Real Love

REAL LOVE

DB#19

Edited by kenjisato. A huge thank you for your hard work.

Love and relationships are never like the movies.

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Hi, welcome back to Middletown!

Our MC made her first appearance in "A Christmas Gift", the story that gave an ending to "Peace of Mind". Some of the characters in both stories play a part in this story.

However, you can read this story as it is, and hopefully, enjoy it.

Check my profile for a brief introduction to Middletown and a suggested reading order.

CHAPTER 1

Callie´s eyes blinked open to darkness. For a moment, she was disoriented and wondered what had woken her, but then she became aware of footsteps over her head.

She lay still and listened as someone puttered in the kitchen at the top of the stairs, but tensed when the footsteps paused, and she heard the slide and click of the first bolt being slid open. Then, came the second, and finally, the third bolt.

A moment of silence passed before the door swung open. Light immediately raced down the steps and across the basement's concrete floor. By the time it reached Callie's cage, it was weak and dull, but even that bit of light made her blink after the pitch black she and the other women were left in most of the day.

Callie could hear them stirring and felt the tension building behind her. Terror was suddenly a living, breathing thing in that dark, moist room. She tried not to let it claim her as well, and began counting backward from one hundred to distract herself. A clear head was necessary if she wanted to escape. Her brother, Landon, had taught her that trick, along with self-defense.

Fear led to panicky actions and reactions. It led to mistakes, and there was no room for mistakes if she wanted to get herself and the others out of this house of horrors.

Her attention was claimed when the bit of light from above was suddenly blocked by a large figure filling the doorway. It was Boogeyman with a tray in hand. That's what Callie and the other girls called him.

The light danced around his body and shifted on the floor as he started down. The heavy thud of his boots on the wooden stairs was loud in the sudden hush. The women were now as still as deer caught in headlights.

Callie held her breath and waited as Boogeyman reached the bottom of the steps. He walked past her cage without a glance, heading for the back of the room and the cages there. He always started at the back, distributing a bottle of water, a bowl of oatmeal, and fruit to each captive until he reached the front. Everyone would get a meal except for the woman who had been chosen for that night's 'fun'.

Knowing that, Callie tried to make out who was getting food and who wasn't, but her cage was located at the front of the room, and the virtual darkness the other women were in, made it hard to see anything. She thought Boogeyman had stopped at every cage but couldn't be sure.

When Boogeyman stopped in front of her cage, she realized that he was now dangling the tray by one handle alongside his leg, empty.

She let her breath out on a slow, silent hiss. It was her turn for a 'night out' then.

Callie shivered from head to toe. The girls who had been out had told the rest how they had been gang-raped multiple times. The last girl, Jennifer, hadn't said a word since then.

Callie remained still, as Boogeyman set the tray on the ground and retrieved his keys from his front pants pocket. The tray would remain there until he returned her to her cage. He'd use it to carry away all the bowls he'd just handed out.

Well, he would if he was to return, but Callie didn't intend to allow that.

The door of her cage swung open, but she waited for Boogeyman's terse, "Come," before shifting to her hands and knees to crawl out. Her home for the last seven days was four feet high, four feet wide, and the same deep. There wasn't room to stand, or even lie inside it.

For seven days, she'd either lain curled in a ball on the floor, or sat with her knees tucked to her chest. She'd spent all her time in this cage, eating and even relieving herself there in the bedpan provided. The bedpans were removed once a day when Boogeyman collected their bowls after feeding and returned after emptying.

"Up," came the abrupt order, as Callie paused on her hands and knees on the cold, concrete floor. She wasn't surprised when the order was accompanied by Boogeyman grasping her arm and ragging her upward. After so long without being able to straighten her legs, she needed help and barely restrained a groan of pain as she came upright. Callie was even grateful for his supporting hand on her arm as he walked her silently up the stairs.

Much to her relief, the worst of the pain eased by the time she reached the top step, but she continued to lean into his hold, even deliberately stumbling on the last step to give the impression that she wasn't completely steady on her feet.

