HAPPY BiRTHdAY. (a story)

Happy Birthday.

It was the buzzing that finally woke her up. The buzzing of a fluorescent tube that pierced through into her deep sleep, a deep sleep that was full of disconcerting dreams, the buzzing pierced into her psyche to remind her that she didn’t have fluorescent tube lights in her bedroom. She hated the light that they omitted, making everything look plastic and artificial. The bright white light made her sick and reminded her of poorly funded hospitals. There was nothing but candle light in her room. She liked the way that candles could set a mood, every evening a candle would bring a different aspect to her surroundings. She loved to declare to her few friends that ”man made light is the enemy; I can only really have peace in the ever changing shadows.”

So what the hell was a fluorescent tube light doing buzzing constantly in her bedroom? She kept her eyes shut; the glare of the tube light was too much.
She breathed deeply, ready to start screaming at her parents for changing something in her room without asking her. They were constantly trying to limit her freedoms and her choices. She hated them; she could not wait until she was 18 and escape their drudgery, rules and regulations. This was not a pleasant way for a girl to wake up. With a buzzing fluorescent tube light in the room! What would they think of next? Timers for all the electrical goods in the house? She shuddered at the idea and prepared to yell abuse from her bed. She was seventeen years old, but only 2 weeks to go before her 18th, and then she would be off to pastures new. She would move in with her boyfriend and do what she liked, when she liked, how she liked. Now she was going to scream at the top of her lungs at her parents for ruining her bedroom.

Except…

She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t speak. Something was stopping her.
Her eyes flew open as she realised that she was gagged. Suddenly she was wide-awake. All her grogginess had gone. She was alert and felt slightly scared. It must be joke; she hoped it was a joke.

She looked around, and her eyes widened with absolute horror when she realised that she was no longer in the comfort of her own bedroom. She looked at the four grey walls, cracked and dried peeling paint hung from them. There were no windows, and strangely NO DOOR. She looked at what she was lying on, a dirty mattress; she was covered with a filthy duvet. She tried to throw it off herself, but that was when she realised that her hands were handcuffed, she tried to get up, and to her dismay, her feet were also cuffed. She wriggled from side to side, the duvet moved a little and she was then able to see that she was coiled in rope. She screamed a muffled scream and started to cry. She was now really frightened and scared. As her sobs diminished, her eyes were wet; her tears had dribbled down her cheeks, drifting towards the gag, which soaked up her tears. Her throat felt sore and she was suddenly very thirsty.

She didn’t understand. What the hell happened? Where was she? Who had done this? Was it a dream?

The last thing she remembered was drifting off to sleep, thinking of her boyfriend, she remembered that before, going home, leaving the party, before going to bed, he had asked her to move in with on her 18th birthday and she had said yes and now she had woken up in this strange room. Bound and gagged.

The buzzing was really piercing into her skull. Giving her a killer of a headache. She tried calling out but ‘help’ turned into ‘hhrrrppp’ against the gag. She told herself to stay calm; it was probably just somebody’s idea of a joke. Just a stupid joke. A silly joke. Which really wasn’t all that funny.

She tried to free her hands but they were cuffed tightly and all she did was cause the skin on her wrists to chafe. The sharp tingle of pain made her wince and the blood caused her to freak out and suddenly her face was contorted and another muffled scream tried to escape from her gagged mouth.
“Is anybody there?”
“Please, somebody, untie me.”
Not that the muffled words made any sense when they reached her ears. But they sounded hopeful in her mind.

She tried twisting this way and that, brought fresh pain to her wrists and to ankles and feet as well. She felt like her right foot was going to shear off at the ankle that she realised how thoroughly hopeless all her struggling was and how helpless she actually felt. She tried lifting her head and failed. She heaved short, sharp breaths and tried to remember how things had got this way. She had been at a party, a glorious crazy party, with her boyfriend and all their friends were there, and they drank, smoked, danced and fooled around. That was when he asked her to move in. That was when she had said yes, that was when they fucked like rabbits, drank more vodka and she went home, drunk and happy. Her parents were not pleased about the state she was in, they sent her to bed and told her that she was grounded. Fuck them she thought, then she wondered if her parents had done this to her, as punishment for coming in at 3am in the morning stinking of alcohol and tobacco. She started to giggle; her parents were creepier than she had thought.

