Jamie and I sit in a tense silence. I know him well enough to understand that he's deep in thought. I wonder to myself if he's reconsidering how he views last week now that I've explained my side. Does he still think it was just sex?
Of course he does, I'd be fooling myself to believe otherwise. As far as he's concerened, this is my doing. I'm the liar. I'm the cheat. I am whatever helps him justify the things he does. Either way, it's not his fault, and that's all the matters to him.
I break first. The pain shooting through my shoulder is long past the point of me being able to grin and bare it, and I imagine this gash on my head needs to be checked out.
"Can I have a towel please?," I ask. "I tried to stop the bleeding with some tissue but it's not doing much."
Jamie sighs, not so much with sorrow or regret for the injuries he's caused, but with annoyance that he's going to have to help.
"Don't move," he says before leaving the room with the door wide open. There would be no point in trying my luck with it though, he's locked the front door, and I don't fancy my chances from the balcony at this height.
He arrives back a moment later with an ice pack and small towel in hand.
"Here," he says, "put that over your eye. It will help with the swelling."
"It probably needs stitches," I tell him, "and my arm, it's bad, you're going to have to let me see a doctor Jamie."
"Not a hope."
"Please, I won't say anything. I'll tell them I fell, or that I was mugged or something. Nobody will know it was you."
"I said no Izzy, we can look after it here."
"How? I'll need an X-ray."
Frowning, Jamie stares down at my arm.
"I saw my cousin Jordan reset his brother's shoulder once when we were kids. We were playing a game of football in his backyard when he fell trying to get a touch down. It was gross actually, his whole arm was just hanging there. Jordan walked right on over, pulled his arm up over his head and popped it right back in. I'll never forget it. I can try and do the same."
"Are you insane?" I hiss, "You can't do that!"
"It shouldn't hurt that much, not as much as it does now."
His indifference to the pain I'm in is more unnerving than anything else. He has no idea how much it will hurt, or how much it does. And he doesn't care.
"Jamie are you hearing yourself? You're not a doctor, this needs medical attention."
"Listen, you either let me do it or you just deal with it Izzy, because you're not going anywhere near a hospital."
This is crazy. What's his plan? To keep me in here forever?
"No," I say, "you're not touching me."
Jamie shrugs his shoulders. "Fine, suit yourself." Turning away from me, he grabs the footstool, taking it with him as he leaves and closes the door behind him.
What the hell?
"Wait!" I call out to him, "where are you going?"
I hear the key turn, locking me inside again.
"I'm tired," he says through our wooden divide, "I need to get some sleep."
"Jamie, you said this was just while you cleaned yourself up. Let me out!"
"I never said I wouldn't leave you in there Iz," he says, "I just let you think I wouldn't. You made your bed, now it's time to lay in it."
Total darkness envelops the room as he turns out the light. This can't be real.
"Jamie?," I call out one more time.
"What?"
"Please." Sobs choke me as I beg him, he has to see how bad of an idea this is.
"I don't want to hear another sound from you Izzy, do I have to come back in there and make that happen or will you save me the trouble?"
Pressing my head to the frame, I bite down on my lip to quiet myself. I'm better off with the door between us.
"That's what I thought," he grumbles.
Jamies footsteps thump across the bedroom floor until the sound of the door closing follows. I'm not too sure if he's still inside until I hear the bed creek after a minute or so. I honestly can't believe it. How is he going to be able to sleep knowing that I'm in here, bruised and bloodstained? How can he be so sick?
I have to be tired of asking that question. How can he be so cruel? How can he be so uncaring? How can he be so twisted? Every time I think he won't take it a step further he manages to find a way. There's probably nothing he could do now that could surprise me.
As the hours pass, my body becomes stiff from sitting against the cold tile. There's no way to get comfortable, and there's no way I could sleep either. I just sit.
The pain that shoots through my shoulder becomes more and more unbearable as the night wears on. It's like I can feel every single nerve ending. If I had believed Jamie was really going to just leave me here, I'd have let him try to set it, the pain is too much.
Still, I don't dream of waking him to ask. Instead I consider how long I might be here. What if he doesn't let me go? How long would it take people to realise? I told Will not to worry if he didn't hear from me. How stupid does one person have to be?
Every now and again I check for any sign of light coming under the bathroom door, but it's still quite dark out there. Jamie will have to make a choice soon, and the closer we get to daylight, the more I become afraid of what that might be.
At some point he wakes and I hear him coughing as his feet pad across the floor. There's no sign of sunrise yet, so I know it's early for him.
He doesn't check on me, he heads straight towards the living room, or maybe the kitchen, it's hard to tell, but it sounds like he's moving things around or pulling out drawers.
After awhile, he comes back to the bedroom again and turns on the bathroom light. The sudden change hurts my eyes.
"Izzy, are you awake?," he asks.
"Yes," I say. How could I not be?
"Move back from the door."
I do as he says, not that I could really tackle him anyway, that would be pointless.
He hovers in the doorway after he opens it, looking down on me as I sit on the floor. There's fresh stubble on his face, he looks tired though, so he must not have slept as well as it sounded.
