Fourteen Days (19 page)

“No thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. He walked past her, heading for the kitchen. “Which room is it?” she called out.

“It’s the one straight ahead.” He reached the kitchen. “Just go straight in. She won’t mind. Honestly.”

Richard trailed after her up the stairs. He could sense her reluctance as she approached the closed bedroom door. Reaching for the doorknob, she hesitated. She then took a deep breath and gingerly opened the door and entered. Like the living room, the room was a mess. Dirty clothes were scattered across the floor, the bedside tables were filled with used cups and dishes, and Richard could smell a horrible, rancid stink in the air, prompting him to see if the window was open. It wasn’t. And judging by the aroma, it hadn’t been for some time.

Sophie was curled up, buried in a mass of duvet. “Sophie?” Christina delicately whispered. There was no reply, so she moved a little closer. “Sophie? Are you awake? It’s Christina—Christina Long.” Still no reply.

Edging closer, stepping carefully over the clothes on the floor, she whispered again, “Sophie?”

Christina was now standing at the side of the bed, leaning over. “Sophie?” Still she failed to answer. “Sophie, it’s Christina. Are you awake? Peter said it was all right for me to come up and speak to you.” Still nothing. Frowning, she reached forward to give her a gentle prod. Touching the thick and puffy duvet, her hand sank straight down to the mattress. With a look of puzzlement, she prodded another section. The duvet was completely hollow. She pulled the bedding away, only to find the bed deserted. She took a step back.
She must have the wrong room
, Richard thought, as he moved out of her way.

Christina turned to leave the bedroom.

Peter was standing right behind her.

“
Jesus Christ!
” she shouted in fright. “You scared me.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Am I in the wrong room?” she asked, a clear tone of fear in her voice. “She’s not in the bed.”

Peter took a moment to answer.

“Sophie’s not here,” he coldly said.

“Then where is she?”

A tear rolled down Peter’s cheek. He sniffed loudly, and then softly replied, “She dead.”

Richard could see the whole of Christina’s body shudder, causing her to back away into the side of the bed. “What do you mean? You sent me up here to talk to her.”

Peter moved closer to her, forcing her to sit on the edge of the bed. “She hung herself.”

Christina’s eyes widened with shock. “I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to move over to his side. “I had no idea. No one…”

“It’s your fault!” he snapped, mirroring her every movement. “You killed them both.”

“What do you mean? How could it have been my fault?”

“It was your job to keep him safe. Your job to help Sophie. And you failed.”

She managed to climb off the bed, then tried to slip past him out the door, but he cut off every possible route. Richard tried to move between them but couldn’t. He found himself watching from the far corner of the room, powerless to do anything, as Christina backed away from Peter into the wall.
Leave her alone!
Richard screamed. But no one took notice.

“We did everything we could,” Christina said, tears running down her face. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

Peter shook his head; his face filled with wrath, yet still focused. “We trusted you. You said that everything would be fine.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes things happen, things go wrong. You can’t always stop it from happening.”

“You’re a liar! You cut corners. You could have stopped this. And now I’ve lost my son
and
Sophie.”

“Please, I’m sorry for your baby, but I swear to God there was nothing anyone could have done to save him. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“And what about Sophie?” he asked, his fists clenched tightly. “What about her? Was her death just ‘meant to be’?”

She shook her head, now weeping uncontrollably. “No, of course not,” she struggled to say. “I had nothing to do with it. Please, just let me leave. I just want to go home. Please, Peter.”

He slowly shook his head. “I can’t let you leave.”

“Why?” she sobbed, spit flying out as she spoke.

Moving closer, he raised his fist up. “I just can’t.”

Richard watched in horror as Peter drove his knuckles hard into her jaw.

Christina’s legs buckled and her eyes rolled back.

Leave her alone
!
Richard screamed again as she crashed onto both knees.

Richard fought to move forward to protect her, but couldn’t.
Get away from her!

He closed his eyes in defeat as Peter slammed his leather shoe into the side of Christina’s face.

The sound of the door opening caused Richard’s eyelids to slowly open; he braced himself to see the state of Christina on the floor.

She wasn’t there.

