Angel

It was one of those low one-story buildings made of corrugated tin, hugging an exit ramp by the interstate. Thousands of cars breezed past it every day and not one person actually noticed it. No windows, one door facing away from the road. A couple of rusting propane tanks had settled in a nest of weeds on one end of the building.

It was here that he took her, after the kidnapping. He had visited the building nearly every day for the past two months, preparing it for its guest, and by now he felt pretty darn comfortable that no one would ever think to look here for a missing girl. People do not look directly at what they cannot see; he had learned that the lonely way.

And so he planned with mounting excitement. Blankets for the winter. Fans for the summer. Books on tape. A refrigerator stocked with fruits and vegetables, for she would be kept healthy, his lovely guest. She would be happy here, and perhaps, over time, she would learn to love him as he loved her.

One day late in August, his plans fell into place. As he pulled off the frontage road and onto the dusty one-lane leading up to the building, he was sweating and more than a little pissed off. She had struggled more than he had expected. She had torn his shirt and landed a few well-placed kicks when he invited her into the back seat of his car. He was shocked at the rude response to his hospitality, but no matter...once she realized how thoughtful his accommodations were, she would come around.

He killed the engine and went to the trunk, ignoring the stream of swearing from the back seat. There were a few more bags of last minute items. Milk, fresh donuts, a couple more rolls of duct tape. One can never have too much duct tape.

Who the hell does this guy think he is? He looks so familiar. I know I've seen him, more than once. Stupid little shifty-eyed motherfucker. Before he gets a chance to touch me, I'm gonna kick his stupid balls right off. Stay focused. He's not smart enough to cover all his bases. Wait for the moment.

She seemed particularly reluctant to escape from the heat into the cool dim interior of the storage building. He couldn't understand this, although he remained patient as he escorted her into her new home. He'd planned to show her around, give her a tour of the place, but he was getting exhausted from the constant struggling. Maybe just let her rest for a bit, get used to being here, and then she'd be a little more eager to explore.

He brought her to the cage. When she caught sight of it, the swearing escalated into a surprisingly persistent scream. This had to stop. He was quite sure there was no one within hearing distance, but still, it was foolhardy to chance it. He had had the foresight to leave the cage door open. Now he forced her inside, and ducking his head, followed her in. Once, twice, three times he circled the roll of tape around her mouth and head until there was nothing but a blessed silence. Then scooping her into his arms like a child, he plopped her down onto the mound of pillows in the corner of the cage. He watched her breathing for a moment, then left the cage, careful to lock it behind him as he returned to the car to close the doors.

God, my wrists hurt. How is this happening? Little shit is stronger than he looks. How the HELL is this happening? I will be out of here before night. Nothing's going to happen. You don't give a person pillows if you're planning to kill them, right? Unless the pillows were for the last girl, the one he killed. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Stay calm. Breathe. Breathe. Wait.

He stood by the cage, staring thoughtfully down at her. She was finally still, panting, spent. Her wrists were tightly bound behind her, her ankles strapped together. She lay on her side, glaring up at him. Pity that such a beautiful woman should have such hostile eyes.

His detailed plans for their first night together might have to be put on hold, thanks to his guest's unexpected independent streak. He decided to remain flexible and patient with her. There was too much at stake here, he had planned for too long, and he had nothing, nothing at all, but time.

He stood silent, feet planted apart, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. At last he pulled the key from his pocket and removed the padlock from the cage door. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he entered the cage again. Her eyes narrowed and she tried to squirm away as he knelt at her side. He grabbed a handful of hair and twisted, until she had no choice but to look up at him.

For the first time since forcing her into the back seat, he spoke to her.

"I'm going to take the tape off now. Be quiet. Don't scream again, do you understand me?"

He could see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she weighed her options. He stared hard into her, waiting, until her eyelids lowered in defeat. Taking this quiet acceptance at face value, he pulled a small knife from his pocket and carefully sliced through the layers of tape along one side of her face. She held perfectly still, barely breathing, until the tape was abruptly peeled away from her mouth.

