Author's note: Sorry this took so long. I've had writer's block for the longest time but I'm back now. It feels good to be back. I hope you all like this and I'm kind of looking for someone to role play with (maybe Red Canyon RP or something) so if you'd interested, let me know.
Time did not matter when you were in prison because it only dragged on and if you glanced up at a clock then you would only want to die. What was the point in keeping track of time? To see when the day ends or to find the deadlines of work? Time was absolutely pointless in prison for it was endless like a black hole, sucking you into a mindless hell.
Cristina had no frame of time when she woke up on the cool, hard basement floor. All that she knew was that it must be evening because she listened carefully for the generator to kick on. This indicated that Mac was home. Her body tensed as he pressed her now dry, cracked lips together, seizing. Suddenly, she grew faint as her surrounds grew fuzzy in fear.
As Mac stomped down the wooden stairs, he grunted, mumbling about something and finally came into her view. The sleeves of his coveralls were rolled up to his elbows; his greasy dark brown hair was matted to his head; sweat ran down his face and the top half of his coveralls. He was disgusting, smelling of smoke and gasoline. Cristina wondered where he worked or at least where he went during the day. She couldn't imagine anywhere he'd be hired at but she guessed it was someplace like a mine or a cave. Was he even friendly with other people?
"I see you haven't moved an inch. That was wise of you." He eyed her with satisfaction. "And now, I guess you must be hungry." He was right; she was starving and thirsty. "I suppose you want me to cook up something for you, huh?"
She lifted her head up to glance up at him and met his unsympathetic stare. "Can I please have something to eat? And some water, too/"
"Greedy bitch…one or the other…"
"Please, Mac. Please…" Other than food and water, what else could she beg for, besides freedom?
She watched as he sighed, reaching for his hunting knife. "God, shut up and stop your crying! You wanna eat, don't you?" She wished she knew he was only going to cut the rope that bounder her but once he drew that blade out, that menacing blade, her eyes widened; her first instinct was to whimper at the thought of the damned object. Tucking his knife away, he grabbed her by the elbow, gripping her close to him hard enough to bruise the pale, delicate skin on her body. He dragged her up the stairs without protesting from Cristina which he was relieved by.
She felt like one of those homeowners who were looking to buy and Mac was her real estate agent who just finished showing her the basement where refreshments happened to be kept. Now, he was giving her a complete tour of the house and she was sure she'd never live in a shit hole like this. The house stunk worse than the basement but the only difference was that up here, it was dirtier with trash thrown around every room.
It smells like something died in here.
He sat her down at the rounded table in the kitchen as he went off to search for something edible for her to eat. In the fridge, he found, were leftover hamburgers that Walter gave him at the beginning of the week during his late night visit to the Luna Mesa. After taking a quick whiff of them, he judged they were still good so they good enough for her and deiced to heat one of the burgers up, fetching her a tall glass of water while he waited.
Since the hamburgers were made by Walter, there was no reason for her to be hesitant about eating but the condition the meat was now in ad her concerned. She may have not been starving (no, she didn't understand the true meaning of that word) but she was hungry enough to push the thoughts aside to wolf down the hamburger in under six minutes. The glass of water washed down the old taste; water, though it was warm, refreshed her but barely did enough for the dryness of her mouth. Asking for another glass probably would have been like being the match to ignite the fire. Pushing the hospitality was not a good idea.
Just as she finished her water, Mac set down a dog bowl on the floor and within seconds, a large, hungry dog came pawing in, its paws pounding against the wooden floor. The dog made no notice of the girl sitting at his owners table until he leaned down and began eating his dinner with Mac standing at to the side. Cristina couldn't help but panic, her heart beating a mile a minute. Her body refused to remain still as she tensed, wishing for the dog to finish eating and walk out of her sight.
"What no? You act like you've never seen a dog before." The greasy hick turned all of his attention back on her and apparently, she caught his pet's attention as well.
I don't like dogs. I hate them. There's a scar on my left calf where bite marks are but I guess they slipped your sight and I don't blame you, Mac. The scars are so faint now you'd have to be fucking superman to notice.
All words were caught in her throat once the dog turned around and stood on his hind legs, jumping up and placing its paws on her lap but her scream was terror was not caught.
"You're going to edge him on!" Mac yelled, pulling his now eager and curious pet off the frightened girl. "Beast won't bite you…at least not yet. Beast, leave her alone." Cristina couldn't comprehend the way he switched tones; he sounded surprisingly friendly to Beast but he spoke to her with such malevolence it made her ears bleed her skin crawl. One minute he would be this friendly guy and another minute he'd turn into an animal. A monster.
"And you…" A dirty finger was suddenly pointed at her, not nearly close enough to jab it in her chest. "You come with me." Giving her no time to respond, he lifted her up and out of her seat, proceeding on bringing her back down to the basement, despite her struggling. Being tied up became a routine for her and by then, her wrists burned from the roughness of the rope, leaving her the only option to stay still and stop struggling so much. Mac just laughed off her cries, telling her that if she never tried escaping then there would be no reason to restrain her. Whatever trust he must've had for her vanished but she doubted he ever carried any.
