Page 85 of The Taskmaster
“We might need help restraining this one,” she was told. “She’s a feisty little thing.”
“Do you want me to get Carrie or Penelope?” Doris asked, but she was told, “No. We should be able to manage it between the three of us.”
They dragged me down steps into an underground cellar beneath the house. With each step, I kicked and fought, trying to get free. It was dark down here and the place smelt of damp, mould, and something else metallic. It seeped into my lungs like a virus spreading through me, and I coughed, panting as I tried to breathe in the stale air.
There were four dirty mattresses on the floor, covered in brown stains, and chains coming from every corner. They dragged me to a mattress in the far corner and forced me onto my knees. Then, I felt almighty pressure on my arms as they lifted them up and started to cuff them, tethering my hands to the chains on the floor. I kicked out, trying to fight them, but it was no use. I was powerless.
When they’d secured my wrists, they yanked on the chains and pulled my arms above my head, forcing me to fall onto the mattress I was kneeling on. The metallic smell hit me harder as my face fell forward.
“Roll her over,” one of them said, and I kicked out blindly, desperate to fight to get free.
Weight I couldn’t fight against pinned me down by my ankles, and I felt the cold metal clamp over my left ankle first. Then they pushed me, shoving me onto my back before chaining my right ankle.
I was trapped on a dirty mattress; I couldn’t move or sit up. When I tried to yank on the chains, the rough, rusty metal burned my skin. And tears stained my face as I begged, “Please let me go. My dad is a police officer, and he’ll be here soon. If you let me go, I’ll tell him not to press charges.”
The three women standing around me laughed.
“What do you say, Jilly? Shall we let her go now? I mean, we don’t want to get into trouble with her daddy.”
The woman she’d called Jilly smirked. “Your daddy’s not gonna save you now, little girl,” she said, shaking her head at me, and the others cackled.
“Angela, I think we might make his day if we show him this.” Jilly gestured to me. “He’s coming here later to sort some things out. When he sees her, we’ll be in his good books forever.”
They all nodded, and then the three of them walked away, climbing back up the steps. Not once turning around when I cried out for help.
And then, the hatch door slammed shut, bathing me in complete darkness, and I screamed. I screamed so loud my voice became hoarse and my throat stung.
But I couldn’t stop.
I would never stop.
I don’t know how long I lay on that stinking mattress, tears soaking my hairline as I whimpered and begged the darkness to help me. I needed to go to the toilet so badly that I eventually wet myself, because I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
No one came to bring me water. No checked that I was okay or even tried to help me. And I started to think that maybe this was the end for me. I’d die in a darkened cellar, on a mattress soaked with my wee, and no one would ever find me.
Was this what’d happened to Stacey?
Did they leave her down here to die?
I started to think about my family. Scared that I might never see them again.
Why hadn’t I listened to my dad, and let the authorities take care of this?
Regret hung heavy in my heart, pulling and contorting every part of me until I was struggling to breathe, and I startedpanting quicker, my mind going fuzzy as stars danced in front of my eyes.
In the distance, I heard the sound of a key fitting into a lock, and then a door to the side of me opened and light flooded the cellar.
“She’s having a panic attack,” a woman’s voice announced.
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” another woman replied.
I blinked, trying to focus so I could see who was standing over me. As I did, one of the women cackled, “I bet you’re regretting knocking on our door now.”
I’d cried so hard I felt faint. Screamed so loud my head pounded. My body was weak from the lack of water, but I still pleaded, “Please,” as my throat stung from the effort of trying to talk.
“You should’ve left well enough alone,” the woman I recognised as Doris from the garden said.
I had to remember these names and their faces.
