time.”
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I just assumed since you were a woman, you’d watch those type s of programs.”
“You shouldn’ t assume things about people.”
“No?”
“No. You don’t buy a book based solely on the cover, do you?”
He nodded. “You’re right, Nicole. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve known a lot of women who watched that type of thing.”
“Was one of them your wife?”
Quickly, he stood, reached across the table, and slapped me hard, bringing tears to my eyes. I’d never been slapped before. It hurt like hell. It felt like dozens of pins stinging my face.
I know he saw the shock on my face as I rubbed my left cheek with my free hand.
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said as he sat down in his chair again.
For a while, all I could do was look at him, shocked. I shouldn’t be surprised, of course. He was a psychopath. I should be expecting anything at anytime. But I hadn’t seen that coming.
“I’m sorry. Let’s just forget that ever happened, shall we? It’s your turn,” he said, indicating the cards.
“You can kiss my ass if you think I’m going to play with you after that.”
“Nicole, please.”
“No. I’m not in the mood to play cards anymore.” I tried to cross my arms over my chest in a childish manner, but with my right arm shackled to the underside of the table, I could only cross my left arm. That probably looked at least half as stupid as it felt, so I relaxed my left arm, letting my hand fall to my lap limply.
Maybe I was crazy for talking back to him the way I was. I know he liked it when I did, but I also knew there was a very thin line that I couldn’t see but knew I didn’t want to cross. It would take him from amused by me to furious at me in the blink of an eye. But I didn’t care at the moment. I was angry.
I didn’t talk to him much the rest of the day. I watched as he cleaned the house, but if he looked my way, I averted my eyes. Eye contact provoked conversation and I wasn’t in the mood for that.
While he cleaned, I pulled on my hand, trying desperately to free myself of the metal handcuff. I tried to bend my thumb over far enough into my palm to make it smaller. It didn’t work. I even spit on my wrist and rubbed it around under the cuff trying to create enough lubricant to allow my hand to slip through. It didn’t work either.
In fact, the only thing I succeeded in doing was rubbing my wrist raw and making the bones in my hand hurt.
There would come a day, though, when the cuff would be just loose enough for my wrist to slide out. Then I would be free. And Ron would be dead.
Chapter 18
A couple of days later, I was cuffed to the table while Ron was in the basement. He’d been down there for a while. I didn’t know what he was doing and I didn’t care. When he’d first gone down, I’d heard Melinda’s screams, but they’d fallen silent some time ago.
Now, I just sat and waited.
Eventually, Ron came stomping up the stairs in a huff. I could tell he was angry by the sounds of his footsteps. They were heavy, quick, and purposeful. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to face him, afraid I would be the center of his anger.
Turns out, I didn’t have to turn around to be the center of his anger. And if I had put half as much thought into it as I thought I had, I would’ve seen this coming.
I heard his footsteps approach me from behind. They stopped directly behind me. I caved and started to turn around to face him, but before I could, he had his right arm across my right shoulder, and with his hand, he held my jaw tightly. His left hand came up on my left side. Before I could register that he had something in his hand, he was forcing it into my mouth.
I tried to pull away from him, but I had nowhere to go. My right hand was bound to the underside of the table. He was behind me, and I was trapped in his arms.
To my surprise and his, I managed to keep my teeth tightly together for a full
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I just assumed since you were a woman, you’d watch those type s of programs.”
“You shouldn’ t assume things about people.”
“No?”
“No. You don’t buy a book based solely on the cover, do you?”
He nodded. “You’re right, Nicole. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve known a lot of women who watched that type of thing.”
“Was one of them your wife?”
Quickly, he stood, reached across the table, and slapped me hard, bringing tears to my eyes. I’d never been slapped before. It hurt like hell. It felt like dozens of pins stinging my face.
I know he saw the shock on my face as I rubbed my left cheek with my free hand.
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said as he sat down in his chair again.
For a while, all I could do was look at him, shocked. I shouldn’t be surprised, of course. He was a psychopath. I should be expecting anything at anytime. But I hadn’t seen that coming.
“I’m sorry. Let’s just forget that ever happened, shall we? It’s your turn,” he said, indicating the cards.
“You can kiss my ass if you think I’m going to play with you after that.”
“Nicole, please.”
“No. I’m not in the mood to play cards anymore.” I tried to cross my arms over my chest in a childish manner, but with my right arm shackled to the underside of the table, I could only cross my left arm. That probably looked at least half as stupid as it felt, so I relaxed my left arm, letting my hand fall to my lap limply.
Maybe I was crazy for talking back to him the way I was. I know he liked it when I did, but I also knew there was a very thin line that I couldn’t see but knew I didn’t want to cross. It would take him from amused by me to furious at me in the blink of an eye. But I didn’t care at the moment. I was angry.
I didn’t talk to him much the rest of the day. I watched as he cleaned the house, but if he looked my way, I averted my eyes. Eye contact provoked conversation and I wasn’t in the mood for that.
While he cleaned, I pulled on my hand, trying desperately to free myself of the metal handcuff. I tried to bend my thumb over far enough into my palm to make it smaller. It didn’t work. I even spit on my wrist and rubbed it around under the cuff trying to create enough lubricant to allow my hand to slip through. It didn’t work either.
In fact, the only thing I succeeded in doing was rubbing my wrist raw and making the bones in my hand hurt.
There would come a day, though, when the cuff would be just loose enough for my wrist to slide out. Then I would be free. And Ron would be dead.
Chapter 18
A couple of days later, I was cuffed to the table while Ron was in the basement. He’d been down there for a while. I didn’t know what he was doing and I didn’t care. When he’d first gone down, I’d heard Melinda’s screams, but they’d fallen silent some time ago.
Now, I just sat and waited.
Eventually, Ron came stomping up the stairs in a huff. I could tell he was angry by the sounds of his footsteps. They were heavy, quick, and purposeful. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to face him, afraid I would be the center of his anger.
Turns out, I didn’t have to turn around to be the center of his anger. And if I had put half as much thought into it as I thought I had, I would’ve seen this coming.
I heard his footsteps approach me from behind. They stopped directly behind me. I caved and started to turn around to face him, but before I could, he had his right arm across my right shoulder, and with his hand, he held my jaw tightly. His left hand came up on my left side. Before I could register that he had something in his hand, he was forcing it into my mouth.
I tried to pull away from him, but I had nowhere to go. My right hand was bound to the underside of the table. He was behind me, and I was trapped in his arms.
To my surprise and his, I managed to keep my teeth tightly together for a full
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