The sound of groaning took his attention over to the bed. Richard’s stomach churned at the sight of Christina sprawled out on the bare mattress. A white cloth had been wrapped around her head and stuffed into her mouth as a gag, and her wrists and ankles were bound with rope to the bedposts.
Bastard!
he said.
Fucking
bastard!

Richard trembled when he saw Peter standing calmly in the doorway.

“I’m sorry I had to hurt you,” Peter said, as he walked over to the bedside. “I just got so angry. I didn’t mean to hit you. I’ve never hit a woman in my life.”

Christina struggled with her bounds, while the flesh around her ankles and wrists reddened. Cries of anger or for help distorted by her gag filled Richard’s heart with sorrow and frustration.

“Look, you need to calm down if you want me to pull out the gag,” Peter said, as if speaking to a child. Christina stared at him, her eyes streaming with tears. “Well? Are you going to calm down? Or do I have to leave it in?”

Christina stopped moving and began breathing noisily through her nostrils.

“There we go,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard.” He reached forward and pulled out the gag.

“Please, Peter,” she pleaded, “will you let me go? I’m truly sorry for everything you’ve been through. I just want to go home. Please. I’m begging you.”

He sat on the edge of the bed as if nothing was amiss. “And I will—I promise—but not yet.”

“Please. Let me go home. Carl will be wondering where I am.”

“You may be right. But he won’t find you, I’ll make sure of that.”

Struggling to breathe as the sound of saliva bubbled in her throat, she started sobbing. “He knows I’m here. He was there when you called me. He’s going to come looking for me.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it. But right now you need to get some rest.” He stood up and headed for the door. “And please don’t scream. It’ll only make things worse—for both of you.”

“What do you want from me?” she screamed, her body convulsing with anguish.

Reaching the doorway, he stopped and turned to her. “I’m just going to take back what you took from me.” He left, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Richard suddenly found himself at the side of the bed. He stretched out his arm to touch her skin but couldn’t.
Don’t worry Christina
, he said,
I won’t let him touch you. I swear to
…

“Stop screaming!” Peter ordered, forcing the gag back into Christina’s mouth. She bit down hard on it, clearly hoping to catch his fingers. She didn’t.

With the stale smell in the room, the stained mattress, and the state she was in, it felt to Richard that weeks had gone by, not mere seconds. The skin around her wrists and ankles was now bloody and scabbed. Her brown hair was in disarray and was partly stuck to the sides of her face with sweat. Her white dress was soaked through with sweat. And her eyes had deep bags beneath them, with the color drained from both cheeks.

She had clearly been through Hell.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, out of breath as he secured the gag. “Haven’t you learned anything after all this time? What’s the point in wasting your energy trying to fight me? It’s got you nowhere.”

Christina glared at him with bloodshot eyes.

Richard watched in horror as Peter sat on the edge of the bed, his hand gently placed on her thigh.
Get away from her, you sick bastard!
Richard screamed, as Peter delicately lifted up her dress.
You bastard! Get your stinking hands off her!
he screamed again, as her dress was pulled up past her underwear, revealing her bare stomach.

Richard struggled to breathe when he saw the bump.

No
. Richard shook his head in disbelief.
Please, God. No! Please
. He could feel his entire body tighten with repulsion as he watched Peter gently stroke her swollen stomach.

Richard could no longer bear the pain of seeing her in such a way, or that monster touching her skin. So he closed his eyes and prayed to be home again.

“Not long now,” Richard heard Peter say, as his eyes slowly came back into focus. “Another week or so.”

Please God
, Richard pleaded.
Please let me go home. I’ve seen enough.

“Best get some sleep now,” Peter said as he stood up from the bedside, heading over to the doorway. “You need your rest.”

He left, locking the door behind him.

Christina was no longer crying, just staring into space. Broken. The mattress was now stained gray and her dress clung tightly to her body with sweat and dirt.

How long has she been in here?
Richard thought. But he had no way of knowing for sure.
Maybe three or four weeks
.
Maybe longer
. But he could only guess. He knew very little about pregnancy, only what Nicky had told him, or what he’d seen on TV.

He watched her head slowly lift from the bed to see her baby bump. And then it dropped heavily back down.

She closed her eyes. Richard did the same.