Only the Strongest Survive (11 page)

“
No! I can’t
spend two years in
your damn
basement.”

He got up
quickly, took two steps toward her
, and
slapped her face. “You ungrateful bitch. Let me remind you that
only a few hours back you were about to leave this world forever
and begin to rot. I’m not asking for anything more than what you
took from me. Do you want me to call my brother?”

“No, John,” she said through tears. “I’ll do
everything you ask.”

“That’s much better.” He stroked her hair and
wiped her tears with gentle kisses. “I knew you could be a good
girl.”

*

Because there
was a chance Ronald might come, Emely had to spend
the next day in the attic while John was
preparing her new room in the basement. All that time, she kept
looking for an opening through which she could slip and gain her
freedom. The fact that the house was at least thirty feet high
didn’t bother her; she would find a way of climbing down. What was
most important was to find a suitably large gap.

The
attic measured over two thousand square feet. It
was filled with various junk items, which made it hard for her to
get to where she wanted to be. Thick, sticky cobwebs kept attaching
themselves to her face. She grimaced in disgust and sighed as she
wiped her face with her hands, never quite getting rid of all the
cobwebs. The worst thing was that the old yellow light bulb only
threw light in one part of the attic. Three-quarters of the space
was practically in darkness. She had to use her hands rather than
eyes to examine the place in the hope of finding a way out. When
she’d accepted that she couldn’t find a suitable gap, she attempted
to remove the old wooden planks separating her from the roof. She
pulled with all her strength, grunting with effort as splinters dug
into her hands. “This damn attic,” she groaned, “there’s got to be
at least one way out.”

On
ce more she launched herself at
the planks, this time even more ferociously. To her surprise, she
managed to remove one. Out of breath but full of enthusiasm over
her success, she examined what was behind the wood, hoping not to
stick her hand into some creature’s jaws.
What if there are poisonous spiders in these
woods?
she thought. She had read
somewhere that the most poisonous spiders in Australia often live
indoors, in attics and basements. She pulled her hand out
immediately.

But this isn’t Australia.
She
tried to remember if anything poisonous did live in these parts.
Looking at the light bulb, she thought how to direct more light at
the opening she had just created. After a while she reinserted her
hand into the dark space. Only a few inches away she felt some
damp, artificial material that she thought must be the insulation
under the roof tiles.
If I
could penetrate that with something solid ….
She began looking in the cardboard boxes overflowing with
various materials. When she pulled out some old clothes, dust
spread everywhere and made her cough. Every box was covered with a
thick layer of it and the heavy boxes often slipped from her hands.
In some of the boxes she found old glass jars obviously intended
for pickling. One of the boxes fell from her hands and the glass
made a clanking noise. She put her hand on her mouth in fear that
the noise might attract John’s attention, but forgot how dirty she
was and now began spitting and wiping her lips on her sleeve. “Oh,
let it all go to hell.”

She searched
nearly all the boxes but couldn
’t find a
suitable metal object with which she would be able to break the
thick material that was preventing moisture from penetrating the
house. She tried jabbing at it with plastic and wooden objects, but
they were not sharp enough. In the end she collapsed onto an old
mattress. The tears that she had until then managed to keep
back—although they had been gathering in her eyes ever since John
had shut her in there, and which she did not want to wipe with her
dirty hands—now ran freely down her grimy cheeks and she began
crying hysterically.

*

“
What’s
happened to you?” John
asked.

She straightened up in a flash.

“
You look as
if you’ve climbed down a chimney
. You’re
filthy. It’s clear you’ve been trying to find a way
out.”

Emely was looking at the floor, hoping he
would not hit her again.

John had
heard her rummaging in the attic. He knew what a
decisive and brave woman she was and that she would not
simply surrender to her fate but try to fight it in every possible
way, to find a way of escaping. When his curiosity got the better
of him, he had quietly opened the door to see what she was doing.
He saw her opening the cardboard boxes.
Let her try. Sooner or later she’ll have to give
up.

He took hold
of her long
reddish-brown hair which was
now matted with dirt and unpleasant to the touch. “I told you how
to behave in this household. Do you want me to tell you again?” he
said as he pulled her hair and came so close to her face that she
could feel his breath.

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” she said
calmly.

“Good.”

He
gave
her a cell phone. “It’s time for you
to arrange that money transfer.”

Obediently she took the phone and dialed a
number she knew by heart.

John
whispered into her ear
, “If you get the
police, you’ll find yourself in the woods again.”

“
I
understand.”

He shoved his bank account number in her
face.

After talking
to the bank
she cut the line, looked down
at the wooden floor, and said in a weary voice, “The money will be
in your account in three days.”

“
Great,” he
said in satisfaction
, and immediately
went back down to the basement.

As
Emely had watched him leave she felt such hatred
as she had never experienced before. Without a thought she could
have stuck a long knife in his back so that he would spend a long
time writhing in pain in front of her. She would be all too glad to
press the trigger of a gun if she had one and riddle his head with
bullets. If she had some acid, she would pour it on him and watch
his body turn into an unrecognizable heap. Not only did she want to
kill him, she wanted him to suffer in the way that at least vaguely
resembled her suffering when she was shut in the coffin. All her
muscles tensed as she thought about all the ways of hurting him, if
only she could overpower him and make him be the one who had to
obey her.

