Author’s note: If you are so kind to take the time to leave a comment, could I request that you try not to give away the major spoiler that has hopefully just caused your jaw to drop.~ Jenny

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was not migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf. This story segment first appeared on BigCloset Classic on Sunday, January 04, 2004 - 03:26 AM. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 43
 
 
I was speechless as Simon walked around me. Simon? It was Simon? How? Why? The questions flooded my mind.

Simon walked over, grabbed a chair and sat in front of me. His eyes were very cold and I couldn’t begin to work out what was going on.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

He blinked and frowned. "Didn't you hear what I called you? I called you Nick."

I looked at him and made a snap decision as to how I was going to respond. I shrugged. "Nic — as in short for Nicola? Big deal. More importantly, what have you got to do with all this. Do you know that one of those thugs outside shot Gareth?"

He shrugged and then sighed with exasperation. "Who cares? I call you Nick — as in short for Nicholas," he said slowly, as if speaking to someone who was not too quick on the uptake.

I frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He laughed. "Oh don't play little 'Miss' Innocent with me." He put a certain emphasis on the word 'Miss'. "I know your horrid little secret. You thought you were so smart, but I worked it out. You can maybe fool the rest of the world, but not me."

I screwed up my face and affected a look of bewilderment. "Secret? What are you talking about?"

He cursed under his breath. "Who you used to be — Nicholas Evans."

"Simon, I have no idea what you are talking about. You know who I am; I'm Nicola Evans. What's this Nicholas stuff?"

He looked at me without speaking for a moment. He nodded and spoke in a softer voice, "Alright, you want me to spell it out for you? You need me to show you how stupid you are? Last December I met what I thought was a pretty young girl — not the best looking I've ever seen, though — who had a decent voice. When I met her, I thought there was something slightly familiar about her, but didn't think anything more of it. Well, we signed her up and made preparations to record her album."

I sat poker-faced and listened as he continued, "It was maybe late January when I was going over the background details, her biography and the like when something struck me. I couldn't work out what it was, but I knew there was something significant that I was missing. It came to me a few days later: your name was Nicola Evans. That name rang a bell with me, but I wasn't sure where I had heard it before. I checked back through my records and what did I find? I remembered an appointment that I had with a loser guy called Nick Evans who wanted to be a rock star. This was laughable since he was such a wimp. You know, I just wondered to myself… Nick Evans? Nicola Evans? Then I dismissed it. Surely there was no connection between this deadbeat and the lovely young woman we had signed up. After all, it was just over a month after sending this Nick packing, that 'Nicola' turned up. Coincidence? I thought so, but something kept nagging me.”

"Yes, but I don't see what…"

"Then shut up and listen!" he said harshly. "Anyway, a certain day in May which I'm sure you'll remember," he paused and smiled in a twisted way, "since your mother died later that very day." I bit my tongue and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words hurt me. "I had been trying to get you to do a radio promotional slot, but you kept fobbing me off. You said something about a doctor's appointment. Not that I cared, but I did the whole concerned thing and asked if you were OK. You spun the 'women's problems' cock and bull story and those little nags came back to the forefront of my mind."

He leaned back in his chair. He seemed to be enjoying himself. "I got a certain… associate of mine to follow you that day. Harley Street, the rooms of a certain Janice Carson. I did a bit of background on the lovely doctor. She's an endocrinologist, and would you happen to know what one of her specialist interests is?" I stared at him and remained silent. "Let me tell you then. She takes a particular interest in the hormonal treatment of patients with gender dysphoria. Now that got my interest and I really started to be suspicious…"

"What a load of crap," I interrupted. "You think that because I went to a doctor who does some of that gender dys… whatever, you think that's me?" I laughed at him.

His eyes narrowed. "You have a different reason?"

I laughed again. "Of course I do! I have an under active thyroid gland and that is why I attend Dr. Carson." I shook my head. "You thought I used to be a man? Is that what this is all about?"

He looked a little taken aback and then regained his composure. "I'm not finished yet, why don't I go on with this little story?"

"Simon, I don't understand why you're doing all this, but please, you’ve got to help Gareth!"

