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Three months, give or take a week or so. That’s how long his basement had been occupied. Bo’s thoughts often drifted to the cute little thing he had down there during long grueling workdays. A pretty girl, maybe in her late teens or early twenties (he hadn’t bothered asking), absolutely scared shitless of him. Although she’d gotten a little desensitized over the last weeks. Didn’t scream and cry as much as in the early days. Bo hadn’t minded the pathetic wailing, it even got him a little hard, but it was nice to have a soft, pliable body to take his frustrations out on without much complaint. He was thinking of her, again, as he sat in his living room rummaging through the latest unfortunate visitors’ belongings. Lester say next to him, going through a bag of his own. Lester wasn’t the biggest fan of the whole “brutal slaughtering of innocents” that his older brothers did, but he sure didn’t mind luring in said innocents or going through their cars and suitcases for valuables.
This far they hadn’t found much of interest. Lester had found a pair of lace panties and made a crude comment, making Bo laugh. They found a little bit of cash, passports that would soon end up burnt or buried in the woods. Bo was getting bored, which was why his mind drifted to the room under the gas station. Lester coughed, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“You think this is somethin’ for your little lady?”
Lester was holding a pack of menstrual pads, grinning. Bo took it out if his hand, examining it. There was some information about sizes and “flows” on the packaging which told Bo absolutely nothing. He had never gotten much information about the whole “period thing” and honestly did not care to find out. He chuckled and set it aside, as Lester was probably right about his little captive needing it. They kept on looking through the bags, and the afternoon continued to be uneventful.
But something nagged at Bo. It was such a subtle feeling, easily brushed off but still there. It took him several hours to even recognize it.
It was nearing evening and he was making his daily visit to the station basement. He’d brought the regular, a poorly microwaved TV dinner and a half drunk bottle of water. He went down the stairs, unlocked the door and went in. The girl was curled up on the ratty old mattress on the floor, eyes fixed on him from the moment he entered. She was filthy, covered in month-old sweat and grime and blood, hair tangled and dirty, only wearing stained panties. She’d had to tie together the torn ends on the left side when he’d ripped them off of her. The sight of her miserable form never failed to excite him.
“Evening” he greeted her as he sat down her dinner. She only stared in response, as per usual. He unlocked the iron cuff around her ankle and led her to the upstairs bathroom. She did her business and he immediately brought her back down. One time she’d attempted to run. He made sure she never dared trying again.
She ate, quickly and wordlessly. She was ravenous, as usual, since he’d forgotten to feed her this morning. He watched her hunched form. Despite the irregular, completely nutritionless meals she was fed she still had a bit of tummy poking out. Her arms and legs were thinning, though. He might have to get a new cuff if she continued losing weight.
After she finished her meal he got straight to business. He crawled closer and she immediately knew what to do, laying back down on the mattress. Her eyes were vacant, staring into nothingness, pretending to be anywhere else but this filthy dungeon of a basement. He pulled off her panties, running a finger through her folds. Dry, as expected. That’s why he always brought lube.
The ten minutes they shared were quiet, besides his grunting, the wet noises of the lube, and quiet, hoarse whimpers from her. He was tired today and didn’t hurt her too badly, and didn’t play up anything to scare her. He took her, and there was nothing else to it. He finished inside and wiped himself off on her panties. She lay curled up, crying soundlessly. An average day for the two of them.
Bo sat back, smoking a cigarette. That’s when the thought came back. In all honesty he wasn’t sure how often one was supposed to get their period, but he had some vague memories of it being a monthly thing. Or bimonthly? He looked at the girl, and considered asking her. No, he wasn’t up for conversation tonight. Either way, when he thought hard about it, he couldn’t recall the girl ever bleeding for several days. Sure, she’d bled some the first time he had her, but that was most likely his own fault for being too rough. He was relatively sure you were supposed to bleed for at least a couple days, maybe even a week? If that’d happened he would’ve noticed. He was sure of it.
Bo looked at the girl, his girl. The vacant eyes. Her thinness. The ever so slight bulging of her stomach. A thought had formed in the back of his head, one he didn’t like. One that scared him, although he’d never admit it. He got up abruptly, grabbing the tray and the water bottle, and left quickly. He locked the door tight and headed home.
It took him several days to off mulling over the facts, and consulting the old medical books from his father’s practice they hadn’t had the heart to get rid off, before he finally drove out to a pharmacy in the nearest town. He didn’t meet the pharmacist’s eyes when he grabbed the test and paid for it. He drove back home, feeling all sorts of feelings, all of them bad and unpleasant.
It took him another week to work up the courage to do such an fast, easy thing. Instead of bringing his captive upstairs to piss, he brought her a bucket one morning, mumbling something about the toilet being out of service. She obeyed dutifully, did her business in the bucket and their routine continued as usual. His mind wasn’t in the room as he used her. It was loudly and aggressively chastising him for being paranoid, for seeing signs that weren’t there. Sure she was a little rounder than she ought to be. Sure she hadn’t gotten her period when she ought to. Sure he’d come downstairs to the stink of vomit and frantic apologies more than a few times since he began keeping her here. But this could mean nothing.
It wasn’t until he sat up in the garage, holding the urine covered stick, staring at the two blue lines. It was the last stick in the package, the last one that showed the exact same thing as all the others. Bo exhaled, then inhaled. Deep breaths, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t know what else to do. His first thought was killing her, of course. It would be easy, the knife or the gun or his bare hands around her neck. It would probably make the rest of his life easier.
But as much as the prospect of children mortified him, he couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge in his heart. His mama had always said he’d die alone. Alone, with no wife and no heirs and no one who cared to remember him. As much as Trudy had hated most of her children, she’d always painted up this beautiful picture of building and having a family. Always reminding him that he would never, ever have that. And here he was, decades later, with that little, positive test in his trembling hands. He had a choice he would make, one way or another. Bo sighed, got up and headed for his truck. God, he needed a beer.
~
The girl awoke with a start, hearing the jingle of keys in the lock of the door. It was dark, probably late evening. He’d already been here in the morning, and now he was late for dinner. Something felt off. The girl knew it. She didn’t know how long she’d been down here, a few weeks maybe? But she’d been so tired, and sick, she’d fallen asleep in the afternoon. Now he came back.
Bo emerged from the door, in a strange manner. Usually he was confident, focused, went straight to her without a second thought. Now he lingered, was almost hesitant to approach her. What was up with him?
Finally he came over, she saw he didn’t have dinner with him and felt disappointed. She was so, so hungry. He unlocked her cuff and helped her to her feet, leading her up the stairs. She began turning to head to the bathroom but he pulled her along, past the bathroom door, out through the front door. She hadn’t been outside in so long, she stumbled and Bo held her tight. This was completely out of the ordinary. The girl felt terror grip her, was this the moment he’d finally kill her? She let out a choked sob.
“What’s happening? Where are we going?” she cried, voice horse and shaky. He pulled her along to his truck, opening the door and helping her inside, even fasting her seatbelt for her.
He got in next to her, quiet as he’d never been, and began driving. He drove farther into town as she started crying harder.
“Please, where are you taking me? What did I do?”
Finally he answered.
“We’re going home”
“What?”
He sighed. He sounded almost scared when he spoke.
“We’re going home, sweetheart”
He pulled up to a house, the lights were on and someone watched them from the window.
“Welcome home, honey”