Hipster Holocaust

 Hipster Holocaust Chapter Fourteen

Lydia woke up feeling groggy and sick to her stomach. She had no idea where she was. She felt her head, and when she brought her hand back, it had blood on it. She had a big bump and a terrible headache. Then she realized something even more terrifying. She was naked.

She was lying on the mattress on a dank, cold floor. When she moved her leg, she realized that she was attached to a chain that led to a ring on the wall. She didn’t have a blanket or a sheet, and she shivered a little in the cold air. She must be in a cellar, as there were no windows that she could see. Just a room that had concrete walls and a floor that was made of the same unforgiving material.

Lydia tugged on the chain to see if she could rip it off the wall. It was too solid, and all of her exertions were for naught. She decided to call out. “HEEELLLLPPPPP!!!!!” she screamed. She screamed over and over, hoping that someone would hear her. Someone other than whoever had put her here. It was every woman’s nightmare. It was specifically her nightmare. To be kidnapped and chained up to be the victim of someone cruel enough to throw her down a freezing cellar and leave her for dead. It was a cliché that you see in every TV show, and now it had happened to her.

After screaming until her throat was raw, Lydia stopped and tried to think for a moment. She carefully looked around the room. She had seen thousands of TV shows and movies where people had been held captive and had found a way to free themselves. She looked at the chain on her arm. It was very tight and was locked with a lock that she would not be able to pick if she had the skills to do that. The ring in the wall was even more secure, as the ring and the plate in the wall were all one piece. There was no escape. Nothing else was visible in the room. No food. No water. Not even a bucket if she had to pee. Why did she think that? Now she had to pee.

Lydia tried to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t panic or despair. She had to get through this. For herself. But more importantly for her son. He needed her. She resolved to do anything she had to do to get back to him. No humiliation would be too much. No suffering that could not be endured. She would get back to him. She knew she would.

She sat there for hour after hour. She had no concept of the time or how much of it had passed. It was cold, so she hugged herself and got into the fetal position to maintain as much warmth as she could. It wasn’t freezing, but there was definitely a chill in the air.

Lydia tried to listen to what was going on in her surroundings. In so many of those TV shows, the victim would hear the sound of a church bell or a train or something that would help them figure out a way out of their predicament. But there wasn’t a sound to be heard. Except for a low-level electrical humming, like an air conditioner or exhaust might make. She was obviously in a cellar. Most likely in Red Hook. She had no idea how long she had been out, but it didn’t seem that long. They probably didn’t move her too far. She was a Red Hook girl. She would find a way.

Strangely enough, she fell asleep. You would think a terrified kidnap victim would be worried and crying and looking for a way out. But if you were there long enough, you just fell asleep. Nothing was happening. Screaming hadn’t worked. Pulling and picking at the chain didn’t do squat. The cold and the humiliation of being naked hadn’t meant much after a while. Even the fact that the one lightbulb that was hanging down on a thin wire never went off didn’t stop her from falling asleep.

Lydia awoke with a start! She had heard something. Some noises. It sounded like someone was walking down steps. She knew she was in a cellar, and this only proved that she was right. The doorknob rattled as if someone was unlocking it. The door swung open, and she was almost afraid to see who was there.

Someone was standing in the doorway. It had to be a man. He wore jeans and a black hoodie. And a mask. It was one of those white masks from that stupid science fiction movie that was big a couple of years ago. Every kid had one, so they must be easy to get. She was suddenly embarrassed. She tried to cover herself by putting one hand over her sex and her arm across her chest. She didn’t have a big chest, so she was able to cover herself up. Still, the figure in the doorway stood and stared. Almost like he was memorizing her. Everything about this was creepy, but this was just scary. Terrifying.

Lydia did have one hopeful thought. Since he was hiding his identity, it was possible that he might eventually let her go. If he were going to just kill her, he wouldn’t care if she knew who he was. She couldn’t conceive of the notion that she knew who he was. Nobody she knew would be so twisted. Or at least she hoped that was the case. Somehow, it felt safer if he didn’t know who she was. She was afraid of obsession. She had to deal with a stalker once upon a time, and she knew how dangerous that could be. Even more so if he acted out and took her prisoner. That would be the ultimate stalker move. But then again, if he knew her, maybe he would have some compassion. She was so confused. She didn’t know what to hope for.

Lydia decided to try to remember as much as she could without alerting him to the fact, she was doing it. All of those Law-and-Order shows told you how to do it. How to fix a description in your mind. He was white. She thought. At least he moved like a white guy. She couldn’t explain why she knew it, but she did. Thin. Or at least not fat. Wore normal clothes. Not ripped or dyed like a hipster. Most likely, he was normal. Or as normal as a kidnapper could be. He was wearing gloves as well as a mask. No tattoos that she could see. Small feet. That wasn’t good. You know what they said about small feet.

She had to take a risk. She had to talk to him. He had stood there silent for what seemed like an hour but was actually about three minutes. Take a chance. Maybe she could reach him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded in a soft voice. “Please, can you let me go. I won’t say anything to anybody. I just want to get home to my son. I am a mother. You have a mother. Wouldn’t you want her to come home to you? Please don’t hurt me and let me go.” She started to cry silently. Maybe she could work on his sense of compassion if he had any.

The silent figure in the doorway just stood there. Then he backed out. He came back in with a water bottle and a wrapped-up sandwich. He threw them down on the mattress and put a white spackle bucket next to her. She flinched when he got closer and twitched involuntarily when he threw the sandwich at her. He stood for a moment and then came closer. She scrambled back as far as she could go. Lydia pressed her back against the wall as if she could push her way through to the other side. Her legs were extended in front of her. She would kick him if she had to. She would fight to the end. 

He bent down and stared at her. She was afraid to look into his eyes. He reached out…and touched her leg. The bottom of her leg. She jumped like he had cut it off. He had only touched her for a moment. Then he straightened up. Turned and walked out and banged the door shut. She heard the lock turn. She was alone again. Alone and even more afraid.

Fear is a funny thing. It can make you shit and piss yourself. It can make you scream and cry. It could make you ravenous. She grabbed the bottle of Poland Spring and took a long drink. She unwrapped the sandwich. Ham and cheese. No mustard, but it was the best sandwiches she had ever tasted. After the first burst of eating like an animal, she forced herself to slow down. She couldn’t panic eat. It would make her throw up, and what good would that be?

Lydia examined the sandwich wrapping. It had come from the gourmet deli on Court Street. So, she was local. Or was she? She had been there last night. Did he follow her from there? Maybe it meant nothing. Or maybe it was a clue. Not that it mattered. She had to get out of here if these clues were going to help someone catch this guy. But she still had to get out of here.

She munched on her sandwich and thought about her son. He was her guiding light. Her lodestone. She would get back to him.

No matter what.