I
must get away.
These words kept going
through her mind. When she was not crying, she was devising a plan
of escape. She dared not even contemplate what lay ahead and
directed all her thoughts to her salvation. She knew that if she
started thinking about those close to her, she’d never stop
crying.
I’ll start feeling
sorry for myself and it’ll only make things worse. I won’t stay
here for more than five days.

She
didn’t care if there were thick woods all
around.
All the better.
If she could somehow manage to get out of the
house, no one could find her.
Dark, dense woods can be a good hiding spot. They can’t be
so big that I would not find my way out eventually. I’ll walk for
days if necessary and get to a road somehow.

She decided
to use the first moment when John was not paying attention and hit
him with a large object.
Knock
him out and then I’ll escape.

There were
all sorts of objects in the attic which she could use to
stun or even kill him with a single blow. She
looked around to see if there was a blade of some kind. It was full
of toys and furniture, but nothing sharp. She took a small piece of
wood and waved it in the air a few times, gritting her teeth as she
imagined hitting John’s head.

I
can’t last two years in here. Even if I manage to increase the
capital the way he wants me to, I doubt that he would really let me
go. Maybe he’ll ask me to double the
amount. Once he gets the taste for money, he’ll only pull
the reins even tighter.

She was more
and more convinced that she had to do something sooner and again
waved the
piece of wood.

In the
evening he came
up again. He was tired
and in a bad mood. “So, sweetie, it’ll do for now.”

With her
right hand
Emely reached for the wooden
stick she had hidden under the mattress. She had thought at least a
thousand times about what she’d do when he came and decided to hit
him just above his neck. She began trembling with fear as she was
about to squeeze the wood with her right hand, when he grabbed her
left hand and pulled her like an old sack.

“
Hurry up, I
haven’t got much time.
”

Helpless, she
looked back at the lost opportunity. She
awkwardly followed him down to the basement.

The heavy
door creaked, drawing attention to the rusty hinges that were
barely still performing their d
uty. The
strong smell of rot almost made her heave. A dark, frightening
space appeared in front of her. The thought of having to go down
the steep narrow steps that descended into the darkness seemed all
but attractive. He could push her and she’d tumble down and remain
lying at the bottom, dead. No one would find her then.

“
No, I don’t
want to go down there,” she shouted, grabbing hold of the
doorframe.

“
What,
you think you’re in a hotel?” He pulled her arm
so violently that she could see his fingerprints on her skin for a
few days afterward. And yet she continued to scream and fight. As
if this didn’t bother him at all, he kept dragging her behind
him.

The
heavy
wooden door to the room was
additionally strengthened with some metal and a lock. He opened it
and pushed her inside. “As punishment, you don’t get any dinner
tonight.”

She looked at
the damp walls
… not a single window. The
only source of light was a bare light bulb hanging from a bent
wire.

“No, I can’t stay here!” she screamed as loud
as she could.

She turned
around, avoided him
deftly, and began
running along the dark corridor. She managed only a few steps when
he caught her and dragged her back, writhing and screaming like a
wild animal. It was clear she was breaking down.

“
Listen,
you
spoiled bitch. I know you’re used to
big, luxurious rooms. I know very well that you’d like a Jacuzzi
and silk sheets on your bed. But you’ll get none of that here,
regrettably.”

She
beat on his chest.

“
Calm down,
will you! You’ll get used to it in a few days. It’s your new home,
like it or not.” He threw her on a wood-framed bed, which creaked
noisily.

Emely turned around, wanting to get up.

“Be still!”

She
stood up, just wanting out of that
basement.

“
I’ve had
enough of you now
.”

He slapped
her
so hard on the face that everything
went dark for a moment. John pushed her back onto the bed. She
sobbed, then began screaming again, angry and frightened. She hated
being underground and he was forcing her to live there.

*

Moaning
loudly, she wasn
’t even aware that he had
left long ago. She lifted her head, which she had pushed deep into
the pillow, and began looking around the room. It measured about
fifteen feet by twelve. In addition to the bed, there was a closet
and a writing desk. She sat on the edge of the bed and put her foot
in a big bowl. “Oh no,” she groaned. “Does he really think I’ll use
a chamber pot?”

There was a
basin in the room. She turned on the
tap
and water did actually come out. She rinsed her dirty face and
hands. Next to her bed she noticed a small electric heater. “I
can’t last more than a week in this hole.” She put her head in her
hands and began crying again.

“
I
mustn’
t panic,” Emely told herself. “I
have to think clearly. In a few days, I’ll be out of
here.”

She
lif
ted her aching body in order to find
something she could hit him with when he came next time.
He’s sure to have missed a hard
object in here.
She looked under the bed
and grabbed a leg to check its thickness.
No, I wouldn’t be able to do much with this.
Then she opened the closet that was, to her
surprise, empty. There was nothing hard and usable on the desk
either.
Perhaps I could grab
the heater and hurl it at him,
she
thought, but had to admit it was not the best idea. She checked the
door that separated the room from the basement corridor. First she
pushed lightly a few times, then more strongly, but the door did
not yield. She felt panic rising inside her again. Pushing her hair
out of her eyes, she shoved the door a few more times so that the
metal hinges creaked. She was increasingly becoming aware of the
fact that there was no way out. However hard she tried, she
couldn’t stand the tension that had been growing inside her from
the beginning. She threw herself on the bed, crying hysterically,
screaming and banging her arms and legs as an expression of her
fear and sadness and helplessness and rage. Not often in her life
had she been so utterly powerless; she always had everything under
control and that was what she was used to.