Chapter 20

The first thing Robin became aware of was that she was lying on a hard surface. She wondered if she was in the hospital. The smell convinced her that she wasn't. Obnoxious, musty smell. She opened her eyes and saw the looming silhouettes of old furniture. The room was small and there were not any windows. The only light was a faint glow coming from under a door. The cement floor felt unpleasantly cold. Robin swore and stirred. She knew that her ankle was broken but didn't expect the pain to be so torturous. Trying not to move it, she sat up and cautiously touched her jaw. It was sore. Her left arm protested as she moved it. There was a swelling just under her elbow. Despite the gravity of the situation, Robin felt almost happy. The man hadn't raped her. At least, not yet. She looked at the door and shivered, then focused her attention to her ankle. The black stocking could not disguise the hideous swelling. Even the slightest move was causing more and more pain. It was certainly broken. Robin wiped the cold sweat off her brow, then examined the room closely. Something that looked like a tablecloth was lying in the corner. She gingerly lifted her injured ankle off the floor and began crawling toward the corner. The tablecloth seemed to be suitable. Robin managed to tear it. After taking off her stocking very cautiously, she touched her swollen ankle here and there trying to determine the extent of the injury. Bandaging her own ankle proved to be a lot more difficult than bandaging someone else's. When Robin finished, her hands were trembling from pain and exhaustion. She rested for a while, then stood up and hopped toward the door using the wall to support herself. The movement aggravated the pain so she had to stop a couple of times to catch her breath. The door was locked. When she was about to sit on the floor again, the door opened. The man looked into the room. He appeared to be no more sober than before.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," Robin answered as calmly as she could.

He gazed at her ankle and scratched his chin.

"You can't walk, eh?"

Robin nodded.

"Do you need a doctor?"

She nodded again.

"You are a doctor," he said and chuckled.

Leaning on the wall, her broken ankle elevated above the floor, Robin felt vulnerable as never before. The man noticed her confusion.

"Let me help you, babe. Lean on me! There is a big bed down there..."

"Thank you, but I would rather go. Just let me go."

"No, no dear. You will stay with me!"

The man drew closer, then placed his hands on her shoulders. Robin shivered. Paralyzed by fear, she didn't move as he hugged her and lifted her off the floor. Carrying her that way, he came out of the cellar. Robin closed her eyes and tried to think. The smell of alcohol made her dizzy.

"You killed a man. Why?"

"Don't talk! I want you to be silent."

The man placed her on a bed and sat beside her. After that, he unceremoniously rolled her over on her stomach. The pain became agonizing as her broken ankle bumped against the bedpost. Robin started to weep.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He put his rude hands on her hips and squeezed, then slipped them up toward her slim waist. Robin stopped weeping. She turned and smiled through her tears.

"You like me, eh!" the man asked and smirked.

"It makes no difference if I like you or not. You will screw me either way."

"Smart girl," he said, pulled up her blouse and grabbed her breasts.

"I'm not gonna oppose you but you must help me too," Robin said calmly.

"Really! How?"

"Look, my ankle is broken. It's very painful. I need a drink."

The man stared at her with surprise, and then laughed. He brought a glass and filled it with vodka. Robin dried the content. Reaching out for the bottle, she clumsily sat up in the bed. He was dismayed as she filled the glass again. She sipped and smiled impishly at him. He smiled back. His smile evaporated as Robin broke the bottle on his forehead. He grunted, rolled his eyes and slumped down on her.