"Did you sleep?" he asks.
He's so cold, like a total stranger.
"No, I couldn't with this," I say, looking down at my arm. "How long are you planning to keep me in here Jamie? I don't think I can stand how much it hurts."
"I gave you the oppertunity to fix it already, and you turned it down."
I don't miss how he avoided my first question, so it doesn't look like I'm getting out of here anytime soon.
"Do you really think you can put it back into place?"
"I can try," he says.
His lack of confidence doesn't give me much assurance, but I can't take the agony any longer.
"Okay," I offer meekly.
Looking back into the bedroom, Jamie seems to be searching for something. He checks through one of my drawers until he finds what he's after and comes back in, handing me a face cloth.
"Roll that up," he says. "You're going to need to bite down on it, and you'll need to try be quiet."
Fuck, is he serious? This is painful enough already, how can he expect me to quietly bare it?
"When you're ready," he says, "stand up and turn around."
I use my good arm to lean on the toilet seat and pull myself up, my legs are weak from the lack of sleep, but I won't dare ask him to help me.
Jamie comes close behind me, touching the palm of my hand. Having him in this close proximity makes me contemplate dealing with the pain rather than have him touch me, but ultimately I know I've no choice, I need his help.
He preps me for whats about to come.
"I'm going to bring your hand up and over like you're reaching for your opposite shoulder blade alright? That should make it pop right back in."
"Are you sure it will work?" I ask.
"No. Use the cloth."
I brace myself, wincing as he lifts my arm up and guides my palm over my head before pulling it down my back. I can't stop the screams that escape me, all I can do is clamp my teeth harder around the cloth.
He gives my hand one sharp tug, and then that popping noise sounds again, filling the room. Once he hears that he lets go, letting me fall forward, gripping my shoulder. I feel a lot less pain now, but god damn it hurt.
"That better?" he asks.
"Yeah. A bit." I hope he's not expecting any kind of thanks.
"Good, go sit down by the shower."
Moving myself across the room, I sit with my back against the wall to face him.
"What's going to happen here Jamie? If you're not going to let me go, what are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure yet," he says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He refuses to look at me.
"You can't keep me here. You know that much right? And if you do anything to me, people will know."
"Yeah, I bet you made sure of that didn't you?"
"Yes," I say, "and I'm telling you that much to help you, you could ruin your whole life Jamie. Annie knows our history, and that I planned to leave, so does Sarah and Mark. So if you do anything to me, you won't be able to hide it."
"Who says I want to hide it?"
Would he be that intent on revenge? To kill me and not care of the consequence for himself?
"Are you prepared to go to jail for it?" I ask.
Mulling it over, he doesn't come up with much of an answer before shrugging his shoulders.
"You'll know that much when I figure it out I guess." His words sound painfully ominous. He acts like he has nothing to lose.
Taking his hand from his pocket, Jamie leans his forearm against the wood of the door frame. A sinister smirk speards across his lips.
"I notice you left one name off your list there," he says, "was there a reason for that?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said that Annie knows our history, but you made no mention of her brother."
Of course he'd pick up on that. I left Will out because I don't want Jamie to think I even considered him.
"You say that there's nothing going on there Izzy, but then you intensionally don't bring him to my attention when you should, do you see the error in that?"
"Or maybe it's because he means that little to me Jamie," I say. "There is nothing there, there never has been."
"I don't know if I'll ever believe that Iz, no matter how much you say it… but I suppose I've got all day to think it over."
"All day? You're not leaving me here all day!"
"It's cute that you think you've a say in that, but I need to go to work, and you can't be trusted."
"You can't just leave me here," I say, almost panic stricken, "people will be looking for me Jamie."
"I'm aware of that, so it's a good thing I have this isn't it?"
Pulling my phone from his pocket, he waves it at me. The screen is cracked from all of the mess last night, but it clearly still works.
"You'll need to give me your passcode," he says. "at least you made that one hard to crack huh?"
He must think I'm completely stupid.
"You're not going to get away with this Jamie, you need to let me go."
"Passcode Izzy. We both know I'll get it, let's not make your arm pop back out in the process."
"No, I'm not giving it to you, I'm not staying in here."
Jamie shoots across the room toward me, the speed at which he turns from somewhat normal to rough is almost impressive. Dragging me to my feet, he pins me to the tiles behind and presses his thumb into the open wound above my eye. A surge of agony rips through me as blood immediately starts to gush down my face.
"Passcode, now!" he spits,
"Five one four nine! It's five one four nine!"
Dropping his hands, he lets me fall back to the floor.
"There, that wasn't so hard was it?" he asks. "I don't know why you always have to put up such a fight, it's like you enjoy making it hard on yourself."
Crying and in pain, I put my hand to my head, trying to stem the bleeding all over again. Jamie ignores me completely while he unlocks the phone. Whatever he does only takes a minute, then he locks it again and slips it back into his pocket.
"Alright," he says, "thats work taken care of. Now nobody is looking you."
