Chapter 97

Chapter 97

Naomi was poised to strike, the metal plate spinning frantically round in the darkness. But her arm was getting tired and her resolve weakening, gripped by a sudden fear that something had gone badly wrong.

Why had her abuser not come in already? Usually it took him no more than a minute to unlock and unseal the doors. But tonight he seemed in no hurry, spending five minutes or more making the most god-awful racket. What was he up to out there? Was he constructing something? Or destroying it? And why had he suddenly grown so careless? Normally he was scrupulous about slipping in and out as quietly as possible, but now he was banging doors, tossing things around, as if all caution had been thrown to the winds. Why? What had happened in the interim to occasion such a change in his behaviour? And was there method in his madness or had he just lost his mind?

This unexpected change in routine made Naomi profoundly nervous. Suddenly she was desperate for answers, for certainty. She'd been so buoyed up, so exhilarated at the thought of attacking her tormentor and gaining her freedom, but now she sensed that she wouldn't get the chance, that something significant had happened, altering the fate of both herself and her captor. The thought made her lightheaded and fearful, robbing her of her energy and resolve. Gradually, she slowed the spinning of her chain, gripping the plate gratefully, glad of the rest. She was overheating massively, the temperature seeming to have risen exponentially, the atmosphere much more cloying than usual. And it was now, leaning on her knees, exhausted and dejected, that Naomi noticed something else. She could no longer see her feet, her dirty socks swathed in darkness. Looking up in alarm, she realized that the thin slivers of light that peeked under the door, and through the join itself, were slowly vanishing, as if a giant hand was blocking them out. Terrified, she scuttled towards the door, but she was too late, the last vestige of light dying out as she reached it.

‘What the hell?'

She hammered on the door, desperate, confused, scared.

‘Please! Don't leave me here! I won't talk, I won't do anything bad, please don't leave me here …'

But no answer came, except for the sound of receding footsteps, then the main door slamming above. Distraught, frantic, Naomi stood stock-still, her thoughts of escape now in ashes. Something had changed, something had gone wrong, prompting her captor to take desperate action. Lost in the darkness, the horror of Naomi's predicament suddenly hit home with full force, rendering her speechless with terror.

Her prison was now her tomb.