He'd expect that. Thanks to the drugs they put in the oatmeal she was expected to be slow and a little uncoordinated.

Only that she wasn't.

Callie had stopped eating the oatmeal three days ago. She was hungry and weak, but clearheaded. Her only worry was that she would be weaker than usual after three days of eating only one fruit. But there was nothing she could do about that and would just have to count on her skills, her strength, and the element of surprise to see her through what was coming. She had no intention of dying in her own filth in that damned, stinking cage in the basement or being sold as a prostitute to some foreign country.

Callie continued to lean into Boogeyman's hold and throw in an occasional stumble as he led her across the kitchen. She let her head hang forward as if she was too weary and stoned to hold it up. Doing so, allowed her to dart her eyes swiftly around under the cover of her long hair as she searched for a possible weapon or chance at escape.

There was nothing. The kitchen counters and table were clear of anything useful. There were no knife handles sticking out of a handy knife block, no glasses or cups sitting about that she could shatter and use as a weapon, not even a coffee machine or toaster. It could have been an empty house.

Callie continued forward, eyes searching as Boogeyman led her into a hall and up another set of stairs to the top floor of the house.

Boogeyman steered her left at the landing, urging her toward the back of the house.

The hallway ended at a large bedroom. She refused to look at the filthy bed as they walked past it to the ensuite bathroom. The walls were painted green, the toilet was green, the sink was green, and there was a green tub with small green tiles covering the wall around it.

Callie thought it was incredibly ugly, as Boogeyman urged her to the side and moved past her to bend over the tub and start a bath running.

"Take off your clothes," Boogeyman ordered. He produced a knife and held the point at Callie´s throat.

Callie undressed slowly and stood naked in front of him. She felt ill. She knew what would come next but refused to panic. Her gaze slid around the small room, settling on a collection of items on the sink counter: a towel, a washcloth, a bar of soap, shampoo, and a clean white robe.

Callie had started to look away from the collection when she had second thoughts. Boogeyman was straightening from setting the stopper and turning on the taps. He would turn his attention to her next. With no time to lose, she snatched up the shampoo, popped the lid, and squirted it at Boogeyman's face as he turned toward her. When the man gave a startled cry, fingers reaching for his eyes, she followed up with a kick to his crotch.

She had hoped to send him tumbling backward into the bath, but either he was more steadfast on his feet than most, or she was weaker than she'd expected after three days without food. He did stagger back a step, but that was it, and even as he did, he lashed out with one arm, hitting her in the chest.

The blow was like an explosive charge going off in front of her. She was sent flying through the air, and out of the bathroom. She landed on something with enough impact that it collapsed beneath her weight with a clatter, and then her head was bouncing off the floor. She was left gasping for air with stars exploding behind her closed eyes.

Fighting off the pain radiating through her head and body, she sucked in great drafts of air, relieved when her lungs expanded. For a moment, she'd feared the wind had been knocked out of her, which would have left her temporarily helpless, and she didn't have time for that. Boogeyman was even then stumbling out of the bathroom, wiping the shampoo from his red, angry eyes.

Callie turned onto her stomach, intending to push herself to her feet and start running, but she paused when her hand came down on a shaft of wood. It was the better part of one of the legs from the dressing bench that had sat at the foot of the bed.

So that was what she'd landed on, Callie thought as she noted that the once rectangular leg had splintered diagonally as the bench had collapsed. It left a rather pointed tip. A stake of sorts, she thought, grasping the item just as Boogeyman's hand clamped onto her shoulder. His fingers dug painfully into skin and muscle as he jerked her over onto her back.

Callie didn't fight. Instead, she used the momentum to help her stake the oversized bastard in the chest. They both froze then and simply stared at each other, but then she glanced down to his chest to see where she'd got him. It had all happened so quickly; she hadn't had much chance to aim.

Luck had been with her, however, because she'd hit him dead-on in the heart. If he had a heart, she thought grimly, refusing to feel guilty for what she'd just done.

