the room and cried for a while, then cried harder because she didn’t know if she could sit down and cry without leaking all over. She thought of home for the first time in what seemed like a long time, and then cried even harder because she realized it couldn’t possibly still be home, not after all this time. Her handy box of tampons would not be sitting under her bathroom sink anymore, but would be packed away with all her other personal effects in a storage unit somewhere, or in her parents’ garage, or maybe in an evidence locker, but it wouldn’t be at home. This was home.
And she was just going to have to cope.
Olivia cleaned herself as best she could and went back to the sleeping pit. There, she ripped a number of wide, long strips from a canvas army tent mixed in with the bedding and fashioned a sort of sanitary belt to which she tied some wadded up rags. When she had paced the room long enough to work all the kinks out of the fitting of the belt and be sure it wouldn’t untie itself or drop a rag, she dried her uselessly leaking eyes and got dressed. There was a noticeable bulge where the rags were tied up, an even bigger bulge between her thighs.
There would be no hiding this.
Olivia got one of her sleeping bags out of the pit and wrapped herself up in it. She went to her alcove and sat down there, miserable and alone and too hot in the quilted folds of sleeping bag. Her eye fell on the little triangular gameboard, sent flying all those days ago when he had attacked her. She could only find five of the stones. She put what she could find back into the cooler. There was a chance she would eventually recover the whole game. It wasn’t as though there were a couch the stones could roll under, after all…and there were plenty of hours in the lonely night to look for them.
That thought made her future stretch out interminably in front of her. Olivia turned her back on it, on everything.
She was still there, staring without thought into empty space, when her captor came home. Seeing her in the alcove with her sleeping bag seemed to throw him. He stood for a long time on the other side of the pit, then finally showed her the backpack he carried.
“Food?” Olivia guessed.
“Yes.”
He didn’t bring it to her, just stood there and held it out. His eyes, even in the demon-glow of the firelight, were pained.
This couldn’t go on. It just couldn’t.
“Share? With me?” She wasn’t as certain of those words.
But he didn’t correct her. He took two steps forward, set the backpack on the floor, and retreated to the other side of the pit. He looked at the bedding, his face tight with shame, then up at the markings on the wall. He waited.
The pack was too far away to just lean out and get. She huddled in the security of her sleeping bag instead.
The food sat there, unopened.
He stood up suddenly, keeping his eyes averted, and left her.
Olivia ate alone. In addition to the bread and bottled tea, the pack contained a flannel shirt, heavily patched and threadbare but cleaner than her t-shirt, and a leather belt to go with her leather skirt. The belt’s buckle was a ring of what she ultimately decided was indeed solid gold. It touched her. She supposed it shouldn’t. Why would these creatures attach any special value to gold, after all? Then again…she didn’t really need a belt. And what could make a more romantic gift than a shiny, frivolous ornament?
He was trying.
After she ate, she had nothing to do but wander around and wait for the creature that imprisoned her to come home, which according to her watch was around midnight these days. So at half-past eleven, she washed out her rags, scrubbed herself raw from the navel down to her ankles, bound herself back up and got into the pit, trying to look as though she had fallen asleep fully clothed.
He did not appear for another hour and when he did, he only stood in the doorway and
And she was just going to have to cope.
Olivia cleaned herself as best she could and went back to the sleeping pit. There, she ripped a number of wide, long strips from a canvas army tent mixed in with the bedding and fashioned a sort of sanitary belt to which she tied some wadded up rags. When she had paced the room long enough to work all the kinks out of the fitting of the belt and be sure it wouldn’t untie itself or drop a rag, she dried her uselessly leaking eyes and got dressed. There was a noticeable bulge where the rags were tied up, an even bigger bulge between her thighs.
There would be no hiding this.
Olivia got one of her sleeping bags out of the pit and wrapped herself up in it. She went to her alcove and sat down there, miserable and alone and too hot in the quilted folds of sleeping bag. Her eye fell on the little triangular gameboard, sent flying all those days ago when he had attacked her. She could only find five of the stones. She put what she could find back into the cooler. There was a chance she would eventually recover the whole game. It wasn’t as though there were a couch the stones could roll under, after all…and there were plenty of hours in the lonely night to look for them.
That thought made her future stretch out interminably in front of her. Olivia turned her back on it, on everything.
She was still there, staring without thought into empty space, when her captor came home. Seeing her in the alcove with her sleeping bag seemed to throw him. He stood for a long time on the other side of the pit, then finally showed her the backpack he carried.
“Food?” Olivia guessed.
“Yes.”
He didn’t bring it to her, just stood there and held it out. His eyes, even in the demon-glow of the firelight, were pained.
This couldn’t go on. It just couldn’t.
“Share? With me?” She wasn’t as certain of those words.
But he didn’t correct her. He took two steps forward, set the backpack on the floor, and retreated to the other side of the pit. He looked at the bedding, his face tight with shame, then up at the markings on the wall. He waited.
The pack was too far away to just lean out and get. She huddled in the security of her sleeping bag instead.
The food sat there, unopened.
He stood up suddenly, keeping his eyes averted, and left her.
Olivia ate alone. In addition to the bread and bottled tea, the pack contained a flannel shirt, heavily patched and threadbare but cleaner than her t-shirt, and a leather belt to go with her leather skirt. The belt’s buckle was a ring of what she ultimately decided was indeed solid gold. It touched her. She supposed it shouldn’t. Why would these creatures attach any special value to gold, after all? Then again…she didn’t really need a belt. And what could make a more romantic gift than a shiny, frivolous ornament?
He was trying.
After she ate, she had nothing to do but wander around and wait for the creature that imprisoned her to come home, which according to her watch was around midnight these days. So at half-past eleven, she washed out her rags, scrubbed herself raw from the navel down to her ankles, bound herself back up and got into the pit, trying to look as though she had fallen asleep fully clothed.
He did not appear for another hour and when he did, he only stood in the doorway and
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