He ignored my plea. "I had my suspicions, but not much else to go on. I watched you closely at every opportunity, but to all intents and purposes you seemed to be the young woman you purported to be. Of course, I couldn't claim to be disappointed with the way your career was going. As the 'discovering liaison' I earned a hefty commission on all your sales. Things were busy and I put my theory on the back burner until I got a call from someone who said she was an old school teacher of yours. Mrs. Forbes was her name, if I recall correctly, and she was looking for your phone number. This got me thinking so I decided to get one of my associates to pay a visit to your old school. He made an… unscheduled visit one weekend and did a little sleuthing. He brought me back a souvenir. Let me go and get it."

I had a fair idea what was coming and my mind was racing as I tried to work out how to respond. Simon popped out of the room and came back in with a book in his hand. "Recognise this?" he asked. He brought it closer so I could see the title.

"That's my old year book," I said trying to appear surprised.

"Do you know what I found in it? I looked for someone with the surname Evans and what did I find?" He theatrically opened the book and then gave a mock-gasp. "Look, the page that would have your name on it is missing. Why would that be? Perhaps because it would have said Nicholas Evans instead of Nicola?"

I laughed again and shook my head. "I don't believe this."

"What's so funny?" he said with obvious irritation.

I smirked. "You want to know why that page is missing? Remember the journalist Keith Wilkinson? He ripped out that page when he was down scouting round the school for background on me. That was why Mrs. Forbes rang me. She didn't really take to him."

"Why would he rip that page out?"

I sighed. "He wanted to use the photograph of me to show me in my earlier days. He asked my permission, but I refused."

"Why did you refuse?"

I shrugged. "I was eighteen and still a bit gawky. My hair looked awful, I had a crooked smile. OK, call me vain, but I didn't want to spoil my image with this photo of a simpering little girl in the article."

Simon looked at me long and hard then shook his head. "No, I don't believe it."

I sighed. "Did your clever little associate think to check the school records? To see if this mystery Nicholas Evans ever went to the school?"

He didn't answer so I prompted, "Well? Did he check?"

Simon nodded grudgingly.

"What did he find?" I asked speaking in the same slow voice as he had done to me earlier.

"He found a record for Nicola Evans."

I nodded. "Really? What a surprise. Now would you drop this stupid notion of yours and tell me what this is really all about."

"I'm not done yet," he said in a menacing voice. "The school records could have been faked." I laughed and he shouted, "Shut your face, bitch, and listen!" I glared at him and he continued, "I knew there was something being hidden, so I came up with the way to prove it. I started sending those anonymous notes to you."

"Bastard!" I hissed.

He shrugged carelessly. "Of course the Carstairs bitch showed them to me and I maintained we had to tell you. No point sending them if they didn't get to their target. As you remember, you saw the first three and I advised that we should tell the police."

I frowned. "If you were the one who sent the notes, why did you want the police involved?"

He smiled as if proud of himself. "There was no way of linking them to me. I ensured there were no prints of mine on the notes. I used paper that some of our secretaries had handled. Those prints wouldn't help the police. The real reason for getting the police involved was to smoke you out. You see I then sent the fourth note that I am sure you especially remember. It had the all-important word in it: transsexual. Then I waited to see if Carstairs would inform me about the note. She didn't. Would the police be told? Apparently not. Now why would this be?" He paused as if for effect. "Because you didn't want to reveal your dirty little secret."

I shook my head and smirked again. "Unbelievable," I murmured.

"You have a different explanation?"

"Well, yeah. You want to know why we didn't tell you or the police? Did you think we wanted a ridiculous rumour going round that I used to be a man or something? You know what the press are like. Truth doesn't matter. So what if it was the fabrication of a twisted pathetic mind." I saw him clench and unclench his fists as I said that. "For heaven's sake, they practically insinuated that Jools and I were lesbians with no factual basis whatsoever. What do you think they would have done if they had got wind of this make-believe note? The reason we didn't tell you was that we didn't want any leaks at all. It wasn't that we didn't think we could trust you — although, in retrospect, I can see that in a different light."

He got up and started pacing. He shook his head. "No, I don't believe you. You're lying."

When I thought about it, his train of thought now did seem to be circumstantial and built on a lot of suppositions. I thought I had shaken him. The fact that he had been right all along made it difficult to maintain my facade, but I knew that I had to if I wanted to keep the upper hand in this crazy situation.

"Why would I lie, Simon?" I said softly.

He stopped pacing. "No one gets the better of me. No one! Do you hear?"

I looked at him with pity. "You're crazy, Simon."

