Page 72 of Searching for Hope

Once I allowed one memory to slip through, the torrent started. I’d fought them for so long that when they came rushing back they almost drowned me. I allowed myself to remember. To think. To hope. And it hurt like hell.

Despite having little talent, drawing is my only release. I need somewhere to release them before they became too much. I drew her and I drew him. I drew the man who I’d called Master for years and then fought to forget. I drew the friends I’d made, the women who, like me, were trapped at the mercy of men who considered themselves kings. I drew flowers. Irises. Daisies. Lilies.

When I hear the groan of the door, I quickly shove the paper back under my pillow. For some reason, I don’t want him to see. They are private. It would be like allowing him a glimpse inside my head.

“Today’s the day,” he says with overt cheerfulness as he descends the steps.

“The day for what?” I had to give up my despair. It would have fallen to insanity if I had not.

He doesn’t wear the balaclava anymore. I’ve found myself staring at him, waiting for the penny to drop, for some glimmer of recognition to spark inside my mind, but there’s been nothing. He’s a stranger to me. I only know him as he presents himself in this room. And that changes from day to day.

“It’s the day,” he says again, emphasizing ‘the’. He grins. “You’ll find out.” He looks around the room as though searching for something. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“Today’s the day you get to leave this bunker.”

“Leave?”

He winks. “Leave.”

The moisture leaves my mouth. I can’t possibly believe what he’s saying but there’s still that small part of me that leaps toward the suggestion of freedom.

“Leave to go where?” I ask, trying to calm the side of me that’s allowed hope to creep back in.

“Don’t you worry about that. There’s a plan in place and it’s not your job to know what it is. It’s your job to do as you’re told. Now,” he claps his hands together then frowns. “I guess we’ll just leave all this stuff here. No doubt you’ll be back. At least, I assume you will be. I have no idea what he’ll have in store for you.”

I know there’s no point in asking who. I think he enjoys tormenting me like this, dropping hints, dropping a fraction of knowledge as to why he’s holding me here and then sauntering away, relishing the awareness of my confusion and frustration.

He pulls a phone out of his pocket and stares at the screen. He’s never brought any sort of technology capable of contact with the outside world down here before. My eyes snap to it hungrily. Just a few seconds alone with it and I could be rescued. It would be that easy. And that hard.

“What if I don’t want to go anywhere?” I cross my arms.

He looks me up and down and laughs. “Like you have a choice.” When I lift my chin, he rolls his eyes. “You know there’s no point in fighting me. I will win. History dictates it.” He opens the gate in the fence. “Turn around. Hands behind your back.”

I obey, curiosity getting the better of me. He uses a zip tie this time and it bites into my skin painfully. Taking my arm, he leads me up the stairs, pushing open the door.

The sun is bright and it blinds me. Unable to shield my eyes, I lower them, waiting for them to adjust before lifting them to take in my surroundings.

There’s a pool. A house bathed in light. The garden is immaculate, almost staged to the point of disbelief. Nothing is familiar. He leads me inside and I glance around in wonder. I’ve been stuck down a hole while he’s been living in luxury. At least my last master allowed me to live in it with him.

“Wait.” We jerk to a stop. “Don’t want to give too much away.” A blindfold is wrapped over my eyes. “Don’t worry, it won’t be for long.”

He’s almost jumpy with excitement as he guides me up carpeted stairs, our footsteps muted by the plush wool. It’s only when I hear the click of a door shutting that he takes the blindfold back off.

I’m standing in a bedroom. His bedroom. I can tell from the posters on the walls. He’s obsessed with movies and there’s a poster of his favorite one hanging in glorious black and white on the wall. He grins when he sees me staring.

“Told you.” He speaks as though we are friends and he’s showing me his room for the first time. He takes me on a guided tour. I pretend to be interested, but really, I’m scanning the landscape out the window, trying to figure out where the fuck I am and if there’s any possibility of escape. There don’t seem to be any guards stationed on the property. None that I can see anyway. I can’t find any trace of security cameras.

There’s a buzz of excitement about him today. His moods often swing violently but this one is new. He’s like a little boy, innocent in his anticipation. It makes me nervous.

“And this is the bathroom.” He holds the door open, waiting for me to go inside. The walls are white. The fixtures are gold. The shower is so big it could easily fit two people. The bath is deep and long. There’s a vanity with two sinks, his and hers, and I wonder if he’s got a partner. I never thought it of him before, but I also never considered he lived in a place like this.

Stepping behind me, he snips the zip tie and my hands fall free. Pulling a towel from under the vanity he hands it to me. “Better get yourself cleaned up.”

“In here?” I ask. It doesn’t seem right. Almost as though I’m too dirty to be allowed in here.

He merely nods. “I’ll even give you some privacy.” And then the door shuts and I’m left alone. But this alone doesn’t feel the same alone as I’ve felt the past few months I’ve been stuck underground. This alone feels like freedom.

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