The Helper

Assured that I would not see him again for a while, I laid my head back, closed my eyes, and tried to sleep. I wasn't sure what time of day it was, but I felt weary. Maybe it was lingering effects from the drug he gave me.

I awoke when he opened the door, and with it came mouth-watering aromas. He was carrying a tray with a cloche. I assumed it contained food. Setting it down on the vanity, he came and stood over me.

"Do you feel like eating?" He asked in a distant tone. "Yes, please." I added on the please as an afterthought, I'm not sure why.

"I'm going to put a collar on you. It won't hurt, but it will prevent escape." He must have seen my eyes enlarge. "It's the collar, or you stay chained to the bed and I feed and take care of your hygiene needs. I want to give you the dignity and freedom to care for yourself." He seemed genuine.

"Freedom?" I asked almost sarcastically. "Wrong choice of words given the situation, sorry, but my offer still stands." I could see he meant it. Either I wear a collar or be at his mercy for everything. I quickly decided my best hope was to gain his confidence. Maybe then I could look for a way to flee.

"Do I have your consent?" He asked again. "Yes." With my reply, he went to the vanity, opened a drawer, and withdrew a leather collar. It looked like the same material as the cuffs. I knew it would also be comfortable, well, as comfortable as a collar can be. From the corner of the room by the bed, he picked up the end of a very long, very thick chain that I hadn't noticed before. He attached the chain to the front of the collar and locked it with a paddle lock.

Approaching me, he had an inquiring look on his face. I nodded in unspoken agreement. His large hands cautiously lifted my head from the pillow. His hands, like his face, seemed a contradiction, power, and suppleness. Carefully, he fitted the collar on my neck and latched it with what sounded like the click of a paddle lock. Anyone watching might have thought I was receiving a necklace from a lover.

Pleased with the outcome, he then unlocked the cuffs restraining my wrists. I sat up as he backed away from the bed. I noticed he placed the key on a table in the hall. He then took a seat in a chair by the door. "Please eat. You must be ravenous." As he spoke, my stomach growled. I was dreadfully hungry, and despite the worry of poison, I lifted the cloche to be inundated with tantalizing smells. Laying in front of me was the most stunning plate of food I had ever seen. "It's salmon stuffed with creamed spinach glazed with garlic butter, sautéed rainbow chard with parmesan cheese and pine nuts, and a white truffle and shallot risotto." I sensed pride as he spoke.

"You made this? For me? Why?" He glanced down as he answered. "You need to eat. And I thought you might like something comforting." I pulled out the chair, sat down, and started eating. I had never consumed anything so exquisite. After several minutes of silence because of me eating, he asked, "Would you like something to drink?" I nodded my head yes because my mouth was full. He stood, stepped out the door, and came back carrying a wine flute and a bottle damp with moisture. He set them down on the vanity and poured some. "It's sparkling mineral water. With the drugs still in your system, you shouldn't have alcohol."

After pouring a glass, he sat back down. I sipped some while trying to formulate my next inquiry. "Are you a doctor?" I asked. A look of astonishment registered on his face. "What makes you ask that?" He questioned back. "Some words you use, your actions, how serious you seem to be about my physical wellbeing." He smiled. "Your perceptive, or I'm a simple read. Perhaps it's a combination of the two." He paused." Yes, I was a physician, but I'm not anymore." Was that a flash of sorrow? He's not as easy to read as he thinks.

I resumed eating, with plans on finishing every morsel on my plate. "What do you do now besides abduct and hold confine women?" I tried to keep the tone of the question light, almost a jest, but my hostility came through. He flinched and looked down at his feet as he answered. "I try to be a helper." "A helper? Is that what you think you're doing? Helping me?" I could feel fury rising. Abruptly, his head snapped up, and he looked me directly in the eyes. "Yes, that is precisely what I'm doing. I'm trying to help you fix something that you can't seem to do on your own. I'm trying to save you." The unexpected force in his tone of voice and facial expression stunned me. He wasn't irate, just resolute.

"I don't understand." My voice came out weaker than I wanted. He stood and walked toward me. He reached out and took hold of the nearly empty plate, lifting it from the table. "I know you don't, but I will help you too." As he turned to leave, he said, "Please feel free to use the tub and sink to clean up. You will find a toothbrush and toothpaste in a drawer. And there are a few options for attire in the wardrobe. I will bring down breakfast in the morning." I cried out swiftly. "Wait, what's your name?" He halted but didn't face me. "It's Ian." "I'm Stacy, by the way." I had always heard it's best to humanize yourself with your captor, but I wasn't sure about giving my real name, so I made one up. "No, it's not." He said with a deep sigh. Unadulterated dread coursed through my veins. Promptly rethinking things, I said, "You're right, it's not. My name is Fiona." "Yes, it is. Goodnight Fiona." With that, he left the room and locked it. Who was Ian? How did he know me? What did he think he could help me with?

I knew he might observe me with whatever camera he had installed in the room, but I didn't care. The contemplation of a hot bath seemed too good to be true. With a simple twist of a knob, water started filling the large tub. I couldn't remember the last time I had a bath.

Even when I was thin, I didn't fit in a regular bathtub. I developed too quickly as a child. I was 5' 10'' by the time I was 10 years old and was wearing a women's size 6 in clothing. I looked twice my age. It was a blessing and a curse, mostly a curse looking back now. The way I looked, a shapely woman, meant I lost the normal childhood most children have. I looked like an adult, so they expected me to act like one. I didn't fit in with children my age, but I also wasn't accepted by the adults. I quickly found out girls disliked me because of envy and boys and some men were interested in only one thing from me. It was an exceedingly lonely existence.

With a bit of riffling through the cabinet drawers, I discovered rose soap and a loofah. I undressed and slid into the steaming warm water, keeping the chain outside of the tub. After lathering the loofah with soap, I washed my body. I may be overweight, but I still had an hourglass figure with long limbs. I washed my hair the best I could with the soapy bath water while trying not to get the leather collar wet. People have always complimented me on my tresses, even asking where I got it highlighted, but it was my natural color. It was the one thing I felt was attractive about me. I soaked as in the tub until the water turned chilly.

Getting out, I drained the water. I dried hastily with a cream-colored terry cloth towel and then wrapped it around me. My stupid wide hips caused the towel to not close all the way, creating a slit high on my thigh. I brushed my teeth with incredibly minty toothpaste and then walked to the wardrobe. On opening it, I saw gorgeous designer garments, including matching sets of silk panties and brassieres. Noticing what Ian must have considered a nightgown, I picked it up. It was a muted grey or maybe a soft baby blue La Perla silk and lace slip dress. I had never heard of the brand, but it must be French and awfully expensive. I let the towel fall to the floor and stepped into the dress, pulling it up over my hips, past my breasts, and sliding the thin straps over my shoulders. Startlingly, it fit like a glove over my curves, stopping mid-thigh. I could feel it glide over my skin as I stooped to pick up the towel and drape it over the edge of the bathtub to dry.

I required a hairbrush, so I went to the vanity and sat down. After exploring the drawers, I found a brush with boar bristles and detangled my locks, which I then braided loosely. I gazed at myself in the mirror. I have aged and my eyes had a dullness I didn't remember before. Turning away in disgust from my reflection, I headed to bed.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmingly exhausted. I slid in between the sheets and laid my head on the pillow. The last thought I had before sleep embraced me was what would tomorrow bring.