He laughed and shrugged. "It's been said before."

"Look in my handbag, Simon. Look at my I.D. My bag's in the corner where your thugs threw it."

He paused and then shook his head. "That can be faked."

"Take a look," I suggested gently.

He reluctantly grabbed my bag and unceremoniously dumped the contents out. I tried not to smirk when I saw him notice the pack of tampons that Jools had insisted I carry always. A woman is always prepared, she would say. He took my purse and opened it. He pulled out my driving licence and looked at it closely.

"Anyone can change their name and get a new licence," he said defensively.

"Look at the date of issue on it," I said patiently.

I was thankful for the painstaking care that had gone into making my I.D. documents. The date of issue was the same as that of my previous 'Nick' licence. It was four years back. He frowned and threw it down. "Means nothing," he said.

"Look at my National Insurance card. What name is on it?" Everyone knows that you can't get a new National Insurance card with a different name on it. He looked at it and scowled.

"You're trying to trick me like you've done all along. I'm not going to fall for it," he raged at me.

I began to get worried that Simon was actually unhinged.

"There's one way to prove this, once and for all," he said with determination. He called two of his thugs in and they uncuffed my hands and pulled me to my feet. "Take your jeans off," he ordered.

I stared at him. "Go to hell!" I spat.

He laughed. "Probably one day. Do it!"

"No," I said defiantly.

He nodded to the two men standing either side of me. They cuffed my hands behind my back again and began to unbutton my jeans. "Get off me you sick bastards!" I screamed.

They ignored me and roughly pulled my jeans off. Simon instructed them to cuff me to the chair again and he got them to tie my ankles to the legs of the chair. He sent them out of the room.

"Don't want to disappoint the boys," he sneered. "They think they've got a little hottie here and I've promised them they can have a go at you when I'm done with you." He laughed. "Half of them are probably already beating themselves off at the thought."

I shivered involuntarily. "You're sick," I said with revulsion.

He grinned. "I don't think they'll be too thrilled when they see what you've got in your panties there." He advanced towards me.

"Get away from me," I said with genuine fear.

He reached down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and yanked them down. He saw my chastity belt and stood up sharply. "What the hell is that?"

"What do you think it is? It's to stop perverts like you from doing what you're trying to do." The words were reminiscent of my altercation with Noel and the memory of that evening gave me another idea.

"What do I think it is? I think it is all that is hiding your secret now." He rubbed his hands together. "Yes, that's it. You wouldn't want anyone to see what you've got under there, so you hide it away."

"Don't be so stupid," I said. "It's to stop me from being raped. Do you remember that night in Kent when Noel assaulted me?"

He nodded. "So?"

I hesitated and in a small voice said, "He almost raped me that night. He ripped my clothes off and…" I shuddered, and it wasn't put on. "He was about to rape me when Jon heard my screams and burst in just in time." I looked up at Simon with real tears in my eyes. "Since then, I've been paranoid about being raped. I know I may be messed up, but I've worn this protection ever since." That was another lie, but he wasn't to know it.

He looked really thrown. "No way," he muttered. "No, it can't be." He paced again and then whirled round. He shouted in my face, "You're lying!!"

I looked away. "Give it a rest, Simon."

He stood in front of me. "Alright, prove it then. Open it and take it off."

I looked up at him and laughed hollowly. "Oh yes, like I'm going to give a potential rapist the key? Get real."

He grabbed my face in one hand and squeezed tightly. "Where's the key you dumb-ass little bitch?" he snarled right in front of my face. He shook me roughly and released me.

I swallowed hard. "I don't carry it in my purse or bag. Look for yourself. It's back with my luggage at the lodge. Why don't you take me back there and I'll be sure to get it out for you."

He slapped me viciously across the face and I winced with the pain. "You're going to regret trying to make a fool out of me. By the time I'm done with you…" He didn't finish his sentence.

I sat there petrified and another wild idea came to me. "Simon," I began gently. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." He turned back to me and was listening. "Please don't hurt me. I mean, it's not just me I'm worried about."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

I looked down at the floor and paused. I looked back up and, with tears streaming down my cheeks, murmured, "I'm pregnant."

"Bullshit!" he spat.

I looked away again and didn't say anything.

"That's bullshit," he repeated, but not as forcefully. "How can you be pregnant?"

I looked up at him and coldly said, "Do you want a biology lesson?"