Gasping in a huge mouthful of air, she let out a howl of rage, startling him so that he stumbled back on his heels, dropping the knife. Quickly gathering himself, he grabbed her from behind, his hand clamped over her mouth, other arm around her neck in a firm headlock. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused, breathing slowly, before leaning down to speak softly near her ear.

"That was a huge mistake. You get one chance to do what I tell you to do. I wanted this to be nice for you, for your sake. Don't you understand that? Now, no water till morning."

Immediately he could feel a relaxing of her muscles, a despair that expressed itself in her very bones as she sagged against him. Now he relaxed his grip against her mouth, slowly taking his hand away. She was quiet, strangely quiet.

He laid her on the hard floor and left the cage for a moment, returning with a soft white cloth and the roll of tape. He anticipated repeated applications of tape for a few days, and did not, after all, want to remove her soft skin along with it. This was a quick solution, as he had no doubts that her surrender was short-lived. She would roar back to life soon, but for now she lay still, shell-shocked, as he wound a strip of the cloth around her head, covering her face from the nostrils down. A thorough wrapping of tape followed the cloth. He checked her wrists and ankles again, thought about moving her to the large pillow, and decided against it. Let her lie on the bare floor all night. Maybe her mood would improve.

Gathering the tape roll and his pocket knife from the floor, he locked the cage behind him. He methodically tidied up, putting away the groceries. He glanced at her once before leaving, but she stared into the distance and refused to meet his gaze.

He drove through the sultry evening, stopping at Burger King before turning toward home and a marathon of sci-fi movies. It was hard to lose himself in fantasy tonight though, with the awareness of his very own captive who was waiting for his return. Twice he had to pause the movie, jerking off into the greasy jumble of fast food napkins on the couch around him, the image of her limp body lying in the cage burning into his mind's eye.

Shit...so thirsty. Should've taken the water while I could. But it's probably laced. I might HAVE to take it anyway. Does he really think he's gonna leave me in here all night? It's so hot, if I die of heat and thirst in this damn cage I'm gonna kill him! And there'll be spiders in this building, I know it. Just calm down, c'mon, you can do this. Relax your muscles, relax your mind. He'll be back.

At first light his car was turning down the dusty lane again. He'd found himself too eager to come and see her, to see how she'd fared the night, to wait any longer. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the dusk inside. He went to the northern corner of the warehouse, the tiny office where the manager's desk had once sat, and flicked on a light. He saw that she had managed to wiggle her way over to the largest pillow, and was laying half on it, her hips and legs still on the cold metal floor of the cage. Judging by the tangled mass of her hair, she had thrashed around considerably during the night. She peered up at him silently from under the mess.

Her expression was unreadable, but her body language sang of defeat. He'd been fooled once before though, and that wasn't happening again. She was a beautiful and untrustworthy creature, and the gag and bonds were not coming off until she might be able to prove herself. She did, however, need to drink, eat, and move around a little, lest he have bigger problems on his hands.

He unlocked and entered the cage. With an unnecessary show of roughness, he looped his hands behind her elbows and pulled her to her feet. She moaned in pain as her cramped muscles adjusted, but he steeled himself to ignore her discomfort. He must not, could not, show any weakness at this point. She was completely dependent on him for all creature comforts, and the sooner she learned that, the better.

He stood behind her, steadying her, until she reoriented to being on her feet. Without a word he bent and removed the shackles from her ankles. Gripping one elbow, he led her out of the cage and to the small bathroom by the manager's office. This was the one place she could do no harm. The room was windowless, airless, a toilet and dirty sink, with a bare bulb above a smudged and ancient mirror. At the door he took off her wrist shackles and shoved her inside.

"You have five minutes. I don't recommend wasting them trying to get the tape off your mouth."

I'm too tired to fight him right now, damn it. First time I'm free and it's all I can do to move my arms and legs. Please let this not be my only chance. I can't do it. I'm so fucking tired, achy, hungry, thirsty. Fucking left me on the floor in the dark all night. Listening to the traffic for how many hours, and screaming inside my head for someone to know where I am. He's a satanic little fuck. But I'm so tired. So tired. Just do as he says for right now, and later I can kick his ass and get out of here.

