Читать книгу The Taken Girls - G.D. Sanders - Страница 13

Lucy was awake. It was pitch black. She’d woken in an instant. One moment nothing existed, not even a dream. The next she was suffocating.

The darkness pressed on her body from all sides. There was no sound. Silence enveloped her like a coffin. Without light there was nothing beyond her skin. She felt trapped, suspended in heavy oil. There was no air and she knew she was close to death. She wanted to scream but fought against the impulse which would expel life’s last breath from her body.

Tightly wrapped by the duvet, she threw it from her with a sweep of her right arm. Now it was her clothes that held her prisoner, preventing her from living. She was contained by an oppressive presence composed of all that surrounded her. She wanted to tear the clothes from her body, desperate to step into the night and feel cold air against her skin, to open her mouth and draw fresh life-giving air into her lungs, but she was held fast by the handcuff and chain. Unable to move, feeling that she would die if she remained within her body, she lay rigid on the bed and struggled to escape her physical being, to retreat within herself, to live within her mind, to create space and light. Only in her imagination could she wander in cool shade, turning her nose and mouth to the salvation of a sea breeze.

She held that thought, held her body in conjured liberty until she could briefly observe her plight. Slowly her rational mind reasserted itself. She was breathing freely but the air felt no cooler than her body. She was contained in an unyielding presence but her ribs were expanding and contracting with each breath. She held fast to the space and freedom she’d created within her head. Imperceptibly the panic subsided and she slipped back to the non-existence of a dreamless sleep. As she slept the panic dissipated, disappearing as night terrors disappear with the rising sun.

It was Saturday morning when he returned to the building and found Lucy still asleep. He checked her breathing and her pulse; both were fine. The effects of the drug should have worn off by now. Typical teenager; no wonder so many could be seen rushing to school at the last minute. With the paraffin heater, it wasn’t cold in the room but he covered her with the duvet, which must have slipped off during the night, and checked the handcuffs and chain. Satisfied all was as it should be, he left the room, methodically locking the door behind him.

Today he hoped she’d be ready to talk and they could at least draw up a shopping list. He was content to let her sleep while he ran over his plan. He knew that if he were to buy too many things for a teenage girl in one shop it could raise suspicion. To avoid that he’d plotted a long drive with stops at several towns. He was determined to escape detection.

There was still no sign of Lucy waking so he unlocked his private room and left the door ajar while he inspected his collection. First things first, he completed the label for last night’s rehousing and replaced the jar. Running his eye along the shelf he noticed the preservative in Nos. 4 to 6 was looking cloudy. Just then, there were sounds from the other side of the chain-link partition. He made a mental note to change the cloudy formalin at his next opportunity.

Before going to the waking Lucy, he slipped the Mr Punch reed into his mouth and pulled the hood down over his face.