He slapped me hard across the face again and I couldn't stop myself from crying.

"Who's the father then?" he asked.

"None of your business," I spat defiantly.

He raised his hand again and I cowered. "Please, don't hit me!"

"Who's the father?"

I didn't look him in the eye, but murmured, "Charlie."

He laughed. "The new boyfriend? Bullshit!"

I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes. "He doesn't know yet. Why do you think I was so moody and irritable the last few weeks? I missed my period just before we left for America." I paused. "I bought a pregnancy test… and it was positive." I chewed my lip and let the tears flow freely. "I haven't told anyone… I don't know what to do."

He stood there speechless. He clenched and unclenched his fists again. "I don't believe you," he said. His voice was nowhere near as assured as before. "I don't believe you. You're lying."

I shrugged and cried. "Whatever," I said between sobs. "I'm tired, I'm sore and I'm scared. Please, let me go."

He ran a hand through his hair, which only served to make him look crazier. "Pregnant, huh? Alright, let's play along for a moment. If you're pregnant, you won't mind taking another pregnancy test, will you?"

I shook my head. "If that's what it takes to make you give up this madness."

"Right, that's what we'll do," he said with grim determination.

I looked up at him. "You have a pregnancy test with you?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "Well gee honey, I'm fresh out of them. No, I'll go and get one from the… I'll go and get one." He looked out the window where it was getting dark. "Shit, it's too late today. If you're lying to me…"

"I'm not," I said sullenly.

He opened the door and, before going out, turned saying, "Don't go anywhere." He laughed harshly.
 

*          *          *
 
After a while I called out, "Anyone, please?"

One of the guys opened the door, "Whaddya want?"

"I need to use the bathroom," I said meekly.

They uncuffed me and took me to a dank little bathroom. They refused to give me the privacy of closing the door. I was careful in the way I sat to try to preserve as much dignity as possible. When finished, I protested that I was hungry and they gave me some bread, chocolate and water. I gobbled it down. I was taken back to the room I was being kept in and they were about to cuff me to the chair again.

"Please," I said softly, "I'm so tired. The chair is really uncomfortable."

There was a discussion between two of them and eventually one persuaded the other that I wasn't being unreasonable. A dirty mattress was brought in and thrown to the floor. They kicked it to one corner of the room where some pipes descended from the ceiling down to the floor. I was told to lie on the mattress and they cuffed my hands around the pipes. I was then left alone in darkness.

The tension of my encounter with Simon had left me drained. I sobbed with self-pity and fear at my awful situation. I didn't know what Simon was planning, but I was sure that delaying him as long as possible was in my best interests. How would I get out of this? How could anyone find me?

In the darkness, I did something that I hadn't done for a long time: I prayed.
 

*          *          *
 
Someone shaking me the next morning woke me. It was the youngest-looking of the men that were guarding me. I think I'd heard someone call him Wayne.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked. He wasn't quite as harsh as the others.

I forced myself to smile and nodded. "Please. Can I use the bathroom first?"

He un-cuffed me and took me to the bathroom. Then I was given a bowl of oatmeal and some milk to drink before being shut up in my room again. I asked to be allowed to sit on the mattress again and Joe, who was taking me back in, grudgingly agreed.

There had been no sign of Simon and I presumed that he had gone to get a pregnancy test. I was left alone for several hours and had plenty of time to think. It is funny how in extreme situations the mind can evaluate the rest of one's life with more perceptiveness than in the ordinary routine of daily business. I thought back over the past year and a bit. I considered all that had happened and I began to come to several conclusions. I thought I had been fairly sure of what I was doing, but the time alone in the darkness afforded me an opportunity to think again. When I reflected on my recent actions, I decided that I didn’t really like parts of the person that I had become. Did this mean I didn’t like being Cara or Nicola? I wasn’t sure I could say that. I certainly didn’t like the way I had been acting towards others. It was as if I was only seeing it clearly for the first time.

My mind turned to my father and I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks. In the face of possible harm or even death, I re-evaluated the way we had drifted apart. I had always been happy to lay the blame squarely at his door. I mean, he was the one who had rejected me. On balance, however, I realised that I was not without fault. I had known that my father would not be favourable towards my transition, but I had steamed ahead relentlessly without giving much thought to how he saw things. I thought of Jon and was again overcome with emotion. Although we were close, we had not been communicating clearly for a long time. There was so much that had gone unsaid.

