this. It’s money. Who the hell cares about money? I don’t need it. I was doing fine at the coffee shop, and I’m sure Owen would’ve let me stay with him as long as I needed.

“Help!” I scream over and over again as panic rises in my throat and anxiety shutters what little power to think I have left. “I need help!” I don’t know who I’m hollering for. Maybe a neighbor will hear me, or maybe someone else is in the house that I don’t know of. Someone who doesn’t know I’m here. Someone with the sense in their head to call the cops.

I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to refocus my energy. Owen will notice I’m gone. He’ll tell Wolfie and they’ll look for me. I have no idea how far we drove, but it couldn’t have been far. It’s still daylight. Then again, I guess it could be daylight the following day, but I’m not too hungry yet and my hair doesn’t feel greasy. I haven’t trained it to go longer than eight hours without a shower, though I’ve been wanting to, given the benefits of less frequent washes. What I need is better shampoo, something with a clarifier in it.

What the hell am I thinking?I may never see shampoo again. Well, I bet I will. The captors will probably want me clean before they fuck the virginity out of me, or before they sell me to the highest bidder.

I blow out a heavy breath and lean back on the mattress, holding the pillow against my chest. Men…mostmen,are perverse, disgusting beings and I can’t believe I was about to willingly sell myself to one of them.

Why couldn’t I have listened to Owen, or even Jen? The few people that knew what I was doing were not shy about their opinions on the topic.

I pinch my lips together and hum under my breath. I could be at work right now making soy lattes and macchiatos. I could be having churros and chocolate for dessert tonight with my best friend. I could be settling in to watch idiots fall in love with strangers through a wall on some stupid reality channel. I could be crawling into my big, warm bed with my big, sweet, best friend one wall away. Instead, I just had to try a get-rich-quick scheme.

Heavy footsteps pace back and forth above me, rattling dust from the ceiling beams. I hear three distinct voices. The mechanical sounding man, whom I recognize right away, a normal toned man, and a man with a voice so deep I wonder if he’s using a voice machine too.

“We said we’d wait until tomorrow morning,” one man groans, though I can’t tell which.

“Relax,” a man gripes back.

They go back and forth like this for a few minutes, sounding disgruntled on the timing of my capture. I wonder why that would’ve mattered?

I’ve always liked mysteries, but I never thought I’d be sitting at the helm of my own. Turns out, being kidnapped takes a crazy toll on your brain, or this drug hasn’t completely worn off yet. I’m exhausted.

The men ramble on back and forth about something with strained voices. I wish I could hear them more clearly. At most, all I hear are broken sentences. They must have moved into another room because their voices get more and more distant, and the footsteps nearly disappear.

I sit up from the mattress and dry my eyes on the pillowcase before blowing my nose in the same place. I’m an animal now. An animal who blows her nose on her pillowcase.

Get it together, Rosie,I tell myself. Thinking straight is going to be imperative if I’m going to get out of here. I can’t cry nonstop and expect my brain to come up with the answers I need to break locks and sneak out of a house being guarded by at least three men.

The basement door creaks open, and one by one, masked men parade down into the basement slowly, methodically, purposefully. My breath catches and a tear threatens its way onto my face, but I push it away before it gets the chance to roll.

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