Chapter 3

Monday

What was your last thought? Am I dreaming? Remember.

It was a Thursday, no Friday. Vacation day. Two weeks off. Finally free. Went to work. Wanted to call in sick. Stayed up too late. Went in anyway. Fixed a thermostat. Snaked a toilet. Painted. Nothing different. 

Poured sweat weeding the garden. Sacrificed my back vacuuming the stairs. Clocked out. Went home.

Got fast food. My night was dog walk and video games. Garage door opens and dogs weren't barking. Why? Forget; get mail, bills, approved for something I didn't apply for, bills. Head inside. No dogs, no noise.

Aware, not alone. Where's the kids!? Head up, pain in my arm. Look, person with needle. It's dark, I can't see them. Arm tingles, everything fuzzy. Carpet close, smells like dog piss.

I open my eyes, the nightmare jail cell is real. And I'm still in it. It's morning, cold. The door still hums, and I mentally kick it open. My head hurts, and I realize I slept all night on a concrete floor. 

Checking over everything, I am literally left with the clothes on my back, and the rope. Still in my work uniform, luckily I wore a thermal yesterday. Nothing in my pockets, not even my glasses. Where are my glasses?

My cell is roughly eight by eight, concrete. Pink, everywhere. The walls, ceiling, floor all light pink. The toilet, bed frame, sink, fucking, pink. 

No padding under the sleeping bag, just the metal mesh frame. The toilet flushes, barely. Its parts, inaccessible as the lid is mounted to the tank. I need a 5/8 socket. Toilet needs a new flush valve, probably a new fill valve as well. The faucet spews grey water; I remove the aerator and flush the line. Hoping to flush the stagnant water. Take apart the aerator, rinse. I see white deposits, calcium. Just like home.

After ten minutes, the water turns clear and I test. Well water. Not the worst, considering I'm used to Iowa standards.

I study the walls, the cracks and notice a tiny camera lens, but continue, then another camera lodged into the ceiling corner. I futilely check the structural integrity; hoping to find its Death Star weakness, only to give in, and watch the day pass peacefully by. This cell looks brand new, prison level detainment. Even if I screamed, no one would hear. The surrounding trees would drown out whatever wasn't swallowed by the constant winds.

Looking around my prison cell, my isolation leads me to wonder who is responsible for placing this here, in the middle of nowhere. Running water. Sewer line. Electricity, I'm assuming two outlets, for the cameras. I look around in shock, at the pinkness of everything.

"What kind of university of Iowa shit is this?" I whisper to myself.

Electrified door. Electricity ran through the concrete? Rebar reinforced windows, not electrified. The bastard front door must be direct 240 volts. If it is, I'm lucky I'm not dead.  

No houses. No roads. Where am I!? Who would do this!? To me!? My stomach growls and I sip some well water.

"I need a fucking smoke." I mutter to myself.

Setting down on the cot frame, I try to figure out how I'm sleeping tonight, when the sound from a golf cart motor stops me. Then footsteps freeze me.

Looking at the door, I watch a shadow approaching. I set cross legged, with my best resting bitch face that my hunger driven stomach will allow.

A different female appears, her face blocked by a balaclava. Her eyes, ice blue. Her hair, short, blonde, spikey. Over her shoulder, an army rough sack she drops to the ground. She says nothing, just stares at me. I notice she's dressed as Harley Quinn. Her fishnets cause my eyes to double take.

No emotion, I matter of factly state, "Took you long enough."

She blinks, then moves close to the door. "That's cute."

"You the mastermind or the hench...woman?"

She kicks the bag close to the door.

"I've come to make a trade."

I sigh and look around, "Well, I suppose you could get some good scrap money for one of these windows here."

"Your clothes."

Turning back to her, my face has to be "what the fuck you say?"

"The boots, pants, socks, and both shirts."

Almost laughing as I shake my head, I have to ask, "For what!?"

She looks down at the bag, then back to me.

"You have got to be kidding me. What's in the bag?"

I already know all I'm going to get from bitch face.

"And the rope." Is her only response.

"Excuse me?"

"Your clothes and the rope...for the bag."

"Counter offer."

"No."

"Hold on "blue eyes", the rope, my clothes, minus the pants and thermal for the bag and your mask."

She stares me down. Her eyes are absolutely gorgeous, but I give her my best determined face. 

She waits a moment before snorting, "She said you would be a handful." and grabs the bag, turning away.

"Wait! Wait a minute Katy Perry, don't walk away! It's no fun when you walk away!"

I see no shadow, no response.

Still sitting, "God dammit dude...I'm sorry! Please come back!"

I give her just enough legitimate loneliness with defenses up to draw on any sympathy she may have. She can't be human, some alien goddess. The shadow returns, and our eyes meet again. It slightly takes my breath away, realizing just how striking her features are. Even with most of her face covered.

"Clothes off. Give me the rope. Do not try anything, funny man."

I hesitate and give her a smile, "You think I'm funny?"

"Clothes off, then you'll be funnier."

"Eh, you're not the hottest girl to demand that from me."

Her eyes say it under the mask, my jab makes her smile as she nods, "Yeah?...Boxers too."

I hesitate, "How about, counter offer, the sack, you lose the mask, I keep my boxers, you can have the clothes, and I'll throw in my virginity."

With that, she smiles. 

Nodding she counters, "Last offer, all your clothes, tie the rope around your neck and come here."

Pausing to lick my lips, and try to think my way out of whatever she's thinking at this point. 

