CHAPTER TWENTY
Paula Gibbons no longer cared whether she lived or died.
She was not in agony, but her brain had to a large extent shut down.
When her toe was being crudely amputated of course it hurt tremendously and she cried long after she stopped screaming.
He had bandaged her foot carefully after cleaning it, gently stemming the blood flow and then almost with tenderness placing the absorbent padding on the raw flesh and wrapping it in a soft bandage. All the while she lay perfectly still, naked, manacled to the bed’s four corners.
When she could see through her tears she could see that he was taking no interest in the rest of her body shamelessly displayed, spread in the most undignified pose she could imagine. His total concentration appeared to be on her foot that he had mutilated. Then he had collected all his items, with the severed toe lying in the bottom of the basket, and left.
About an hour later she heard him unlock the door. She kept her eyes closed but was aware of him entering, approaching her bed, placing something on the small table beside it. When she opened her eyes her sense of smell was confirmed as correct as he was standing quite still holding a bowl and spoon. She knew to refuse would be useless, so when he offered a spoonful of broth and held it close to her lips she opened her mouth and took it. Then another and another until it was finished and he turned and left the room, locking the door behind him. Paula lay on the bed and tried to flex her injured foot. There was a dull ache but no longer the searing pain. As she licked her lips she prayed.
Paula was not a religious person, but prayers now came very easily for her. When she first had met him in the pub she imagined nothing more than a single romantic evening. He was polite, considerate, interested in what she talked about. A nice man. A nice man whose company she could enjoy, perhaps even sleep with, though it was not her usual behaviour to do so so casually. But he impressed her with his manner and mannerisms. So she might, might go so far as to spend the night with him. No further commitments probably.
She prayed for the first time when she found herself naked on the bed. She remembered part of the previous night, the leaving the pub and driving away, being in a flat and, she thought, having a glass of wine. But nothing else.
Then she awoke. And that was when Paula prayed for the first time. She prayed that it was a dream and was not really happening. A bad dream that when she shook her head wildly would fracture and she would find herself in her own bed in her own apartment. But that did not happen and she realised without doubt what her serious position was.
Prayers after that came easily. She prayed someone would come and rescue her. She prayed he would not rape her. She prayed he would not hurt her. She prayed that the knife she saw was not real. She prayed that what she realised he was doing to her foot was not happening. She prayed the pain would stop. She played she could die. That whatever it was that was happening to her would end.
It did not end though. She was still held captive, lying naked and fastened to a bed. Her head throbbed. She had barely slept during the night. Now she was wide awake facing yet another day in fear of what might await her. All she had had to eat during her captivity so far was the single bowl of broth with its very few pieces of meat mixed with what she thought was green peas. It was thick and on any other occasion would have been nourishing. Now, she did not even think of food. It was the last thing on her mind.
*
Above in the kitchen he sat at the table staring into the basket filled with feathers which had pieces of paper bound to them with rubber bands.
One feather had already been removed and lay in a blood red bowl on the bench next to the stove behind him.
His eyes roamed over the remaining feathers counting them and then he meticulously arranged them in a circular configuration, the spaces between them exact.
It had to be right.
Everything had to be just right.
He did not want a single thing to be inexact.
If everything was perfect failure would not result.
Only success.
Leading to further successes.
Once more he counted the feathers, confirmed the papers were securely fastened, and that they were perfectly laid out.
The basket had been washed and dried the night before.
The white linen cloth beside it was new and folded neatly.
There was a new pair of latex gloves also.
He had not had to wear gloves the day before but this time he might, so he had to be prepared. They were not the colour he would have preferred but white was unavailable so black had to do.
He had had to use yellow gloves with the ones before and they had been failures. Hopefully black would be better.
Implements would be decided by the feathers.
Last time it was only the serrated knife that was needed.
And the pair of surgical secateurs for the small bone.
He rose from the table and walked over to the bench where the single feather lay in the bowl.
Next to it was the short white bone.
Mhhgg.
He crossed back to the table and sat.
He stared at the feathers.
Then he reached into the basket and withdrew one and placed is carefully on the white linen cloth.
He looked at it for a long time.
Picking it up he peeled the rubber band down so the folded paper dropped onto the cloth.
With precise movements he picked it up and unfolded it.
Mhhgg. Mhhgg.
*
Paula thought she heard a noise above. She was not certain but it sounded a little like furniture being moved.
Again she strained her wrists and arms which were firmly fastened to the corners of the bed on either side of her head. She tugged her legs and they too were securely tied.
She had nearly forgotten, or ignored, the fact she was naked but now, feeling totally alone and helpless, she once more felt exposed, abused, shamed.
And once more she began to panic that her captor would rape her or hurt her in other sexual ways. Her heart pumped and blood coursed through her veins at a rate that brought a bright flush to her face. Red blotches that she suffered when highly agitated or angry appeared on her neck and her breathing quickened.
Her eyes began to fill again.
*
He got up from the table and walked into the pantry to the side of the kitchen.
On a shelf at the back, behind tins and packets of food and cartons of milk, he found what he needed.
He took it to the sink and washed it thoroughly and then left it on the drying rack.
To his right, above the refrigerator, he opened a cupboard and removed a stainless steel bowl about thirty centimetres across and ten centimetres deep.
This he also washed and rested on the rack.
Finally, from under the sink he withdrew two sponges.
Mentally he checked everything.
He was almost ready.