A raspy breath from Boogeyman drew her eyes back up as he released her. He stumbled back a step, gaping at the makeshift weapon in his chest, and then he suddenly fell back. Boogeyman hit the hardwood floor with a solid thump that didn't cover the sound of his head cracking on the wood.

For a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of simply staying where she was. Her chest was burning where Boogeyman had landed the punch that had sent her flying, her head was pounding like crazy from its meeting with the floor, and the rest of her body—her back especially—was complaining about the abuse it had suffered when she'd landed on the bench. But she'd felled the monster who had subjected them all to such rough treatment and humiliation.

Well, one of the monsters, she acknowledged with a sigh.

Boogeyman was not the one in charge. He was just the jailer. And since Boogeyman had been preparing her for being raped, the rest of the gang was no doubt expected back soon. Callie didn't have time to sit about regathering her strength or nursing boo-boos.

Grimacing, Callie forced herself to sit up straight, then grabbed the nearest bedpost and pulled herself to her feet. Her head spun and a shaft of pain shot through her back, but she managed to get upright. As she waited for the spinning to stop, she glanced down and saw that there was a blood-stained piece of wood poking up through the also blood-stained upholstered seat of the broken bench she'd landed on. It seemed Boogeyman wasn't the only one who'd gotten staked.

A quick search revealed that she was bleeding. She craned her head to get a better view of the damage. Much to her relief, it looked like it was just a flesh wound. It was bleeding freely, but as far as she could tell, no vital organs had been hit.

Callie grabbed a towel and pressed it to the wound, trying to slow the loss of blood, and then spared a glance for Boogeyman. He lay prone, dead. Reassured, she turned her attention to the room itself. There was a phone on the bedside table farthest from the bathroom. Like the décor, the phone was old, but she didn't care so long as it worked.

Pushing away from the post, she moved to the bedside table, a bit alarmed to find she was unsteady on her feet.

Ignoring it, Callie dialed nine-one-one.

Her legs were shaking and her head swimming as she waited for her call to be answered. Afraid she'd collapse, she almost sat on the bed, but then changed her mind. She might not be able to get back up.

Fortunately, the table was between the bed and the outer wall, and a window was only a foot away. Pulling the old-fashioned cord taut, she eased to the window and leaned against the sill as her call was answered.

"nine-one-one. What's your emergency?"

"I need the police and an ambulance. Immediately," she said, frowning at how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

"What's your emergency and the address?" the dispatcher asked.

"I don't know the address. I've been kidnapped and—"

"Kidnapped?" the dispatcher interrupted.

"Yes. And there are six other women in the basement," she added grimly, glancing toward Boogeyman.

"Were these other women kidnapped, too?" the dispatcher asked, surprise showing in his previously professional voice.

"Yes," Callie answered impatiently. "You'll need more than one ambulance. I'm wounded, Boogeyman is dead, and then there are the other women."

"Boogeyman?" The dispatcher's voice took on an edge of suspicion as he picked out the name she and the other women had given to their caretaker. "Did you say that Boogeyman is dead?"

"Yes," she said, closing her eyes with frustration and wishing she'd kept that bit for the emergency workers to learn when they got there. Since she hadn't, she had to explain or risk the dispatcher thinking she was crazy. "Look, Boogeyman's just the name we called him. None of us knew his real name. He was the one who fed us and fetched us from our cages for mates to feed us with rape drugs and rape us. And, yes, I'm pretty sure I killed him. I staked him in the heart."

"Did you say you staked Boogeyman in the heart?"

There was definite suspicion now.

Callie leaned her cheek wearily against the window. The glass was cold against her skin as she tried to clear her increasingly sluggish thoughts and sort out the best way to ensure her call was taken seriously and help was sent.

Callie finally said, "I realize some of what I've said probably sounds crazy and I'm sorry. But I'm telling you the truth. I'm bleeding and about to pass Jennifer and Monica haven't talked much and if they aren't dead, they're probably dying. You need to send help, an EMT, and the police, lots of them, and fast. They—" She paused and stiffened as she became aware of a faraway whirring sound. The automatic garage door opening, she realized as adrenaline shot through her. It was probably the only modern item in this place, and she was grateful as hell for the warning it was giving her.

