Join the Dots

One - Chloe

I had been sitting outside the bar for quite a while and the attention I was getting was not what I had hoped for - or indeed wanted. She was about my age -- mid-twenties, with a dark, smouldering look that bordered on Goth but stayed - for me at least - just the right side of it. Every time I glanced in her direction, her slightly hooded eyes burned into mine and I felt distinctly uncomfortable under her unrelenting gaze. My friend Claire had told me the place was great for singles looking for a night of fun, but I was hoping for some hunky young man for an evening of blissful, meaningless bonking, not this dark-haired, tattooed femme-fatale.

I had certainly struck lucky the night before with a very hot Spanish guy called Rui and my little hotel bedroom had rocked all night as we had done all we could to strengthen Anglo-Spanish accord. I was beginning to wish I had taken his number for a repeat performance.

It was my third night in London and my venue of choice was a nice riverside bar with the Thames rolling lazily by in the early evening sun. It was certainly whetting my appetite for what was to come later in the year. I was starting a new job in London at the end of the summer. As my notice period was three months, they had only made me work one before putting me on gardening leave. That was just mighty fine by me; getting paid for nothing with two summer months to do as I pleased. I had come down to the capital for a couple of weeks to get the lie of the land and have a bit of fun at the same time.

As I cast my gaze about for a likely candidate, I was constantly aware of the other woman's gaze upon me and my discomfort was growing by the minute. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I put that down to the fact that there were a lot of buxom, dark haired, tattooed women doing things on some of the internet pages I skimmed past in search of something that appealed more to my tastes.

I was just about to leave and try somewhere else when I noticed her lighting a cigarette. She blew out smoke and with a small smile on her pursed lips, inclined her head to the empty seat opposite her. I swallowed hard and tried to smile back. I shook my head and mouthed, "No thanks." Feeling myself going red, I averted my gaze. A minute later I was aware of a tall figure standing next to me. She put a hand on my bare shoulder and I shuddered at her touch.

"If the mountain won't come to Mohammed..."

Her voice was a husky, confident purr. Before I could react, she sat down opposite me and took a long pull on her cigarette. It was black and from the pungent smell, I took it to be French. She pushed the packet towards me and I shook my head once more.

I decided to get rid of her quickly. "Look, I'm not really looking for company, thanks. At least... well I am, but I'm sure you catch my drift. So, if you don't mind..."

Her reaction puzzled me. She closed her eyes for a moment as if she was assessing something. Finally, she spoke and the authoritative tone in her voice had gone. "Ok, worth a punt, pretty girl like you. At least let me buy you a drink."

I was about to refuse when she drained her glass and pointed to mine. "Same again?" Once more I didn't have time to respond before she picked up my almost empty glass and went inside the bar. I wanted to cut and run, but she had left her bag on her seat and I didn't want it to get stolen.

I stayed put. For a long time afterwards, I bitterly regretted that decision.

When she returned, we small-talked uncomfortably for a few minutes and that feeling of familiarity would not go away. Under her probing, I reluctantly told her about my little jaunt and she said she was waiting to see what, as she put it, 'floated by along the river'. I assured her it was not me and got a barked little laugh in return.

It was when I excused myself to go to the ladies that it all began to go wrong. I can recall getting back to my seat and taking a drink and that is about it. I was planning to buy her one back and leave for pastures new when my head began to spin. I vaguely remember concerned voices around me, then being helped from a taxi and a rough Cockney voice asking if I'd be ok. I heard a husky, amused voice as I went under once more. "We keep telling her, but she always overdoes it, silly girl! Thanks for the help, I've got it from here. Keep the change!"

When I woke up, I was in a different world.

My head was reeling and I felt sick. It was like all my worst hangovers rolled into one. As I blinked back into consciousness, I took in a huge, vaulted open-plan loft-type room with floor-to-ceiling windows. We were obviously a few floors up and I could see lights along the Thames as it wound into the distance beneath us. The bed I was lying on seemed to be in the middle of the room and, notwithstanding my feeling of nausea, something seemed very off with the situation.

It took me a few moments to compose myself and take in my surroundings but nothing seemed to make sense. I was sitting up with my arms raised above my head and when I tried to move, a cold chill went through me as I realised that I was not going anywhere. I looked up and saw I was wearing thick leather bands around my wrists and a short chain led from each to the headboard of the bed. There was a collar around my neck and I was otherwise naked. I was about to scream when I heard a soft voice from behind me.