I can only assume that means he messaged Carol or Michelle. I wonder if the ladies will find it strange that I've messaged instead of called, which is what I'd normally do. Will they realise there's something not quite right?
Jamie checks his watch, oddly seeming put out by the time. I'm still not sure how late it is, but it's not light out, so I know it's still too early for him to leave.
"I'll be back in a minute," he mumbles, closing the door behind him.
He's gone a lot longer than a minute, but when he does come back, his arms are filled with a bunch of food. Snacks mostly, chips, crackers and dip, some bread, a bowl and some cereal, he even brought in the carton of milk from the fridge.
"You have twenty minutes to eat as much as you want," he says, "but bear in mind, this is all you'll eat until I get home later, so you should fill yourself up."
"You're really serious?" I say, "You're really going to go to work and just leave me locked in here?"
"I don't have a choice Izzy, I need to be there today."
"You do have a choice, you can let me go!"
"Twenty minutes Izzy," he says, "get eating."
Shutting the door again, Jamie leaves me to deal with the blood pouring from my head without so much as a bandaid. I grab the bloodied towel off the floor from last night and press it to the cut, it's not long before that's completely soaked in blood and I have to use more toilet paper.
Once I get the bleeding under some sort of control, I decide not to take any chances on the food situation. I'm not sure why he doesn't just leave some in here when he leaves, but regardless, I pour a bowl of cereal and try to eat it. The turning of my stomach makes it near impossible, and by the time I hear him coming back, I've barely managed to eat half.
"Sorry", he says, shruging as he takes the bowl from my hands, "times up."
He moves all of the food he brought back to the kitchen before comimg back in, carrying things that seem a whole lot scarier.
"I wasn't sure if we had duct tape or not," he says, "but you keep the tool box well stocked I'll give you that. I was banking on having some chain but the rope will do."
Duct tape? Wait a second...
Jamie unravels some of the rope, then he lifts it up and holds it out toward my hands.
"Listen," he says, "I don't want to do this, just so you know, but this is on you. I have no choice, I can't trust you not to try and get out."
I realise now what he's doing, and quickly back up as he steps toward me.
"No! You can't do that to me Jamie please! I won't do anything, don't do that!"
"There's no point fighting it Izzy, I can't leave you here without it."
Pulling me toward the toilet, Jamie needs very little strength in order to push me down. Tears stream down my face as I beg him to stop, but it only makes him grumble with agitation.
"Please," I beg him, "just stay home Jamie, you don't need to do that."
"I can't, I've an important meeting today. I'll come back as soon as I'm freed up."
Hunkering down beside me, he wraps the rope under and around the toilet bowl a few times, forming a knot.
"Give me your hands," he says, then he takes the remainder of the rope and uses it to bind my wrists together, ignoring every one of my pleas.
"There should be enough slack for you to be able to use the toilet if you need it, but you won't be able to reach anything else so don't waste your time, you'll only hurt yourself."
I grasp at his shirt with my fingertips, desperately trying to reach any part of him that might still be good.
"This is wrong Jamie," I cry, "You need to think about this. What about tomorrow, and the next day? You can't keep this up. It won't work."
He pitilessly brushes my fingers away before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small face cloth, one that I usually remove my makeup with. I look on, completely terrified as he balls it up.
"I need you to open your mouth now Izzy."
I stare at him wide eyed in shock. He's fucking insane.
"You get the hell away from me with that Jamie!,"I cry.
"I won't ask again, open your mouth."
Refusing to do it, I kick my feet out towards him, yanking on the rope as hard as possible and screaming as loud as I can.
Jamie effortlessly bypasses my legs, taking a hold of one and using it to pin down the other before keeping it in place with his knee.
He leans over me while I scream, wishing anyone would hear me as he pushes the cloth past my teeth and into my mouth, making me gag in response.
"You need to stop that!" he says, "If you make yourself sick when I'm not here you'll choke."
I can barely make him out through the tears. I don't know how any person could do this to another.
Holding me still, Jamie adjusts the cloth, leaving some of it hanging out of my mouth before reaching for the duct tape and pulling at it as quick as he can. He forces a strip on over my mouth and then picks up the roll again.
Placing the end of the tape over my mouth once more, he begins to wrap it around the back of my head, then he does it again, and two more times after that.
It's far too tight, and the sticky backing drags and pulls at my skin, but all he does is check that my nose is uncovered and then stands back to see if I'm secured to his satisfaction.
He struggles to look at me for too long, even he can see how depraved this is.
"There's two things you need to know," he says. "The first is that if you vomit, you're dead. The second, is if I get back and find that you've in any way tried to move or loosen that tape or rope, you're dead then too."
I groan toward him, wanting to communicate somehow, but he's too focused on gathering things up and making sure he leaves nothing behind.
Stopping to take one last glance at me before he leaves, he looks down at me with distain.
"This is your own doing Izzy," he says.
He leaves me in complete darkness once again as he locks the door while I cry after him. There's nothing to see, and there's nowhere to run.
I'm his prisioner now.