He stood at the closed door and counted down. When he opened it, to his surprise she stood simply waiting, arms at her sides.

He cocked his head to one side and stared at her for a long moment. She seemed...different, somehow, this morning. Some of the fight had gone out of her eyes. He longed to believe that she had mellowed, that during the long night she had realized how carefully he had planned this special place for her to live, to be his own. But there was also the distinct possibility that she was a sneaky little bitch who had lain all night in a cage taking acting lessons from her anger. Either way, he wasn't quite ready to trust her yet.

And he needed to get to work.

He gestured "Come on" and she followed him out of the bathroom. He took her wrists, binding them behind her again. There was no resistance. He led her to the small card table, and pushed her down into one of the chairs. Retrieving the ankle restraints from the cage, he looped them around a table leg and snapped them onto her ankles.

Standing before her, he put one finger under her chin and pulled her face up.

"I'd like to let you have something to eat and drink now. It's your choice. You can be quiet, or you can go all day with no water. Understand?"

She nodded.

"And in case you think I'm not serious, remember how you just spent the night. One chance. No kidding."

She nodded again, harder than before. Her eyes pled for something.

Relenting, he pulled his knife out and cut the tape in one slice from the back of her neck. As the tape and cloth fell away, she gulped in deep clean breaths. He went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water, a cup of yogurt, and a peach. Sitting in the chair opposite, he fed her.

Hmm. Would you look at that? He's actually quite gentle for a homicidal maniac.

As he watched her gulp down an entire bottle of water, it occurred to him that he might need to leave work on his lunch break and come to the warehouse to allow her to use the bathroom. Like a new puppy, he thought, and was surprised when the idea sent a rush of blood to his cock.

When she had finished eating, he stood behind her chair and once again applied the makeshift gag, a cloth wrapped first over her face. She struggled against this, and he quietly said, "I'm sorry," as he held her head in position and wrapped it in tape. Then unfastening her ankle cuffs, he took her back to the cage.

It was 7:00 a.m., and the warehouse was still cool. As the day wore on, the cheap metal walls would heat unbearably. He had arranged several large fans around the cage, and now he stood her at the door and, pulling the knife from his pocket again, cut the jeans and shirt off her. Her eyes widened in fear as he pulled the clothing away from her, and he tried not to stare too much at her skin. He bent and tugged off her shoes and socks. Once down to bra and panties, she stood defiantly facing him, bracing herself for more violation. But he spun her around and pushed her into the cage, prodding along until she sat on the heap of pillows in one corner. Cuffing her ankles, checking to make sure her nostrils were clear of the homemade gag, he locked the cage door again.

So I'm alone again in here. At least there's daylight. I can handle this as long as I can see what else is in this godforsaken place. And at least I got to walk around a little, have some water and food. As much as I hate him looking at me, it's so much cooler like this. That breeze feels friggin' good. Once I figure out what that little weasel wants from me, it'll come to me how to get out of here. For now, all I want to do is curl up in these pillows and sleep. And the pillows do smell clean. God, this guy is weird.

So his routine began, with one deviation. He hadn't planned on dashing to the warehouse at lunchtime; it meant he had to pack a lunch and eat as he drove. The plan was to leave her during the day, and enjoy her at night. But he hadn't counted on the necessity of the gag, nor on binding her wrists and ankles once inside the cage. These measures required more supervision. Once she came to terms with the facts – no one could hear her, and the cage was inescapable – they would become unnecessary.

So he stopped in at lunchtime, following the same sequence as for breakfast. The bathroom for five minutes, then cuffed to the table while she ate a sandwich, then back into the cage. He was inclined to give her some exercise before immobilizing her again, but time did not allow it.

All afternoon he thought of her while his hands were absentmindedly occupied on the assembly line. She would be well rested after napping all day; she was being well fed; her strength would be back. Contrary to his expectations, she was not at all pleased with her living arrangements. This was inconceivable. He was unresponsive to his co-workers' chatter as he worked on new plans.