"If you make so much as a sound, I will ball-gag you and whip your arse until you cannot sit down for a week. Do l make myself clear?"

In genuine fear, I nodded, the collar feeling thick and heavy around my neck. I heard a click of heels as she walked around the bed and stood in front of me. If my blood had run cold before, it now turned to ice as she was revealed to me. She was in thigh-length, lace up latex boots and a black latex cat suit. Her thick, dark hair was now up in a chignon and her eyes were highlighted with smoky make-up. There was a wicked looking braided switch in one red-gloved hand and the other held a cigarette. Smiling, she took a long pull on it and leaned towards me. She blew a thin stream of smoke in my face and I turned away, grimacing and coughing.

She laughed at my reaction. "So, Chloe. You don't smoke anymore then, eh?"

Despite my fear and discomfort, I did a double take. I was pretty sure I had never told her my name back at the bar. Had the bitch not only stripped me, but searched my bag as well? I tried to be brave. "Who the fuck are you? If you touched me while I was out, I'll fucking-"

I never got any further as a red latex-clad hand closed over my mouth. "I told you not to say a fucking word, didn't I?" She cracked the switch down onto the headboard above me and I shied away mewling as she played it across my naked thighs, a malign grin on her face. The feel of it was gentle, but I got the impression that if I did not do as she told me, things could get not-so-gentle very quickly.

She smiled down at me and sat, stroking my face. "No Chloe, I didn't do anything when you were out. Where would the fun be in that? I had to put your pretty little dress in the wash there was so much puke on it, so I took the liberty of removing the rest as well." She laughed. "Sorry about that, but I got my dosage a little wrong in all my excitement!" She grinned again. "Besides, I want you fully awake for what is about to happen to you. You said you were in town for another ten days, yes? That should be long enough!"

I wanted to scream, but as she took her hand from my mouth, it came out in a choked whisper. "Long enough for what?"

She stroked me again, the feel of the latex against my cheek revolting me. "Long enough to break you, Chloe. To torment and torture you." I almost fainted as her face came close to mine and she hissed in my ear. "Fucking revenge, Chloe Harper. Absolute fucking revenge. A dish best served cold, as they say. It's gonna get cold, Chloe -- very cold. It's gonna get hot. Maybe at the same time, who knows? Fucking revenge with the accent very much on 'fucking'." She became almost business-like. "Now - I am going to tell you a little story and trust you not to yell. It will do no good anyway as this place is soundproofed."

She paused and waved a red-gloved hand around herself. "It has to be, the things that go on in here." Leaning in close once more she whispered, "Trust you?"

Scared almost to the point of passing out at the alternative, I nodded meekly.

Sitting back, she ran a hand over my stomach and trailed a long finger up between my breasts. I wanted the bed to swallow me up as her pale blue eyes shone with lust. She seemed almost distracted as she spoke. "Never thought in a million years I'd get to do that... to have Chloe Harper at my mercy after all this time."

My mouth felt like sandpaper and my voice came out in a rasp. "Please, who are you? How do you know my name? I've never even seen you before tonight."

She shook her head. "Haven't you, Chloe? Sure about that? Part of me is quite pleased you don't recognize me - it shows how much I've changed and put my miserable childhood behind me." She squeezed my cheeks again and I heard the latex squeak as her fingers tightened. She put her thick, full lips against mine and I tried to recoil in horror as her tongue ran across them in a wet line before she pulled away and went on.

"But the other part of me wants to beat the living shit out of you for not even remembering the girl that you tormented and bullied." Her voice became more animated. "You and Stacey fucking Calvert and that bitch Donna Stone. I want to do severe harm to you three - and I will do some pretty nasty things to you, Chloe - but if I am ever lucky enough to have your little ringleader Ellie Owen in my clutches, I will fucking kill her. And I will kill her slowly and painfully."

She tapped me playfully on the nose. "Do you remember how you used to torment the life out of me? Hmm? Bully me and make me so fucking down on myself that I started to self-harm and wanted to fucking die?"

