Page 86 of The Taskmaster
Jilly.
Doris.
Angela.
When I got out, and I would get out, I’d need to tell my dad who they were and what they did.
“If you let me go now, I won’t tell anyone I was here,” I begged, and the front door lady, who I’d heard them call Angela, said, “It’s too late for that,sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere now.”
I was shivering from the cold, my lungs ached from the harsh, stale air and my efforts to cry for help. But when a man appeared in the doorway, a burst of energy to escape raced through me, and I tugged hard on the chains, scuttling as best I could across the mattress to get away.
“What do we have here then?” he asked, taking slow, measured steps into the cellar.
“We thought you might like this one,” Angela said, smiling a sickly-sweet smile at him. “She came calling earlier, asking for Stacey. Then we found her loitering in the garden, trying to break in.”
“I wasn’t,” I sobbed. “Please let me go. I won’t ever come back here again.”
The man tutted and shook his head. I was chained to a filthy mattress, but he grinned like it was nothing as he said, “But you found our playroom.” He tilted his head and grinned wider. I wanted to throw up. “We can’t let you go now. Not after seeing this.”
I shook my head violently, refusing to give up. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. I’ll go home. I won’t ever come back.”
“Her father is a policeman,” Angela announced, and the man laughed.
“Even better. I love fucking with the law.”
The man came closer, and I tried to get away, but the chains held me in place. He knelt at the bottom of the mattress and took a pair of scissors from his pocket.
I cried so hard I was hiccupping, struggling to breathe, and when he reached forward and shoved my skirt up over my hips, I shook with pure terror. He slid the cold metal scissors under my underwear and cut them off. I was petrified. But I couldn’t get away. I was trapped.
He grabbed my knees, and I struggled against him, but he was too strong, and he forced my legs open, humming when he saw me, and he told the women, “This one’s special. I don’t want to do it here. Take her up to one of the bedrooms.”
He stood up, peering at me with lascivious eyes as the women knelt down and uncuffed my arms and legs. I tried to make a run for it, but they held onto me so tightly, I couldn’t even put my feet on the floor, and they carried me from the cellar, through the open door, and into the main house.
The house felt empty as they took me upstairs. I screamed and struggled, cried and begged for help, but no one heard. No one cared.
“You wanted to know what happened to Stacey,” Angela whispered in my ear. “You came here to get answers.” I hung my head as we reached the top of the staircase, and they carried me into a small bedroom. “Well, now you’re going to get them. You’re going to find out exactly what happened to Stacey.”
Isaiah had his arms wrapped around me as I relived the story I never wanted to remember and couldn’t ever forget. I don’t know when he’d started holding me, I was so lost in the vile memory that I hadn’t even noticed. But I felt his strength, his warmth, and it spurred me on.
“They raped me, in that room. They held me for hours, it felt like days, and they took it in turns to hold me down while he violated me.” I swallowed down the bile in my throat. “I thought I’d die in that room. Part of me wished I had. They told me they’d done the same to Stacey, and that she’d been sent away. Sold to someone else who could enjoy her the way they were enjoying me. They told me they’d sell me too. I didn’t think I’d see my family again.”
I felt his arms tighten as he rocked me slowly and kissed the top of my head. But he didn’t speak. He let me get through it.
“Eventually, he got tired, said he was taking a break and left the room. They loosened their grip on me, and I took the chance, the only chance I knew I’d get. I bolted off that bed, raced to the door, and ran down the corridor. I flew down the stairs and thanked every one of my lucky stars that when I got to the front door, the key was in the lock and I could open it.
“I ran out into the street, naked, bruised, sore, aching, covered in blood and filth, and I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting away.
“There was a wooded area opposite the house, and I ran into it, not caring that the rough ground tore at the skin on my feet, and the bitterly cold wind nipped my skin like a thousand snake bites. Nothing could compare to the pain they’d inflicted. And as I ran, I heard him calling out, ‘Come out, come out. We’re gonna find you.’
“I didn’t stop, I kept going, my only focus was on getting home. To run to safety. I could hear his voice close by, taunting me, ‘You won’t get away. I’ll always find you,’ and then it started to rain. My feet started to slip against the wet ground as I tried to run, but the more the rain poured, the harder it became. And then lightning struck, lighting up the wooded area, threatening to expose me.
“He was laughing, I was frantic. And I saw a small gap in a tree trunk and decided to climb inside. I picked up mud from the ground and smeared it on my skin to help hide me, and I waited, barely breathing as I hid in that tree.
“My body was numb, my mind was too, but after a few hours, I climbed out of the trunk. I couldn’t hear anything, and I ran. I ran until my legs felt like they’d give away underneath me. Until woods and strange streets turned into familiar roads. And then, I made it to my street.
“I didn’t want my parents to see me; I looked a state. But I had no choice. I ran to the door, relieved when it opened for me, and then I raced upstairs as I heard my parents calling from the living room, ‘Abigail, where the hell have you been?’
“I managed to get to the bathroom and lock myself in. My mum came to the door and started banging, asking me to let her in, but I shouted no, I needed to shower. And that’s what I did. I showered, put on some pyjamas from the wash basket in there,and then I left the bathroom to find my parents sitting on the top of the stairs, looking like their whole world had ended. They were both pale, with bags under their eyes.