These were loose ends that I had to deal with. If I ever got out of this mess, my mind added. Perhaps that was an explanation for this clarity of thought. The mind needs to cling to something else outside the horrific circumstances that one is caught up in. I had done some serious hard thinking and made several resolutions to tidy up the things that I had been ignoring if I got out of this situation alive.
 

*          *          *
 
From the light that was just beginning to drop ever so slightly, I judged that it was mid afternoon by the time I heard a car outside. I listened carefully and heard Simon curse as he entered the building. He was complaining about the weather and the road conditions. Apparently it had snowed heavily the previous night.

I didn't have long to wait before he came into my room.

"Comfy?" he asked sarcastically.

I shrugged. "I'm OK. Thanks for asking."

He sneered. "Yeah, I'm all heart." He held up a white paper bag. "Guess what I've brought for you?"

I didn't answer him. He opened the bag and brought out a standard pregnancy test. He got one of the men to un-cuff me and he threw the little package at me. "You know what to do with it?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I need to go to the bathroom."

I was escorted and again not permitted the dignity of privacy. I held the little pack beneath me as I managed to urinate on it. Simon grabbed it from me as soon as I was finished. It was as if he feared I would somehow manipulate or contaminate it. I was taken back to my room and he waited with me. He stared at the test. It had to be read after five minutes. I sat there and my heart was pounding within me.

He checked his watch again and then looked at the little package. His eyes narrowed and he looked at it even closer.

"Well?" I asked breathlessly.

He looked up at me and seemed confused. "It's positive," he said glumly.

I tried not to make my sigh of relief evident. I said a silent thanks to Dr. Carson. When she had explained the results of my blood hormones to me, she had made a throwaway remark about one of them. Apparently I had a slightly elevated level of a hormone called beta HCG or something. She said it was rare, but not unheard of in my condition. She had winked and laughed as she told me not to take any pregnancy tests as I might give myself a scare. Her little joke to me had saved me, for now.

"How can it be positive?" he asked.

I stared at him. "Can't you figure it out? I'm pregnant, like I said."

He slowly shook his head and looked to be deep in thought. "I don't know…"

I sighed. "You want to get another one and try the test again? I'm happy to pee on a dozen of them if that will satisfy you? Now can we cut the crap and would you please let me go?"

He looked up and frowned. "Let you go? I can't do that now."

"What are you hoping to achieve, Simon?" I asked with frustration.

He looked melancholic. "I was so sure…"

I asked softly, "Why were you doing this?"

I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he started speaking nonetheless, "I used to be in business for myself, you know, but wasn't too successful." He shrugged. "I found that dealing in… less than legal items was more profitable." He paused and I wondered if he was finished. He started again. "I got busted. Few years inside. Shrink assessments." He grimaced and paused again. "I got out and once I ditched the meds, I was more myself again. New name, new background and I was good to go. I always fancied myself in the music business. When you're making up your own résumé, it's not too hard to get a job. Keeping it is harder." He sighed. "I was on the ropes until you came along. Things were looking up then." He looked at me for the first time since he had started speaking. "I thought it was all going to go down the pan because your secret was going to ruin everything. I was going to go down with you." He slapped his fist into his other palm. "I couldn't let that happen."

He looked so pathetic sitting there that I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"What did you hope to achieve by this?" I prompted.

He shrugged and looked away again. "I thought if I proved that my suspicions were right, I could prevent it from becoming public knowledge and avoid the scandal. Keep my reputation and job intact."

"How would you have done that?"

He looked at me sadly. "It was going to be a permanent solution."

His words stung me and I didn't know what to say. Eventually I gasped, "Why?"

He grinned. "Look at Eva Cassidy. Her… departure didn't affect her sales. Well it did actually. She's sold far more since…"

My eyes widened. "How did you think you would get away with it? Surely you knew you'd be implicated."

He laughed. His confidence was returning. He looked back over to me and smirked. "Oh that's the clever bit. As you might have guessed, your little friend Aaron is probably currently behind bars, suspected of masterminding this little affair. Getting his prints on the note was easy. I was getting him to autograph loads of sheets. I used one for the note. The song lyric was a risk, but I felt sure you or Jon would get it."

I frowned. "What about the words Aaron said to me the previous night?"

