This is the twenty-eighth part of a fiction serial, in 763 words.
Thomas quickly established a routine. He would wake Gillian in the morning, freeing her restraints while showing her the hunting knife. Then she was taken into the bathroom to use the toilet, while he ran a bath for her. When she had finished bathing, he would allow her to go downstairs with him and make herself some breakfast. When she had eaten, she was taken back upstairs and secured to the bed again.
On the third morning, she tried to engage him in conversation. “Can I have some clothes please? I feel horrible being naked all the time with you watching me”. His tone was kind, but firm. “The reason you are not allowed clothes is to stop you trying to run away. I haven’t hurt you, and don’t want to. I just want to look after you. So I don’t want you to try to run away, do I?”
A noise outside startled him, and he turned to look at the camera. A man was wheeling a large industrial bin across the front lawn, then leaving it beside the door against the wall. He pressed the buzzer, but when nobody answered immediately, he pushed some paperwork through the letterbox, and left. Gillian looked at the man. “That’s the Biffa Bin I ordered. I got in trouble for leaving bin bags outside, so I phoned up and paid for a private bin”. Thomas nodded.
“Okay, back up to bed for you for now. Anything else you haven’t told me about?” She shook her head.
Later that morning, the Amazon delivery arrived. Various large boxes containing the things he had ordered. Used to Gillian never opening the door, the driver left them all just short of the front step. Checking the CCTV until he could see nobody on the street, Thomas quickly unlocked the door and dragged them in. To make room for the exercise bike he was going to assemble, he dragged the small armchair out through the back door, and dumped it in the garden. Once he had exchanged Gillian’s old plates and utensils for the better items he had ordered, he went back out the front door and dropped all the old things into the large Biffa Bin.
No sooner had he unpacked the heavy box containing the exercise bike, then the door buzzer went again.
It was the supermarket delivery. Rather than have to free Gillian to talk to the young man, Thomas took a chance and spoke briefly into the intercom. “Just leave it outside please, I will get it later”. Once the delivery van was out of sight, he brought all the bags through. To make room in the fridge and freezer, he used the empty bags to clear out most of her food, and dumped them in the big bin on top of her crockery.
He was satisifed. Things were coming together nicely.
That evening, he cooked chicken with chorizo, accompanied by savoury rice. He ate his portion alone, washed down with a nice glass of Burgundy. Then he dished up a portion to carry upstairs, chopping the chicken into small pieces so she could use a spoon.
Gillian had been able to smell the food cooking, and she was very hungry, having not been given any lunch. When the man came uptairs, he was carrying a chair with a seat, not food. “This will be your toilet from now on, to save you having to get up and use the bathroom. I will empty it for you, and you will have one hand and leg free, so you can slide onto it. I am going to get your dinner now, okay?” Gillian nodded, wondering when she had ever been so hungry.
Mum had never used garlic, and they had never tasted chorizo. Rice was only ever for dessert, as a sweet rice pudding. But she lay on the bed spooning it in as if she had never seen food before. When she was finished, she actually thanked him. “That was delicious, is there any more please?”. Thomas shook his head as he removed the plate and spoon. “That was an adequate portion, I assure you. Just relax while I have a bath, and I will be back to see you soon”.
When he returned twenty minutes later, he was naked. Gillian closed her eyes. She had never seen a naked man, except in a film, or on television. And had never had a boyfriend.
But when he opened a condom and sat on the bed next to her, she instinctively knew what was about to happen.