The Devil's bounty

Twenty-nine

It was the cold that woke her. That, and a sensation of sticky dampness running down her legs. She listened but could hear nothing. Slowly, she became aware of her body and realized she wasn’t lying in a bed. Air was moving over her. Her mouth was so dry that her tongue seemed to be glued to the roof. She literally had to will her eyes open and when she did open them it was so dark that she wasn’t entirely sure if her eyelids had moved at all.

After a moment, her eyes began to adjust to the gloom. She couldn’t see behind her. The floor was bare concrete. The walls were a blank grey. She was lying on the floor. The ceiling was bare, apart from a single light-bulb, which hung from six inches of electrical cord at the far end of the room.

She started to get up but couldn’t. She twisted her head to one side. Her neck had a crick in it. She could see her hand. It had a rope around it, which was fastened to a metal ring buried in the concrete floor. She moved her neck to the other side. Her other hand was also tied down. She tried to lift her legs and felt rope around them too.

Panic flooded her. She struggled and thrashed but the ropes held firm. By sheer force of will she forced herself to stop. She had to think.

Her mind felt heavy, as if her brain had been wrapped in cotton wool.

Think.

Think about how you got here.

What do you last remember?

She remembered walking out of the resort hotel and finding the bar.

Charlie.

She had been speaking to him. He was cute. He had bought her a drink. A margarita. She had kissed him.

There had been stairs. She had stumbled. His hands had been all over her as he had helped her up the flight.

Other things were coming back to her now. Things she didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to think about. Maybe it was better not to think about how she had got here and focus on how she could get out.

What if she had been left here? What if someone had dumped her in this room and something had happened to them? She didn’t have water. She would die. The panic rose again and this time she couldn’t force it down.

She tried to shout but the noise that came out of her mouth was little more than a croak. She tried again. It was louder. She kept crying out, she didn’t know for how long.

After a while a key rattled in a lock. She tried to raise her head. She hadn’t seen a door but she heard one open. It must have been behind her.

A hand settled on the side of her face. She shuddered. It rubbed her cheek. A finger traced a line across her lips.

‘Please,’ she heard herself say. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

She could feel the person crouching behind her. She could hear them breathing. They didn’t answer. They withdrew their hand and lifted her head, settling it on their knees.

The hand came back into view, this time holding a water bottle. It tilted the bottle so that she could drink. Some of the water trickled from the side of her mouth on to the floor. She was so thirsty that she chased it with her tongue. When she had finished it, the person lowered her back on to the floor.

‘Please, let me go,’ she said. ‘My parents have money. They’ll pay you.’

The person didn’t respond. She heard the door close and she was alone again.