A Different Kind Of Pressure

Four hours later. I was tied to a chair in Mathew's kitchen. Well, that was new. Heh. Heh. I was really getting pretty bored of it by then, not least because my captor had disappeared before finishing his story, so I was still waiting to hear the end of it. What was more, I couldn't even scream to vent my frustration, because Mathew had decided to tape my mouth before he left. Real helpful.

"No one comes here. They wouldn't hear me." I'd tried to talk him out of it when I saw him approaching with the dreaded roll of tape.

"There are some," he replied, his teeth gritted, "and they're the sort that wouldn't want to see you tied up. Trust me, Eilidh, it's better this way." He seemed determined to always call me by my full name, perhaps to make sure there was no sense of friendship between us. Certainly there was nothing but cold animosity at the moment, and there wasn't likely to be anything else.

I struggled against my bonds, feeling the pain as the duct tape pulled at the soft skin of my face. Mathew had left the radio on and while it had annoyed me during the music shows - not my style; too much talking in between - I was interested to hear the news. Especially when it turned to the local police.

"Anybody who has seen Eilidh McConnery since yesterday morning is urged to come forward. She disappeared from the streets near her home at around eleven o'clock and has not been seen since. Her parents are exceedingly worried and would be grateful for any news." The policeman listed a telephone number before the radio station turned back to their reporter.

Yesterday morning? So I was right - I had lost a whole day. Well, that just blew everything. If Mathew intended to keep me here for any longer I was going to be in a huge amount of trouble. My parents would be out of their minds, worrying about where I was. They had called the police already, for goodness sake. I couldn't do this to them, yet I didn't have a choice.

After a few minutes I gave up on trying to work myself free. It wasn't working. At all.

At this rate I'll be sitting on this chair until I starve to death, I thought morbidly. Is he planning to feed me? To give me something to drink? To let me go to the toilet?

As soon as I thought about that last point I wished I hadn't, for it made me suddenly aware of the pressure on my bladder. Oh no. I couldn't go much longer without getting to the bathroom soon, and I really did not want to pee all over the floor. Besides, I didn't think Mathew would like that very much.

How long had it been since I went to the loo? I'd been unconscious, of course, which had slowed down all of my bodily processes, but it was still a whole day. Man. No wonder I was so desperate. 

I stared at the wall, trying not to think about it. Please come back. Please come back. Please come back - soon. I'm going to pee myself. Please come back. Well, there went my not thinking about it, but I honestly couldn't help it. Mathew, please come back.

If he didn't come soon, I was in a lot of trouble.

 

The End

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