She thought of her boyfriend, she thought of the party, it was a great party. It was her boyfriend’s way of allowing her to have a pre-birthday party after her mother said she could invite a few friends over on the weekend instead of having a big blow-out for her 18th. Her Parents could be so mean and thoughtless, they wanted to give her money to put in a bank account, not spend it on her friends so she could have a good time. Well at least her boyfriend knew what she really wanted. He knew it and he organised one hell of a party. She smiled at remembering how she thanked him. She knew what he liked too. Fuck her parents! She would be moving out soon.

What did they know?

She tried to remember if she had always hated them, or had she at one time admired them, respected them, and loved them? She couldn’t remember anything, except that they tried to rule her life, tell her what to do and what to wear. She hated them, and once she moved out she would never see them again. She laughed a muffled laugh and thought of the letter that she had written to them, ready for when she was 18, moved out and gone. She hoped that if her parents hadn’t done this thing to her, they would realise that she was missing and call for help, but if they found that letter, they might not guess what had happened to her, they’ll think she had already left home, they’ll be hurt by what she had written, they’ll be shocked that she was moving in with her boyfriend, leaving the shitty small town she was forced to live in, they would be upset that she was moving to London and they would never see or hear from her again.
She was in her pyjamas and in bed, thirteen weeks ago, when she wrote that letter. And even though she had wanted to stay awake to add some more touches, flourishes and more of her hatred for them, she remembered feeling all alone at midnight, folded the letter, put it into an envelope and placed in her drawer in the side table. Clearly written on the front of the envelope.

TO THE BITCH AND THE BASTARD.

Suddenly.

She felt a tug on her ropes and her spine went stiff. A voice echoed through the miserable grey room, “Good, you are awake.” She opened her eyes and saw a man standing over her, behind him a hidden door had appeared, slightly ajar. He wore a ski mask, she could see his eyes and mouth and felt repulsed.
Her eyes widened with horror her as he pulled legs apart. Then she closed her eyes tight, and prayed. Prayed to a god she never believed in, prayed for her parents to come and save her. Prayed for her boyfriend to protect her. Then she felt the stranger’s hands touch her legs, stroking them.

Oh my God! This can’t be happening. It’s not a fucking dream!
She tried to force her knees together but the pain at her hips was so great that she felt like she was going to be ripped in two. When she could resist no more she settled for crying instead.
“Don’t cry darling, everything will be alright!”
Her eyes flew open. She recognised the voice. But it can’t be. Not him.

The stranger stood over her, his eyes wide, his mouth twisting into a hideous and evil grin that made her feel terrified to the core. He removed his mask and looked upon her. Her boyfriend stood there. She tried to hide her fear from him.
She looked around. She knew it was him but she didn’t want to believe it.
He nodded, “oh, surprised and scared. I like it!”
She stared at him as he leant towards her and removed the gag, through a parched throat, she asked, “why?”
He sighed, sat by her bedside and caressed her stomach. She then realised that she was naked had blushed.
“It was a long time ago so you probably don’t remember…? I asked what you’d like to do for your eighteenth birthday. You were oddly distracted. We were shopping and you were trying to buy sexy underwear for our special night, remember? You wanted to be all slutty for me. You wanted to show me that you were more than just a spoiled brat, that you could be the kind of girl that I wanted in my life. That you could be a sexy girl, an interesting girl. So you were thinking about whether you were going to keep your knees together or open up and let me see the delights of your cunt and I don’t think you were properly thinking of what you said to me.”
The soon to be birthday girl was still struggling with a mixed bunch of emotions so she shook her head and continued to stare at her boyfriend through teary eyes. She was surprised that he knew her thoughts, was she so predictable?
He continued, “Yes, you said you wanted to be scared out of your wits so that you could appreciate how great it is to be alive.”
He spread his arms wide, and smiled at her “Happy birthday bitch!”
He then placed the gag back into her mouth. Looked at her with something she had never seen before in his eyes, a look of hatred, a look of disgust. He then leant towards her right ear and whispered.
“Be happy my darling, we are finally living together, and we shall never be apart.”

The End.