Serena stopped talking to her captor, puzzled and deathly afraid.
"My name isn't Jessica. Who's Jessica?"
"Oh, she's many parts of a lot of different people now. She's everywhere, all the time. She'll be back soon, and you're going to help me."
His voice had been dazed, like his eyes that she could still see in her mind. He was dreaming, about Jessica. Serena was even more terrified. Why was she here then? She had tried to ask him more, to reason with him, but there as no answer again that day - or in days to follow. He never listened again, and Serena returned to her yelling and hysterical crying.
Her eyes fluttered open one day to complete silence. Usually there were thumps overhead - his footsteps, furniture creaking, utensils clanging, muffled television or radio noise. But this time, nothing. Her resolve to get out renewed, even though she was exhausted. She rummaged hurriedly through rusted implements, old junk in boxes, until she found a piece of wire, ran up the stairs and tried to pick the lock like she had seen so many people do in the movies. For ages she was there, crying silently in frustration while it took so long to work. She almost gave up, until the door finally snapped open. Light from rays of the setting sun streamed in through the open window right in front of her, hitting her in the face. She squinted, put her forearm across both eyes. But she was free. Even in his messy kitchen, the air smelt so clean
She listened intently for a sound. Her heart beat hard in her chest and her eyes darted around the room, waiting for him to lurch out at her at any moment and wondering what the hell she would do if he did. She felt that she had no strength, and the clasp of fear around her throat made her feel as though she wouldn't even be able to utter a scream.
She reached the window and peered out. Trees. Trees everywhere. She seemed to be miles out of town in the surrounding bushland. How much bush was around her? How would he get back to town?
She tried to calm herself down. 'First things first - get out of the house, Serena!'
Passing through the living room quietly, she peered around. Everything seemed so normal, it could have been her house, or her mother's - no sign at all that the was capable of kidnapping someone for some bizarre purpose. She saw a framed picture on top of the small television, a picture of him. She walked over to it, wanted to see his face, to make sure she knew it. In this calm moment of - hopefully - near freedom, she would force herself to memorise his face.
In the picture, he stood in front of a lake with his arms wrapped around a woman. Was it Jessica? She was beautiful, though her smile was not as genuine as his. She seemed suffocated by his touch, and she leaned slightly away from him. Jessica had left him, Serena could see that now, could almost play out the events in her head.
"No, don't leave me."
"It's just not working."
"But I need you."
Serena jumped as a cat raced out from beyond an open door. She steadied herself against the television as she caught her breath and waited for the pain of panic to subside in her chest. The picture had fallen to the floor face up. She picked it up with shaky hands, looked at the picture more closely. Jessica looked nothing like her in the face, and not much in the dimensions either, but her hair ...
Jessica's hair was exactly the same as hers. Same length, same colour, same style.
The cat was at her feet now, purring loudly. It looked up at her and mewed when she returned its gaze, then busied itself cleaning something red off its front paw.
Blood.
Serena wanted to scream at the sight of it. It confirmed her worst fears. He had taken her to kill her! Again she tried to calm herself down. Perhaps she was just overwhelmed, she told herself, was imagining things. Her mind told her to get out of the house, but she couldn't. She had to see, she had to know. Who was he? What was he doing? There was a clue with the similarity between her hair and Jessica's and she had to know what it meant.
The door the cat had sprung from was ajar and creaked when Serena opened it. A strong smell became more powerful as she edged into the room.
Peering around, she saw it was like a cool room, a chilled pantry in an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It smelt of rotting meat. Walking further she could see no meat, nothing in there but bloodied utensils and plastic on the floor. Some spatters of blood still remained on the crumpled plastic and in the corner of her eye she saw a large brown-red mark on the floor. She turned her head, saw a long thick trail of blood lead to a closed door within the cool room. She stared at the door, frozen by fear.
The cat yelped again behind her. Serena jumped, spurred now to action. She followed the smear to the door and hoped in the back of her mind that the door was locked. She tried the knob. It turned.
© Cynthia M. Piromalli 2002
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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