He laughed. "I couldn't believe it when you told me. Pure coincidence, but it worked like magic."

I shook my head. "It doesn't explain how you thought you would get away with it. Surely people must be wondering where you are at present?"

He grinned. "They would check my hotel room and find it trashed. They would find some of my blood on the carpet." He showed me a little wound on the palm of his hand. "Self-inflicted of course. They would also find prints from our beloved Mr. Kramer on some items in my room."

"How?" I asked with incredulity.

He chuckled. "Simple. All American hotel rooms are boringly similar. The same lamps, desktop items and so on. One of my associates slipped into Aaron's room and swapped a few items with my room. Hey Presto!"

"That doesn't explain everything."

He nodded. "No, but when the ransom note arrived at Sony this morning asking for five million dollars for the release of Cara Malone and Simon Andrews, that would go a long way to explaining it."

My eyes goggled. "You're…" I couldn't find the words.

"Brilliant?" he offered. He waved a hand deprecatingly. "That's not the best part. Of course, how would we get the ransom money? Well we wouldn't. It's a diversion. I would happen to make a valiant 'escape' from my captors. Of course I'd have to ask our friends outside to rough me up convincingly. I'd crawl out of the forest to the nearest town and go straight to the police. I'd tell them about how I was brutally kidnapped. I'd tell them to hurry so they could catch the kidnappers and save my poor friend, Cara." He paused and smiled cruelly. "But they'd be too late. When they got to the cabin, the kidnappers would be long gone and all they would find would be…" He shrugged. "I'm sure you can work it out."

I shivered and found myself pushing back towards the wall behind me. "You're sick," I said in a shaking voice.

He nodded. "Probably. Anyway, I'd be a hero and would return to work where I'd continue my handsome commission on the blistering sales of our dearly departed. I'd commiserate with her friends; put a hand on poor Jon's shoulder and tell him how brave his dear friend had been…"

"Bastard!" I hissed. "You're twisted!!"

He chuckled. "And your secret would have died with you."

I shook my head. "Pity you had it wrong all along."

His eyes narrowed and he looked at me calculatingly. "I don't know about that."

"What do we do now, Simon?" I asked.

He smiled. "What can we do? The plan can't be changed, can it?"

I looked at him with horror. He laughed. "There's only one way out of this, but I'm still curious and want to make sure of something for myself." He stood up and mused. "I wish I'd bought a cutting drill in the village earlier today." He looked down at me and pointed. "That belt of yours is coming off. First thing tomorrow, I'm going to the nearest hardware store and then we'll open Pandora's box!" He laughed harshly.
 

*          *          *

 
Later that evening, Simon came back in with all of the other men.

"What do you want?" I asked suspiciously as I looked around at all of them.

Simon grinned. "I've just told them my theory about your past life. What do you think boys?"

Joe looked at me and shook his head. "No way, boss. She's a chick."

The others agreed and Simon laughed. "Why don't we check the evidence that is available to us?"

He gestured for them to pick me up and un-cuff me.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a tremulous voice.

"Take her top off," Simon ordered.

"Get off me," I screamed as I struggled with them. They were too strong for me and they pulled off my sweatshirt. I tried to cover my bra and breasts with my arms, but they pulled them aside.

"What do you think boys?" Simon asked obviously enjoying the spectacle.

"Nice pair," one murmured.

"Get a closer look," Simon urged. "Take off her bra."

"No, please, leave me alone," I sobbed.

One of them roughly pulled my bra off and again my arms were pulled away. There was a chorus of appreciative whistles.

"Do they look real, boys?" Simon asked.

"Hell, yeah," one of them said.

"But do they feel real?" Simon goaded.

"Please, don't do this," I cried.

Several hands started to feel over my breasts and I closed my eyes and tried to fight the rising nausea. I felt violated and almost wished that I could die. I opened my eyes again and noticed that Wayne, the younger one, was standing back and not taking part.

"Right, that's enough for now," Simon jovially called out. "After I finish up with her tomorrow, there can be plenty more of that. Don't bother putting her bra back on, she won't be needing it again."

I quickly pulled my sweatshirt back on and looked at Simon with pure hatred. "I hope you burn in hell, you bastard!!"

He laughed and shrugged it off. The men cuffed me to the pipes again and I was left alone. I cried uncontrollably in the darkness.