Her first night spent in the basement was unnerving and isolating. She tried pretending she was not bound in a greasy hick's basement with sweat pouring down her face from the heat of the desert and instead sleeping peacefully in her bed back in New Jersey but she had difficulty doing so. Her mind repeatedly returned to the events after arriving at Uncle Samuel's remote, dingy house. No matter what she dreamt of, the horror always returned as if fate meant for her to live it over as punishment. Wasn't this punishment enough?
For a while, she was kept busy by listening to Mac being up and about, the floor boards creaking above her before he decided to settle down and go to sleep. She wondered what he was doing up there, imaging him pacing back and forth or going from room to room with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He would stagger into the bathroom drunk, she visioned but she doubted he even bathed. The thought made her wrinkle her nose in disgust and agreed he was filthy. If he even did bathe on a good day, she would want to see for herself…No, she changed her mind; she was repulsed by the image of seeing him naked, his manhood, despite how gorgeous he had to be under all the grime. One term came to mind…'the beauty and the beast' which was out of the question.
I'd rather have my legs broken than consider him at least a bit attractive. I would rather starve to death and have my remains fed to the coyotes than have him on top of me…He can never know that but by the time he even has time to consider, I'll be so far gone it won't even matter! I'd love to see the look on his face when it happens, when he's in cuffs! Actually, it doesn't really matter if he's arrested or not…as long as I fucking leave Caineville, I'll be victorious. But first, I'll need a plan.
When it came to planning, she was a failure, her mind as blank as a piece of paper owned by a writer who suffers from writer's block but hope seemed to be within her grasp so he would do her hardest to try. Unlike projects she could never plan, this was her life on the line and to not do nothing but play the helpless victim was suicide. And Mac knew just how weak she was which was her only chance to prove him wrong.
There's no harm in trying but what happens if he catches you? I bet you didn't even think of that… She loathed the voice in her head because it was right; she could not fathom ALL the things he was fully capable of once she became unruly. He'll slice your fingers off, break your legs slowly with a hammer and you'll be screaming so much he'll have you begging to die but if he wanted you dead, he never would've went through all this trouble retrieving you. Whatever he said about Uncle Samuel selling you off, there has to be something about it. You need to find out to see what he did before it's too late.
Why would Uncle Samuel do such a cruel deed, luring his niece out to the middle of no where for a vile, animalistic man to capture her like she was some rare, exotic creature? Had he and Mac gotten into a disagreement or conflict over something? The only thing Cristina could think of was her uncle owing him money but since he couldn't afford to pay him back, Mac decided he had to give him something valuable in order for the debt to be erased. Mac must've saw pictures of her in the living room-school pictures of with a radiant smile and glowing face. He fell for her, saying how beautiful she was and Uncle Samuel responded with, "That's my niece Cristina." Mac rolled out his tongue from between those blackened teeth, licking his lips as he stared intensely at her photograph, complementing what it would be like to have her in his tight clutches. Turning to the older man, he requests her in exchange for the amount of cash he lent to her uncle. She imagined her uncle in a fit of rage, refusing and cursing at Mac, telling him he was fucking crazy to even think it. But Mac, standing strong with dark, menacing eyes, shook his head: "Either you give me your niece or I'll kill you. Don't fuck with me, Samuel…You know I'll come in here and slit your goddamn throat. It's not like your niece will get the short end of the stick while you live. I really like her, Samuel, and damn is she pretty so I think I'll keep her. For good. I'll give you a day to think about it, old man…"
What happened next?
Most likely, Uncle Samuel found Mac the next day and agreed with desperation; he tried to reassure himself that Cristina wasn't close to him when in fact, she was the daughter he never had. Mac snorted a laugh and ordered him to pick up the phone and call her, asking he to "spend the summer" with her "dear uncle"; Mac bore his eyes straight through his, like daggers. Without her heart skipping a beat, Cristina guessed her uncle suddenly changed his mind without Mac's knowing. He had a change of heart upon seeing his niece's flawless face, how she held innocence that would be destroyed at the hands of Mac himself. His heart gave out, realizing the pathetic decision he made to his own life. It was worse than murder, sentencing this innocent, poor girl to a new life full of hell and torture; no one would even help him so he devised a plan to protect her at all costs. This made sense to her, why he forbid her to go out in the desert alone because he tried to change things but none of it mattered. He was dead and Cristina found herself bound in the basement of the very man he originally sold her to. It seemed that no matter how the events turned out, destiny meant for her to rot in this basement.
I hope to god this isn't true. Mac is lying, I know it. He would say anything to make me suffer but it makes perfect sense. My uncle would never do that…yet I barely know him, not like I used to. When my aunt died, he went down hill, resorting to drinking and late nights which told to me from my mother who tried everything to help him, especially when he became tight with money. Could my uncle have become so desperate for money that he had to beg someone for cash? She shut her eyes, praying to both God and her uncle that her theory wasn't true because if it was, she would die without a fight.