“What? What must I do?”
“Take off your shirt,” he asked calmly.
“No!” She recoiled, dropping the bottle. “No, I won’t do that!”
“It’s okay. I promise I won’t look. But I have to have you put this one on.”
He held out a different shirt. It was a small, blue school top and she could see immediately it was a couple sizes too small for her.
“But that one’s too small.”
“It’s okay. I promise.”He sounded so reassuring. His voice was soft, coaxing. “Please. Do this for me.”
He looked worried and upset, as if he had no choice but to ask, as if he had no other options.
She took the top with shaking hands.
She stared at him, thinking of her choices. There weren’t many and she didn’t like any of them.
Give in, and do what he wanted? Or refuse to do as he asked? Then he might hurt her, despite what he’d said.
She didn’t want to do it. She was embarrassed, and this was all getting weirder and weirder.
But then he turned his back, just like he’d promised her he would.
She decided she might as well do it. Then maybe he would let her go. Quickly she pulled her dirty, sweaty pink top over her head. She put on the one he handed her, which was clean and ironed and smelled of fabric softener.
Shawna’s hands were shaking so bad she struggled with the buttons. One flew off. And she heard the underarm seam give way with a ripping sound.
What was going on? Why did she have to wear this strange, too-small shirt?
“Are you done?” he asked.
“I’m done,” she said.
He turned to look at her again and saw her standing there with the shirt not only on, but buttoned up.
Could she get past him? Shawna eyed the door. Where did that lead?
“You look lovely,” he said. “Just lovely.”
He was being so sickeningly caring. She had no idea why he was doing this. What were his reasons for giving her all this fake sympathy and treating her like some kind of a doll, while making it very clear she was his prisoner?
She was trying to weigh her chances. Of getting out, and of what he’d do if he caught her.
The door was only a few feet away. Beyond, it was dark, and she had no idea where she was. Was it the middle of the night? Was he alone here, or were there other people around?
She wished she knew where she was. It was very quiet. She couldn’t hear any other sounds.
Perhaps it was a house? Had he brought her to his home? But he’d told her there was no hot water, so what kind of house didn’t have that? More likely it was a cabin, a hunting cabin, something similar.
She had no idea how long she’d been here, but she thought they’d driven for at least half an hour to get here. She’d been tied up in the back of his truck and blindfolded, but he’d gone over the bumpy roads gently. Carefully.
So what were her chances of getting out of here and finding help?
“You’re looking at the door,” he said, sounding worried again.
Shawna looked away.