"God, if you're there, please help me. I know I haven't been the person I should have, but please help me," I prayed softly.
 

*          *          *
 
Early the next morning, I heard a commotion and sounds of digging. Apparently the men were digging the car out, as there had been more snow. Eventually I heard it drive off. Wayne brought me in some breakfast and I received it thankfully.

After lunch, there was still no sign of Simon returning. I realised that I had to try to do something or events were going to overtake me.

"I need the bathroom, please." I called out.

Wayne came in and un-cuffed me. He led me out of the room.

I looked around. "Where is everyone?"

He shrugged. "Simon took Mike and Vic with him to help dig away any snowdrifts on the road."

"Where's Joe?" I asked casually.

"Having a nap."

Wayne stood at the entrance to the bathroom. I took a deep breath and smiled up at him. "Wayne, would you mind just closing the door for a moment." I paused and looked down. "After last night, I… just feel like I need some privacy."

He hesitated and frowned. "I dunno…" He sighed. "I guess it's OK. I'm gonna be right outside, ya know."

I nodded and smiled gratefully as he closed the door over. Immediately I went over to the window. There was a board nailed over it, as the glass had obviously been broken a long time ago. The previous day I had noticed a tiny shard of glass remaining at one side of the frame. I reached out and began to pull at it. It began to loosen a little but I couldn't get it out.

"You nearly done in there?" Wayne called as he banged softly on the door.

"Nearly, be out in a moment," I called back.

I frantically pulled and yanked at the shard of glass. It was giving slowly, but not fast enough.

There was another knock at the door. "I think I should open the door again…"

Finally the glass came free from the frame and I realised that I had cut my finger. I secreted it in the palm of my hand, flushed the toilet and opened the door.

"Sorry," I smiled at Wayne, "I had to do… you know."

He grinned awkwardly. I stepped out and then stopped. He looked at me, "What's wrong?"

"Can I ask you something, Wayne?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

I looked down and then looked up at him feigning shyness. "Last night, you weren't like the other guys. You didn't… touch me."

He gave a half-smile and inclined his head. "Naw."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Dunno, just didn't seem right."

I smiled and blinked a few times. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

He laughed and nodded. "Sure y'are."

I was about to gamble on the typical male impulse and took a breath. I smiled sweetly at him. "I'm glad it's you looking after me today, Wayne."

I noticed him flush a little. I continued, "You're different from the others. It's like… you care."

I watched him carefully. So far so good. I smiled shyly and started to slip up my top. "Would you like to touch me now?" It sounded so awful and I expected him to march me straight back to my room. His eyes, however, were fixed on my now exposed breasts.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked softly.

"Hell, yeah," he said sounding almost breathless.

"Go ahead, touch them. It's just you and me."

He gingerly reached out and touched my breasts. I forced myself not to flinch. "Mmm, that feels so good Wayne."

I put a finger below his chin and lifted his face up to look at mine. I leaned forward and gently kissed him. Then with a sudden stab, I rammed the shard of glass into the side of his neck and kneed him in the groin with all the force I could muster.

"Shit," he cursed as he fell to the floor. One hand clutched at his neck, which was spurting blood, and the other cradled his groin.

"Sorry, Wayne," I murmured coldly as I reached down and pulled the gun from the back of his waistband.

I ran to the kitchen and pulled at the back door. It was locked. "Crap," I muttered. I looked around for a key, but saw none. I heard movement from the other room and Joe's voice. I looked around frantically and saw another door. I pulled it open and saw stairs leading down into darkness. A cellar of some kind. I threw the switch beside the door, which illuminated the darkness below. I closed the door softly behind me and descended the stairs. Each light bulb that I walked under, I smashed with the butt of the gun. I did this until I was at the far side of the large basement. As I smashed the last one, the room was plunged into darkness and I gingerly felt my way to the back wall. I had no idea what I was going to do and I sat down and shivered. It was damp and cold.

Before long, I heard the door in the kitchen above open. There was a faint hint of light coming down from above. I heard the light switch being thrown a few times.

"Shit, the lights are off," said Joe.

"The bitch," I heard a rasping voice that I presumed belonged to Wayne.

I heard footsteps slowly descending the stairs.

"Get out or I'll kill you!!" I screamed.

The footsteps continued. I held the gun out in the direction of the sounds and braced myself. I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger. The sound was deafening and the recoil forced me back against the wall.