"Now!...Or I walk." She grabs the bag, never breaking eye contact.

I'm numb as I slowly take off my boots. My face is hot with anger, I never break eye contact. My socks in my boots, I stand to remove my shirts. Flex the gut, my ego quips.

Her eyes are eager as I unlatch my belt, and drop my pants. I hesitate to go any further.

"Now the rope...put it around your neck."

I want to ask, "Are you serious!?" but I figure I'll get further just clenching my teeth. I grab the rope and reluctantly place it around my neck.

"Now, give it to me."

I look at the rope, to the sack, then back to those eyes.

They slightly squint, "Do as you're told!"

Slowly walking over, I watch my hand slowly reach the rope towards the door. Almost a foot of rope hangs out before she takes it, and I let it slip through my hand as she takes the slack away.

My eyes are slow to meet hers, as she stands close to the humming metal door. I feel her eyes just eating me up, as she continues to pull the ropes slack until she pulls me close to the electrified door. 

I'm inches away from her gorgeous face; I can smell her distinct sweet unnamed designer perfume, or hair product.

"Now, about those boxers."

Knowing how close I am to the bars and how close I am to her. I have to look away. 

"You...have the rope to tight...I'll touch...the bars."

"You don't say?...Here, let me help."

Closing my eyes, I hear a click then my boxers are at my ankles. Another click, and the hum returns.

"There, now kick them off."

I try not to register defeat, but I know my face is covered in shame.

She never looks down, her eyes enjoying my face too much.

"Aww...not liking a world where women have all the control?...Still want me to take that virginity? Right here?"

Her hand moves through the bars, as she pulls the rope with the other. Instinctively, I resist using both hands to prevent myself from touching the bars.

I hear her giggle as her hand caresses my thigh and hip. My ass jumps back, not wanting my arousal to lead to pain. I feel the rope pull harder, and I have to struggle to maintain myself as she uses both hands to pull me close.

"I can't take your virginity...without getting...a hold of him...come here! Hah-hah! Stop...fighting it!"

Struggling and weak, I feel myself getting closer and closer to the metal. I feel the electricity through the hairs on my ears. I feel static in my hair. 

Without warning, I feel her tongue run up my neck. Blood rushes downward and he's hard before I can think: football brain injuries.

He rises and touches the metal. Pain! Everywhere. My body goes numb and I hit the floor.

Luckily this time, I lie awake, unable to move. Just breathing short panic breaths. My skeleton feels the ripples of shockwaves. My body spasms, but my eyes move to her.

Looking down on me, she adjusts her mask before opening the door. She makes her way in. Gathering my clothes, then gently takes the rope from my neck. Still looking me in the eyes.

"Wh...wh...why?"

She turns her head, and smiles, "We told you..." Her smile fades, "...we're here to torture you."

She rests my head on the ground, then gathers everything, then walks out.

"You're...your mask!" I call out trying to keep her.

She returns with the sack, squatting down next to me. Her legs shine, catching my eye. She wears hose under her fishnets. Staring too long, the blood will rush south, so I look up.

She grabs my face, and forces it towards hers, "If I take this mask off, that means you can never leave. So how about it?"

Her hand moves behind her head.

"You want me to take it off!?...You want this to be your last home?...Just say the word!"

Feeling helpless, I give her nothing. Just clench my teeth and stare angrily upwards.

"Keep that resistance...you're going to need it."

Letting go of me, my head hits the floor hard. I watch as she grabs the sack and takes it outside. Depositing it next to the door, I'm helpless as she closes and turns the door back on. Her eyes burn holes my way before she disappears. 

"Next time," I call out, "send the other one...she's a bit nicer!"

I hear nothing for a response, only my empty stomach roaring for assistance. It takes me a bit to get my body functioning again. Legs are shaky stacks of jello. Arms useless. My head flops around with no strength in my neck. The whole time my eyes on the army sack on the other side of the door. 

I watch the sun's shadow move in the sky, as I slowly get my legs and arms to set me up. Then knees and elbows. My cock, engrained with a singe mark. Not the black and blue mess I expected. After an hour, I could move around again. Confident I could reach through and pull out my rewards, one at a time. 

Carefully, I gently pull the sack over and painstakingly open a quagmire of knotted draw string holding it shut.

Nothing's easy. Fucking bitches. This is a test, it's just a test. I try and remind myself, but after the twenty minute mark on the knots, my sweaty anger wanted revenge.

Finally, victory! I pull each item out, carefully without studying them. Slowly emptying the sack of its contents, then pulling the sack inside. My hard work paid off with new boxers, black sweatpants, socks, a white t-shirt, a red hoodie. Two bottles of water, two MRE's, a small lantern, a candy tin. Inside a lighter, three cigarettes, a small glass pipe, and one nug of marijuana. One notepad, one pen, one small bottle of jack Daniels whiskey, one deck of playing cards, one snickers candy bar. 

Taken back, I set aside the weed, cigarettes, liquor, and candy bar, all my personal favorites. The weed, the brand of cigarettes, liquor, and candy bar. Even the lighter is a Bic, better than the cheap gas station lighters.

Trying not to only focus on the random coincidences of them knowingly personal preferences.

I get dressed and try lying on the sleeping bag on the metal cot. With no padding on the frame, I settle for the soft concrete floor.

I try to slowly eat one MRE, getting my stomach to settle. My energy drops.

I pass on the cigarette, instead ball up the sweatshirt for a pillow and crash out in my new cocoon. My last thought, "It's not even seven o'clock, what a great way to start my vacation.