Chapter 56

Chapter 56

‘Help me, please! Somebody please help me …'

Naomi was screaming, breathless, tear-stained, dizzy with fear, as Mia lay unconscious on the ground, her damaged lungs slowly giving up the fight. Naomi had laboured to revive her friend, slapping Mia, stroking her, even resorting to spitting on her, rubbing the stringy saliva into her lips, her mouth, in a vain attempt to give her some hydration. But nothing had worked, her friend remaining supine and lifeless in her arms, so in the end she had abandoned her charge, shuffling away towards the hinged doors. If there was to be any hope of salvation now, it would have to come from outside. Mia needed medical attention, proper help – from their captor, a passer-by, anyone who could hear her desperate pleas.

‘We're dying down here. Please, somebody …'

But her cries echoed back at her, taunting and hopeless. Naomi was burning up, her body shaking, in the midst of a full-on panic attack, but she refused to relent until she had no strength or breath left in her body.

‘Pleeeeaaaaassssseeeeee!' she cried, holding it for as long as possible, before she running out of steam.

Leaning her head on the wall, Naomi breathed heavily, her chest pumping furiously, her resolve weakening with each passing second. Trying to hold back the tears that threatened to engulf her, she closed her eyes and muttered a silent prayer.

And then she heard it. A noise up above. Footsteps getting louder, heading straight for their cell. Moments later, the door sprang open, a rush of cool air flooding in as their captor entered. Naomi clung to the brickwork, barely trusting herself to stay upright. She was exhausted, distraught, yet relieved beyond measure. They hadn't been abandoned. He'd come back.

‘What the hell happened to her?'

Their tormentor was already crouched down next to Mia.

‘She has an infection, a high fever,' Naomi croaked. ‘Her lungs are shot. She needs to see a doctor; she needs to go to hospital.'

Ignoring her, he pulled a syringe from his jacket pocket. Rolling up Mia's dirty sleeve, he took his time, picking a clean spot for his incision, before gently pushing down the stopper. Removing the syringe, he watched her closely. Naomi did likewise from across the room, desperate for a miraculous recovery, any signs of life. A second passed, then another, each one feeling like an eternity. Then suddenly Mia gasped, sitting bolt upright, sucking air into her lungs wildly, before breaking into a coughing fit. Their captor held her upright, watching with evident concern, until the hacking eventually subsided. Then he laid her back down on the floor, where she lay, her chest rising and falling fitfully, desperately ill and wracked with pain, but alive.

‘Thank God …' Naomi whispered, relief coursing through her. ‘What is that stuff?'

But he ignored her, his attention exclusively focused on his charge. He was holding Mia, whispering to her, as if his ministrations alone were responsible for her recovery. Naomi shivered, not simply with pure relief, but also because the temperature in the close space had dropped markedly since his sudden arrival. And now Naomi realized why. He had forgotten to close the door. The hinged wall lay open in front of her, tantalizing, inviting.

Looking back at their captor, she realized his attention was totally focused on Mia. She was still bound by the chains to the wall, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. Perhaps if she got rid of her shoes, her socks, she could somehow slip her feet out of her bonds. It seemed far-fetched, but Naomi was seized by a desire to escape, to flee this awful place.

She took a tentative step towards the opening, then another, then another. Still he didn't react, so now she peered out, glimpsing the messy room outside, the staircase in the far corner leading up and away. Easing her foot out of her shoe, she bent down silently tugging her dirty sock from her sweaty toes. Then, gripping the ring round her ankle, she wriggled her ankle, trying to get some purchase, some movement. If she could just get her foot out, she could run, run for her life …

‘Want to get out of here, do you?'

Horrified, Naomi looked up to see that her kidnapper had risen and was now staring directly at her, a sardonic look on his face.

‘Well, you're in luck, sweetheart,' he continued, grinning. ‘I was going to use Mia tonight but she's no good to anyone, so I guess it's your turn.'

Suddenly Naomi was gripped with terror, the horror of what he was suggesting hitting home.

‘Bit of fresh air would do you good.'

‘No, please …'

Naomi was backing away fast, but he fell upon her faster, his fist driving into her stomach. Shocked, Naomi doubled up, gasping, and before she could react, before she could fight back, he was upon her, unlocking her bonds and snatching hold of her wrist.

‘No, no, I don't want this.'

But it was as if he couldn't hear her, as if her feelings, her anguish, didn't exist. Straightening up, her captor shot her a look of vile excitement, then dragged her from the room.