"Shit!" I heard a voice murmur and it sounded like someone hurrying back up the stairs. The door at the top closed and I was left in silence and darkness.

I couldn't be sure that I was really alone and I strained to hear any sound. All I heard was a faint dripping of moisture and some creaking from floorboards above.

I could do nothing but wait.
 

*          *          *
 
A few hours later, I heard the faint rumble of a car engine. It was the others arriving back no doubt. By now, I was shivering so much that it was hard to concentrate on listening. My senses were heightened and I felt so edgy that I thought I was going to be sick.

There were sounds of raised voices above and shortly afterwards I heard the door open again. There were no sounds of footsteps.

"Nicola?" It was Simon's voice.

I didn't answer. He spoke gently, "Nicola, come on out. Let's sort this out. I'm sure we can work out another way out of this mess. Come on up and I promise you'll not be harmed."

"Go to hell!" I screamed.

"Come on, you can't stay down there forever, can you?"

It wasn't a pleasant thought. "Why don't you come down and get me?" I called out.

He laughed. "I might just."

I heard low voices murmuring but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Some voices were raised and I could make out the occasional word. "…not going down…crazy bitch…"

The door was closed again and I was left alone with my fears once more.
 

*          *          *
 
After a short period of time, I heard a lot of commotion above me. Feet were scurrying around and then I heard what had to be gunshots. I had no idea what was going on and certainly didn't plan on going up to find out. For all I knew it was a ruse to get me to come up. I thought I heard the door open briefly, but nothing came of it.

The gunfire continued above and then I heard muffled bangs. I had no idea what caused it and was totally confused. I resolved to simply sit and wait. Eventually the noise ceased and there was no more shooting. I had a terrible compulsion to leave the basement and try to make an escape, but I quelled the feeling and tried to remain calm.

I heard the door open from the kitchen and a voice called out. "Miss Malone, are you down there?"

The voice wasn't familiar, but I was too scared to reply.

It called again. "Miss Malone, are you there? This is the FBI."

"Bullshit!" I called out. I thought it was a trick. They were trying to trick me into coming out.

"Ma'am, my name is Special Agent Goddard with the Hostage Rescue Team. I'm going to come down to you."

"Bullshit!" I called again. "I'll kill anyone who comes down!" I must have sounded quite hysterical.

"Ma'am I know you've been through a terrible ordeal, but it's over now. Listen, I'm going to walk to the bottom of the stairs and switch on a flashlight. The light will be aimed at myself so you can see who I am. Don't shoot me."

I peered into the darkness and heard slow footsteps descending. They stopped and I saw a light go on. It illuminated a figure wearing a black jumpsuit and helmet. "Can you see me, ma'am?" the voice called.

"Yes, but how do I know you're telling me the truth?"

A pause. "I'm going to throw my FBI I.D. towards you. I can hear where your voice is coming from. Is that alright?"

"OK," I said reluctantly. "Ouch," I exclaimed as something soft hit me in the chest. It didn't really hurt, but it had surprised me. I began to realise that if he was that good a shot with his I.D. badge, he could easily have killed me already. I fingered the badge and it seemed to be what he said it was, but I couldn't see it clearly.

"I can't read it, it's too dark," I called out.

"I've got a little flashlight. I'm going to throw it to you. I'm sorry if it hits you, but it shouldn't hurt you."

Not surprisingly, the torch hit me in the chest a moment later. It didn't hurt, as it was only a pencil flashlight. I realised that turning the light on would give away my position. I foolishly remembered that the man seemed to know exactly where I was anyway. I turned the light on and looked at the badge. It looked authentic and identified the bearer as Special Agent Goddard.

I sighed audibly. "I can read it," I called out weakly.

"May I come to where you are?"

"Please," I replied. I collapsed back against the wall.

A figure appeared beside me. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

"I… I think so."

"Are you injured?"

"No."

"Can I take the gun from you?"

I realised that the gun was still firmly clasped in my hand. I opened my fingers and let him take it from my grasp. He put an arm around me and I shivered uncontrollably.

"It's alright, ma'am, it's all over. Let's get you upstairs."

He gently helped me to my feet and we started to walk slowly. "Are you sure it's all over?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes. Those men won't be bothering you again. They're dead. All four of them."

I froze on the spot. "What do you mean four?" I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. "There were five of them including Simon."

---