I hear a soft snap just before the chemical smell hits my nose and I wake. Brian sits beside me. He places something in the bin and then he opens up his bag again. Jack hadn't found me. How could he? No one knew that the stairs to the attic came out of the manhole in the spare bedroom it was two years before Brian found it while trying to find out where the garage light switch was. Since then he has filled the attic up with old furniture and useless items that just needed to be stored somewhere. This bed sits near a window that has been boarded up. You used to be able to see the street out front and the street could see you. Now there is just wood. Brian wipes the blood off me with an alcohol swab. At some point while I slept, he changed the plastic beneath me and the blood is gone.
"How long have I been here?" I ask noticing that no light is coming through the spaces between the boards on the window. Brian briefly glances at his watch
"Five hours" he sighs as he finishes cleaning up the blood and tossing the used swab.
"It's ten o'clock?" I ask trying to get my spinning head to focus
"Close enough" he smiles and I look away from him
"How long do you intend to keep this up?" I ask the boarded window
"As long as it takes" he states as he opens the bag once again. It's such a cliché that this doctor has his own black bag of surgical instruments. Jack would laugh, he wouldn't if he saw me but still. I wish Jack were here. I was barely able to leave the bed today. I shouldn't have left. I should have waited until Brian left for work tomorrow. I should have stayed in the comfort of Jacks embrace. How long could we have stayed in that bed? With room service we could have stayed as long as we wanted. I needed clothing but I wouldn't mind wondering around the hotel room in just a nightgown. Jack wouldn't have minded.
"You're smiling?" Brian sounds genuinely hurt by this "what are you thinking about? O'Neill?" he asks hostile tone.
"Our wedding" I reply hoping he would buy it. Brian smiles. Nice save.
"Best thing I ever did was propose to you" he sighs
"Worst thing I ever did was accept" I laugh. He frowns at me
"Now Sam, you don't really mean that" he shakes his head disapprovingly
"Oh I think I do"
"I think the worst thing you ever did was go to that reunion" he mutters
"You're wrong about that, going there and speaking to Jack was the BEST thing" I assure him
"We both know the best thing you ever did was join the stargate program" he tries to calm himself
"Yeah if I hadn't, I never would have met Jack" I push his buttons
"Sam, you're only aggravating me," he warns
"I noticed" I smile
"I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU SAMANTHA!" he yells
"THEN DON'T!" I yell back. Maybe the neighbors can here us "stop this insanity Brian, let me go" I try. He pays no attention
"Do you remember our third anniversary?" he asks placing the bag on the bed
"Yeah, we spent a weekend in Paris" I reply watching him search through the bag. He is always meticulous; his bag would never be messy. Whatever he is searching for, isn't really there. This is an intimidation tactic.
"We were meant to spend an entire week there" he sighs "we had a fight and came back early"
"You asked me to quit my job and stay at home as your 'happy homemaker'" I remind him
"You couldn't separate yourself from your job, We barely ever saw each other" he tells me as he finally removes the item he has been searching for.
"Brian, you have known from day one that my work comes first for me. You were supposed to have understood that and accepted it. that's half the reason I married you" I point out frustrated
"I chose you as a challenge. I was supposed to help you put some distance between your personal life and work life. I almost completely gave up hope when you refused to settle down. I persisted though and I practiced with other women. I found this was the best method to controlling their joyless life styles. I never wanted to go this far but you've pushed me to this point Samantha, this is the only way" he explains. I'm a project! His personal challenge!
"Brian if I ever get the upper hand on you, I swear I'm going to castrate you" this hits a nerve. His face contorts in anger. He puts the bandage away and picks up a scalpel. He changes the blade. I squirm trying to pull away. He wraps an arm around my waist and jolts me to his side, sending a surge of pain through my wound. He holds me in place. I clench my teeth anticipating the pain. His steady hand slices the blade through me. Excruciating pain, but I'm grateful the blade is sharp. I wouldn't be able to handle a blunt knife tearing its way through my flesh. These wounds probably won't scar. I think that's the point. He would have the patience to keep me here as long as I needed for my wounds to heal. No scaring means no proof and he could claim I was insane. The only person in the whole world who knows for a fact that I'm sane is Jack and Brian could just claim his judgment was clouded by the fact that he had feelings for me. That's IF he doesn't kill me. Would he? He said he would never kill someone for fear of getting caught but he has created an alibi by now for sure. I wonder how many women he's done this to. Practice girls.