As she spoke the words, it all came flooding back and a huge tidal wave of shame washed over me, drowning the feeling of abject fear it now replaced. Now I knew why she looked vaguely familiar. My voice was a whisper. "Oh my God - Sabrina Longley. Oh fuck, Sabrina - I am so sor-"

Once again, the hand went to my mouth, her face inches from mine. "Don't go there, Chloe. Don't fucking well go down the 'sorry' route. 'Sabrina the Teenage Bitch'. That was one name you called me, wasn't it? What was the other one?" She squeezed even harder now and I cried out as her fingers dug into my cheeks just above the jawline. My mouth filled with saliva and I retched as she shook my head hard.

"I said, what was the other name, Chloe - the one with the initials? The one that made me sob every time you said it and wish I could rip my fucking repulsive face off?"

I had barely thought about it for almost ten years and my shame redoubled. I gasped out the three letters through pinched lips. She put her face so close to my mouth, I could smell her skin, her hair, the French cigarette. "Sorry, didn't catch that Chloe. Try again."

She released her grip a fraction and I flexed my aching jaw. I repeated the letters slowly. "J...T...D."

She sat back smiling as if recalling a fond memory. "Oh of course, JTD! That was it!" Then she hung her head and her voice dropped to a whisper. "JTD, eh? How could I ever have forgotten?"

With a feral scream, she raised her left arm and smashed the whip down onto the bed next to me with a dull thud, making me flinch in terror. Her voice was almost hysterical. "How could I ever forget, eh?" She held her other hand over her eyes. "How, Chloe? How could I ever forget it?" She seemed close to tears at the memory. "That was it - JTD. 'Join the Dots'. Remember when Ellie actually tried to do it with a marker pen?"

I closed my eyes and nodded, feeling close to tears myself. Not content with the constant mocking of her terrible acne and giving her such a cruel nickname, myself, Stacey and Donna had held her head while Ellie tried to draw lines between her spots to 'join the dots'. She'd managed about eight when one popped and even Ellie was grossed out enough to desist.

The shame I felt was overwhelming. It had just seemed like a laugh to us. A bit of fun with the ugly duckling with bottle-bottom glasses, braces on her teeth and a complexion like the surface of the Sun.

Easy prey.

And now one of the pathetic little gang of bullies that had abused her was lying at her mercy; easy prey herself. There was nothing I could do to mitigate my part in it all -- nothing to say that wouldn't sound like I was trying to wriggle out of it. It was done, and now retribution was apparently coming my way.

She moved close once again, pointing to her left cheek. "Still got a few little scars as a reminder." She then tapped twice on her temple. "But the real, lasting scars are in here." She shook her head. "Yeah, the spots have gone, but the cigarette burns and knife cuts - they are still here. I just need these fucking horrible tattoos to cover them."

She ran her hands over her sleeve tattoos. I had a couple of smaller ones myself and I had seen worse and thought them quite tasteful. She sounded almost wistful. "Ok, those scars were self-inflicted, but they were all down to you four in the end. And they cost me a lot more pain and a lot of money to cover them up."

She sighed. "I'm still not sure if you made me into what I am now or whether I'd have got there all by myself." She stood and I braced myself for what might come next.

"I love what I've become, Chloe. But I hate who I was before with all my heart and I hate the little gang that drove me to do those things to myself." She laughed. "Sabrina the Teenage Bitch? Got news for you, Chloe. I'm not a teenager anymore."

She reached out and picked up a glass from a nearby table. "You probably need a drink by now."

Terrified beyond belief at being drugged again, I shook my head and clamped my lips shut. She pinched my nose and put a hand over my mouth until I gasped for breath. It took a few seconds, but with my mouth wide open, she was easily able to tip the contents down my throat.

As the room began to spin, she blew me a kiss. "Goodnight, Chloe. See you tomorrow when the fun really starts. Oh and I'm not Sabrina anymore. I'm 'Bree' now."

As my shutters came down for the second time that night, the last words I heard were, "But believe me, I'm more of a bitch than you could ever have imagined."

When I came-to the second time, I felt as if I had been in a car crash. Daylight streamed in through the huge windows and assailed my senses. I was barely able to take in that I was on a different bed and in a different room to the previous night. It was a relief to realise I was not restrained as my stomach lurched and I thanked some higher being as I dived towards a sliding door praying there was a toilet beyond.

