I give him a quick hug. “We will be back tomorrow, ok,” I say hopefully.
Joshua nods.
“You will see us, won’t you?” Cameron asks.
“Yes.” Joshua nods.
“Promise me,” Cameron pleads.
“Yes. Fuck,” Joshua whispers and I smile. There he is. He’s with us again. “You’re a pair of nagging bitches,” he snaps
“We are missing your cranky ass.” I smile hopefully.
He drops his head and smirks. “You’re so gay, Murph,” he mutters and I smile broadly.
“That’s why you love me,” I reply.
Joshua’s eyes flick to Nicholas as he raises his chin defiantly. “This is your first and final warning. You hurt him again and I hurt you.” My eyes widen. Oh my god, he did not just say that.
Nicholas clenches his jaw and his eyes hold Joshua’s.
“They are just friends, Stan,” Cameron mutters, embarrassed.
Joshua nods, seemingly appeased by the answer.
“I need to talk to Joshua alone please,” Nicholas reminds us.
“Yes, of course.” We both stand and leave the room and for the first time in nine days I feel relief.
Natasha
Days have turned into weeks, sixteen days that I have counted, although I don’t know how long I was unconscious for in the beginning. I’m in hell, I have literally been beaten into submission and have no doubt that he is the one who will kill me when given the word. I have never been so petrified of anyone in my life and as if my subconscious knows that this was my fear all along I haven’t been having nightmares at all. I don’t need to dream about terror any more. I’m living it. The six televisions are haunting me, four of news and the excessive reporting on this story, one of our bedroom playing
reruns of our sex and love-making and one that flicks through to different rooms in the house. I’ve even watched Bridget and Ben have sex. He’s smoking hot just quietly… not that I was looking. Somebody wants me to know that they are watching us. It’s a powerplay. They have control of my house and they have me hostage. Someone wants me to know that they are controlling this situation. They needn’t bother. I am fucking well aware of that. I can’t get out of here; I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’m trying to find a tool to cut through the plaster in the ceiling of the bathroom. I thought if I could get into the roof I could escape but I can’t even punch through it. I don’t know what’s behind it but it seems unbreakable. I sit and stare out of the window as my mind searches for an escape plan. How do I get out of here? I look at the ceiling and watch the air conditioning vents above. Why are they so small? This never happens to Bruce Willis—he can always fit into air conditioning vents. I’m trying to think of all the movies I have watched where people are taken hostage and break free to try and get an idea of what to do, but I’ve got nothing. Bruce Willis and huge air conditioning vents are the only ones I can remember. One good thing is that I’m starting to work out when Carl and the other boy are working. I hear a car pull up every twelve hours. Carl’s car is noisy and has a rattle thing going on and the other car must be a new one, with hardly a sound at all. And I also have found that whatever I ask for is delivered so I am trying to think of foods that have packaging which may come in handy in an escape. If only I could order a gun pizza.
What am I going to do?
My mind goes to my mum and Bridget. Poor Mum. She’s lost so much and now she thinks she’s lost me too. If only I could get a message out to them… think Natasha, think. What if I seduce Carl and break down his defences? Would he let me go? What about the kid? Maybe I could seduce him, but then. I close my eyes in pain, I couldn’t do it. I would rather kill them than sleep with them. My eyes go to the paddocks out the window as I concentrate.
Now there’s an idea. Kill them, but how do you kill someone?
Neck, eyes, what body part do you go for if you have no weapon? How could I kill them and would I be able to live with myself if I did? The thing is, if it backfires and I don’t succeed I know for certain that they will kill me. What a mess. A weapon, I need to make a weapon. If I wasn’t such an idiot I wouldn’t have thrown that planter pot at the window and missed. I could have thrown it at their head, but now they’ve taken it. Why the hell did I do that? What if I pretend to kill myself by hanging using the bedsheet and then when they think I am dead I jump up and run? Hmm, no. They will probably stab me a few times to make sure I’m dead and then have sex with my corpse. I stand and walk to the bathroom to check the cupboard for the ten thousandth time since I have been here and I notice something different on the television of our house. I run to the basket to get the remote and turn up the volume. It’s Joshua. Oh god, my hand goes to my mouth and tears instantly fill my eyes, I haven’t seen him on camera at all. He looks terrible. They have arrived back at the house. He is looking around the house in a panic and then he runs up the stairs two at a time. The other television from our bedroom flicks onto present time and I see him sit on the bed and pick up my diary and glasses. He reads it as he wipes his eyes. “Oh baby, I’m ok, I’m ok.” I jump up and down on the spot. “Joshua, I’m here, I’m alive.” But he can’t hear me. I drop to the bed as I watch my love curl up into a foetal positon and lie on the bed clutching my glasses and diary as his tears run onto his pillow.
Goosebumps cover my skin and fury starts to drip from my every pore. Oh I’m going to fucking kill someone alright. If they think for one minute they have the last word they can think again. I’m not taking this shit. You are going to regret the day you messed with me, assholes. And as my love’s heart breaks on the screen I turn and walk into the bathroom with a cool renewed purpose. I need a fucking weapon and I need to find one now. I’m getting the hell out of here.
It’s day 26 and I go over the plan I have in my head for the hundredth time today. I have unscrewed the shower screen and have it placed it strategically in the bathroom, waiting for my attack. For the last seven days I have woken up every morning determined that today is the day, today I’m going to escape, but then I’m so scared I’m going to mess it up and end up dead and my love will really lose me that I chicken out. I have to be positive my plan will work before I do it or else it’s just a death wish. I just wish I knew if the coverage of me in here is going back to base somewhere else or if this is the only outlet, because if this is the only outlet I have a much bigger chance of getting away before anyone knows I’m gone. I know what shift Carl is on and I have to do it when the young boy is here, as I have a much greater chance of surviving against him. He won’t even talk to me because he knows I’m trying to break down his defences. I have strategically started to call myself Cinderella and asked the two men to call me Joshua’s nickname Cinderella on the offchance that the person doing this is someone we know and that they may refer me as Cinderella to Adrian. He knows that he and I are the only two people who know about that. It’s a long shot, but I’m trying anything.
I got my period this morning, and I cried. Both tears of sadness and tears of relief. I had been holding off my escape, half thinking that I may have been pregnant and I didn’t want to endanger Joshua’s and my child, but I needn’t have worried. I’m not pregnant and that makes me just plain sad. I just pray I survive this and we get the chance to try again. More and more I know that as time goes on my chances of getting out of here alive are diminishing. I will wait now until my period finishes because if it works and I do get away, who knows how long I will be in the forest. My eyes flick down to my feet. I don’t even have shoes. How do you escape through the forest without shoes?
Adrian
“Are you ready?” Nicholas asks me.
I nod and swallow my fear. We are in the foyer of our building and I am doing the first press release since this nightmare began. With the court case coming up I need to make a statement on behalf of Joshua. There must be at least fifty reporters and cameramen here. Bridget sits in the front row with Abbie and Cameron. Ben and the security line the walls, and I’m as nervous as all hell.
I walk to the small podium at the centre of the room and with shaking hands retrieve my notes that Nicholas has written for me.
Hmm, hmm. I clear my throat.