Brain starts stitching, aggravating the wound. I wonder what he meant by best method. Does this method work? Is this going to have some sort of psychological effect on me that will break me? I've endured torture before but how long would I be able to withstand this? It's only the second cut and I'm already thinking about giving in. Brian cleans the blood again, keeping everything sterile and preventing infection. He should be wearing gloves but then he wouldn't be able to touch.
"All done" he chimes as though this was just a normal procedure. He smiles at me and walks over to a table where a wine bottle is chilling. He picks up a corkscrew and opens the bottle. He pours only one glass and takes a mouthful. He slips the corkscrew into his chest pocket and walks the few steps back, grinning. He lowers the glass to my lips. I'm thirsty but I refuse to drink. He shrugs it off and places the glass beside the bed.
"Brian" I croak as a swallow back the pain along my ribs
"Yes Sam?" he asks leaning closer
"I'm… I'm…" I choke and he brings his ear next to my mouth to hear me "I'm going to kill you" I swear and then smack my head against his temple. He collapses on top of me. Have I killed him? He lays lifeless but is still breathing. Not dead but not conscious. I'm trapped beneath the unconscious body of my psychotic husband, while my hands and feet are bound and tied to the bed. Smart move Sam. I scream out for help, hoping that someone will hear me before my screams wake Brian. I scream for a while, helplessly. Brian's wristwatch tells me that I've been screaming out for help for twenty minutes. No one has attempted to respond. My husband will only be unconscious for a limited amount of time; I have to find a way out of this before that time runs out.
I try pulling my hands free from the cable ties but they cut into my wrists, same with my ankles. The plastic won't stretch and the clasps won't break. I look to my husband for help. I open his chest pocket with my chin and thank my lucky stars. The corkscrew sits peacefully in his pocket. I can just get it out with my teeth. I pull it out carefully and hold it steady as I prepare for a risky move. If I screw up, I won't get free. If I make this, I will get free easily. I hold the corkscrew between my teeth and flick my head back as I throw the corkscrew up to my tied right hand. By some miracle I catch it, only lightly piercing the skin on my fingertip. A miniscule amount of blood falls from my finger. I don't care. I take the sharp edge of the cork screw and pock holes in the cable tie. I poke holes until the cable tie snaps. The happiest feeling in the whole world is the feeling of that cable tie snapping. I reach over and break the tie on my other wrist. I ease Brian off of me and sit up right. A searing pain spreads across my abdomen. I break my ankles free and ease off of the bed. My feet touch the floor but don't feel it. They're numb. I try to walk but hit the floor instead. I lay motionless for a moment while the circulation gets back to my feet. And with the pins and needles comes feeling. I pick up a morphine shot and modally the levels before injecting it into my system. The pain along my chest subsides. I feel dizzy but I at least can walk without the pain. I reach the manhole. It's locked. 'GIVE ME A BREAK!' I yell and then slam my foot down on the manhole door. The gyprock breaks and I fall through, crash landing in my closet. The morphine cant numb this pain and I cry out as a surge of pain goes through me. I manage to pull myself up and start my search for the phone. I'm frozen by the faint sound of Brian moaning. He's awake. In a panic I close the closet doors and pull the curtain rod down. I thread the rod through the handles and pin it in position, locking the closet door shut. I take what strength I have and run for the kitchen with it. I grab the phone and frantically dial the only number that comes to mind. The rings are few before I hear Daniel's voice.
"Hello" he greets plainly
"Daniel, it's Sa…" the line goes dead. I try calling again but there's no dial tone.
"Brian you son of a bitch!" I curse. He's cut the power. My mobile's in my suitcase in my bedroom. I carefully return to the spare bedroom in the dark. I pull the Mobile out and try turning it on but the battery has been removed. Probably a precaution he took ages ago. I grab the suitcase and laptop off the bed. Fuck where's the file? A loud bang on the cupboard door. I take the suitcase and laptop out of the room. The spare bedroom door's been broken. My pulse is racing. I throw on a coat over the cut up, blood stained shirt as I run for the door. The doors locked. I leave the suitcase and laptop by the door as I run to the kitchen for the keys. I'm getting out of here now. I'm NOT coming back. I grab the keys off the hook and my finger lightly passes over the keys to the convertible. I smile as I pick up the keys. I found my transport out of here.
I turn to run back to the front door through the darkness but a light stops me. In an instant the room lights up with the brilliant luminescent blue glow of Zat fire.