Fifteen minutes later I was feeling marginally better having dry retched until my stomach was in knots and showered in a surprisingly well-stocked bathroom. Before I showered, I tried to take off the collar, but it and the wrist bands were secured by small padlocks. As I returned to the bed, I saw a sports water bottle on the bedside table with a strip of painkillers. They didn't last long and I sucked on the plastic straw of the bottle greedily trying to get fluids back into my system.

Knowing full well what the result would be, I tried the outer door of the room. Giving in to the inevitable, I put on the long, plain night shirt I had slept in and lay down, trying to take in and grasp my situation. London and the Thames were about four storeys below and the building looked like it had once been a warehouse. I could see Canary Wharf away to my left and my limited knowledge of the capital told me I was somewhere in Docklands, to the east of the City. From my brief reminiscence of last night, the place looked expensive and sumptuous. It must have cost a fortune and I wondered how the hell Sabrina Longley - now seemingly to be known as 'Bree' - could afford such a place.

My mind was racing. It was obviously a coincidence we had met. We had not seen each other for almost ten years, when we were all sixteen and I was in a gang of four girls. At best, we were unpleasant and at worst outright evil. It was not my proudest achievement, being part of that unnamed little coterie. I had not seen the other members for a long time and that was fine by me. The last I had heard Donna was a pole-dancer in a 'Gentleman's Club' somewhere in the East Midlands. Stacey was on her third pregnancy - the first having gifted her a darling little bundle of joy on her seventeenth birthday - and Ellie had been in and out of Young Offenders Institutions for possession and Actual Bodily Harm more times that we had mocked poor Sabrina.

We had done everything we shouldn't, from smoking to taking drugs, to doing favours behind the gym block for a few ciggies or a joint. I had tried to forget it because it was a horrible period of my life and I deeply regretted being part of it. I had only been that girl for a few months, and I was nothing like her before or since. I did it all to fit in -- to be one of the Alpha Pack and when I left school at sixteen, I put it all behind me and locked it in a small padded cell at the back of my brain, barely giving the other three girls or Sabrina a second thought.

But now, thanks to a chance encounter with the girl who's life we made a misery, it had all come crashing back down on me. The thought of causing her to self-harm revolted me and I hated myself for being such a craven little bully, even for a few short months.

I had no idea how she had come to be where she was now, but I had no doubt I would find out pretty soon.

I did a quick recce of the room, which didn't take long. Apart from the bed, the locked outer door and the bathroom, there was little else but a table on which sat a large tv, speakers and a land-line telephone. Inevitably, it was blocked for outgoing calls. The view was pretty damned fine and it would have made a lovely little Airbnb. At least it would if I hadn't been locked in and apparently a prisoner.

I was just beginning to come round and feel a bit more human when the phone rang with an excruciatingly loud, old-fashioned bell-like ringtone and I almost soiled the bed in shock. It took me a moment to realise that the incoming number shown on the screen was my mobile. Things were getting weirder by the minute. With a shaking hand I picked up the receiver. The voice on the other end sounded jaunty and in good spirits.

"Morning Chloe, hope you slept well. Don't say a fucking word or I will keep you locked in there all day, understand?"

Determined to comply with her instructions, I stayed mute. There was a long silence, then, "Oh for Donald Duck's sake - not literally, you muppet!"

Oh shit. Her rules, her game. "I understand."

"Good girl. Now you can shut the fuck up and listen."

In the interests of retaining my sanity, I shut the fuck up and listened. She sounded breathless. "Bloody hell, Chloe - you've got some nice clothes. Bloody suitcase weighs a ton. Just checked you out of your hotel. Amazing how the receptionist never realised a strapping five-foot ten brunette wasn't the five-foot-nothing blonde midget that checked in eh? Never mind -- I've got your gear and I'm on my way back. Just think of the fortune I've saved you. Got you a nice little refund and for the next few days you'll be staying free-gratis at a lovely little Bree and B!"

There was a little giggle. "See what I did there? Bree and B? Not bad for an ex-teenage bitch, eh?" There was silence for a moment. "Oh well - I did tell her to be quiet, I suppose. Right, I'm heading down to the Circle Line so see you soon. It's only three stops then a few on the Docklands Light Railway. Be about twenty minutes then I'll be in for a little chat and tell you what I've got in store for you. Fucking hell, Chloe - fate dealt me a killer hand last night and believe me, girl - I am going all in!"