He began that night. The day was cooling as he brought bags of take-out into the warehouse. Setting them on the table, he walked to the cage and stood over her. She stared impassively up at him. He wondered idly if her expressions would be easier to read if he could see her entire face. Her eyes alone gave away nothing.

"How was your day, Angel?" he asked.

She blinked and stared.

Fine. He turned on his heel and returned to the food. Sitting alone at the table he ate slowly and thoughtfully, never taking his eyes off of her. His scrutiny seemed to make her uncomfortable; he noticed after the first few minutes that she stared down, at the walls, to the side...anything to avoid his gaze.

Once he finished eating, he came back to the cage, pulling her to her feet without a word. He unlocked her ankle cuffs and removed the gag, saving the wrist cuffs to be removed just outside the bathroom door, and applied again the moment she emerged. One of the new decrees was that she would never eat with him, only after he was done. Another was that conversation would be a rare gift, one that she would have to earn. This heartless approach was not part of the original plan, but neither was her lack of compliance.

There was a treadmill in the corner. Leading her to it, he pointed wordlessly at it. She stood staring at him numbly. "Get on, now!" he growled at her. She jumped slightly, but climbed on. He clicked her wrists shackles to the handles, turned the machine to a low setting, and walked away, giving her no choice but to keep up. He sat at the kitchen table, pulled a second beer from the bag, and tipped back in his chair to observe her.

She was wearing a bikini and bra in a soft gray jersey material. She was in good shape; he credited all those hours of jogging while he watched from a distance. Her hair was tangled from hours of lying on the pillows. He'd never washed a woman's hair before. Guess it was time to learn now. No way in hell was he ready to take the cuffs off yet. And her mouth, which had been so ripe with profanities just twenty-four hours ago, was strangely silent. She walked steadily on the machine, her head bent down, watching her feet, refusing to look at him.

What the hell? Did I not say this guy is weird? Who the fuck kidnaps a woman and makes her work out? Whatever! Could be worse. Just keep quiet and keep walking.

After silently watching her for fifteen minutes, he suddenly stood, downed the rest of his beer, and went to the treadmill. He switched it off, unclasped her cuffs, and pulled her by a wrist to the table, where he fed her a barely-warm cheeseburger. Again he watched while she guzzled an entire bottle of water. Little fucking camel, this one, he thought.

He had rigged a tub against the wall by the manager's office. There'd been a rickety old laundry-style sink there, which he had ripped out and replaced with a claw-foot tub he got for next to nothing at an estate sale. He had tried it out once, and except for the fact that the water would never pass for hot, it was a comfortable soak. He started filling the tub as his captive sat at the table watching.

Finally, she found her voice.

"I'm not taking a bath with you here watching, so unless that water's for you, save it, Mister," she said.

He turned from his perch on the side of the tub, raised an eyebrow at her, and continued filling.

A note of panic crept into her voice. "I mean this. I'm not. I will NOT take a bath in this dump."

He turned again. "Quiet. Please."

At that, her insolence sprang back into life, and she let loose with such a stream of defiance that he was forced to walk to the table, grab the duct tape, and apply a healthy strip directly over her mouth, with no cushioning layer of cloth to protect her skin. He pulled her mass of snarled hair into a ponytail and used it as a handle to drag her over to the tub. Holding her in place by her hair, he grabbed a wrist cuff and locked it onto the exposed plumbing next to the tub. Only when she was secured did her release her hair, reaching into his pocket for his knife.

Hooking a finger into the front of her bra, he yanked her toward him. His knife sliced downward through the material and the bra fell to the floor. The gray panties received the same treatment, and he kicked them out of the way. She whimpered behind the tape at the realization that she was now bared to him. He ordered her into the tub, and after a moment's hesitation, she complied.

He pulled down on her arm to force her to sit, and attached the cuff to the D ring he'd mounted on the lip of the tub. Leaving her sitting there to glare at him, he returned to the table to clear away the food containers, and found the perfect solution for the lack of a shower head...an empty mega-sized Burger King cup. He rinsed it out in the bathroom, then came back to the tub, and kneeling, scooped up a cupful of warm water and dumped it unceremoniously over her head.