"Ma'am?" the dispatcher asked when she went silent.

"They are back. Send help," she hissed.

"Who is back?" the dispatcher asked.

"Who do you think?" Callie asked harshly. "The men who kidnapped us, you idiot. And when they get up here and see that Boogeyman is dead, they'll probably kill me and maybe even the other women. Send help now."

"Ma'am, just stay calm. I—"

"Have you traced the call yet? Do you know the address?" Callie interrupted, and then as the whirring stopped, she added, "It doesn't matter. I'll leave the phone off the hook. Trace the call and send help."

"Ma'am, I need you to remain calm and stay on the line. I—"

"Yeah, well, I need a UZI, but I guess we're both out of luck," Callie said dryly. "I'm leaving the phone off the hook and booking it. Trace the call and send help," she repeated grimly as the whirring below started again. The garage door closing, obviously, she thought as she set the phone on the table. They'd parked and would enter the house and come up here next. She only had moments.

Rather than risk moving back through the house and running into the monsters she was trying to escape, she turned to the window, relieved when it slid up easily. She was even more relieved to find there was no screen to have to deal with. Thank God it was an old house and let go. If it had been a new house with those fancy newfangled windows that didn't open all the way and had screens, she'd have had to take a chance and leave the room to find an exit.

She leaned out the window and peered down. She was on the second floor overlooking a large backyard. There was no handy tree or trellis to climb down from, but bushes lined the house below. If nothing else, they'd break her fall.

Grimacing at the thought, she swung one leg over to straddle the ledge, then paused as she heard a door close somewhere in the house. Probably the door from the garage to the house, Callie realized and threw her other leg over the ledge, only to pause again. There was a window below this one. She didn't know the layout of the house very well and had no idea if he might now be in the room below her.

Callie closed her eyes and forced herself to wait and listen to the faint sounds of movement in the house. But the moment she heard the thud of footsteps on the stairs, she said a quick prayer and pushed herself off the ledge.

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Callie felt a stinging burning sensation all over her body that didn't, at first, make any sense to her. When she opened her eyes, it was dark, but somehow it took her only a few seconds to realize that she was lying in a blanket of soft wet grass. She tried to stand up, but a sudden screaming pain in her back brought her back down to her knees.

It took a moment for the pain to subside enough for her to get to her feet, where she found herself standing in what appeared to be an irrigation ditch in the middle of a field, and she had no idea how she got there. It was cold. As if all of that wasn't problematic enough, she was also completely naked.

Callie was confused and trying to make sense of what was happening when she saw some car's lights in the distance slowly moving her way. The thought didn't stay with her long, as her survival instinct kicked in. Without consciously thinking about it, Callie knew that she was in grave danger if she didn't get help soon.

"Hypothermia," she breathed out. She was in her senior year to become a nurse; she knew the symptoms. "Stay alive," she told herself.

Despite the pain in her head and her back, Callie started limping toward the spot where she had seen the vehicle lights. She guessed the distance to be about a hundred and fifty yards.

She could feel the burning sensation from the contact of the chilly grass against her skin as her legs were not yet numb. As she walked, she began to have problems getting her left leg to move as it should, and, the farther, she walked, the more unstable it became. Several times her leg collapsed under her causing her to fall, making her journey even more difficult.

By the time Callie made it to the road, her feet were completely numb, and her legs were beginning to lose their feeling, too. She was having difficulty thinking and assumed that the cold was affecting her brain.

The only thought in her aching head was that she had to get help, or very soon she would die. Callie looked in both directions along the road but could see nothing. She could no longer make herself walk. She was sure that she was going to die and was just about to lie down on the road and wait for the end when an RV drove past her.

Callie raised her arms over her head, well, she actually only managed to get her right arm over her head. Her left arm decided to go on vacation as her left leg had. It just didn't want to cooperate.

She wondered if the driver of the vehicle had stopped when she passed out. The last thing Callie remembered clearly was someone shouting, "What happened to you?"

CHAPTER 2