“You are totally insane!” Peter said. “I already told you–Charlotte loves me. She is my wife. Why can’t you understand that?”
“Oh, I am sure she loves the Peter Blanchard that she once married,” Thomas said. “But what if that man no longer exists? How do you think she will react to the shell of a man that I send back to her? How will she feel when she discovers that you no longer even find her desirable?”
“You’re sick in the head!” Peter hissed.
“That may be true,” said Thomas. “But at least I am still a red-blooded, sexually active male–and I have plenty of time to demonstrate that to your wife while you are wasting away in here.”
“Charlotte is an intelligent, caring woman, not some shallow bimbo!” Peter snapped. “Do you honestly expect her to simply rush into your arms because you have poisoned me? If so, then you have seriously misjudged her!”
“Then perhaps you’d like to explain why she voluntarily came to my house this afternoon–and then posed naked for me?” Thomas said, taking out his phone.
***
That night, Peter lay awake on the bunk in his cell and stared numbly at the point in his forearm where the needle had punctured his skin. Had Mosley been telling Peter the truth about the poison or had he just been mind-fucking him? Maybe the syringe had been filled with a harmless liquid and Mosley just wanted to see if Peter would mentally self-destruct.
But what if the toxin was real? Was Peter really facing a miserable future of mental decline and physical disintegration as Mosley had described? Unable to write for a living anymore? Sexually impotent? Incapable of enjoying the simple pleasures in life? Every day a struggle just to get out of bed? How could he possibly go through life like that? And what about Charlotte? How would she cope living with a useless invalid? Was it even fair to expect her to?
Charlotte.
Ever since Mosley had shown him the slideshow, Peter’s mind had oscillated between his potential poisoning and Charlotte’s naked pictures. He couldn’t get them out of his head! Mosley had actually seen Peter’s wife naked, in a variety of obscene poses! In his own home! And the worst part was that in many of them she had been smiling! Had she enjoyed showing herself off to this stranger? What if Mosley uploaded them to the internet?
But after his initial shock and anger, Peter had forced himself to think it through. Mosley had made contact with Charlotte after Peter’s arrest and then he had coerced her into stripping for him. So she had done it for Peter. Rather than succumb to his jealousy, Peter told himself to be grateful instead. His wonderful wife was suffering right now, and she was doing it for him.
Not for the first time tonight, Peter flirted with the possibility of suicide. Maybe it would be best for the both of them if his health failed him. Yet he couldn’t help wondering if they might still find a way out of this horror. If there was even the slightest chance, then he had to try. He owed Charlotte that.
He closed his eyes knowing that sleep would not come. All he could see were the naked images of his wife and after a while he sat upright and stared manically at the plain white wall. He wanted to smash his head against it! He wondered where Charlotte was right now. Was she still at Mosley’s house? Was she still naked? Peter let out a desolate moan and began to pace the cell.
Chapter Six
It was gloomy inside the standing cell but there was enough light to see the feeding tube just in front of her mouth. Charlotte hadn’t used it yet, despite her terrible thirst–she was afraid of what might be in it.
After she had stood quite still for some time, an overhead shower had automatically turned on, drenching her naked body for several minutes with cold water. Instinctively, she had stuck out her tongue and lapped up a little water, but it hadn’t quenched her thirst. Before leaving, Thomas had told her that the feeding tube would sustain her while she was locked inside the standing cell. She had asked him how long he planned to keep her in there, but her question was met with silence. She was alone.
Charlotte stared at the closed sliding hatch in the door, inches from her face. She wished Thomas had left it open so she could at least get a glimpse of the basement. She had no idea how long she had been in here, but her legs were starting to ache. It was impossible to bend her knees in the tall, narrow chamber, so she lifted up onto her bare toes to stretch her calves. Her nipples brushed against the door and she shifted back but her elbows and buttocks immediately bumped into the rear wall. There wasn’t enough room on either side to raise her arms, so she alternately clenched her fists and straightened her fingers to help keep the circulation going. Now her neck started aching so she tilted her head back and her chin brushed against the feeding tube while the back of her head touched the back wall.
With nothing to do but stand still, she thought about Peter for the umpteenth time. He was the reason she was in here and she needed to be strong for him. Thomas had told her that she would have to endure two weeks of this madness–did that mean spending the entire time inside the standing cell? The very thought of it put a knot in her stomach and she had to fight to keep the panic from overwhelming her. She breathed deeply, her breasts pushing against the door, and she turned her mind back to Peter.
Thomas had promised that Peter would not be mistreated as long as Charlotte kept her end of the bargain. She hoped she would be strong enough to do that. She kept visualizing the moment when she would be reunited with her husband. That was her motivation to get through this. She had to remember that Peter was going through his own mental hell too.
That took her back to the humiliating photo session on the bed. Thomas had told her he intended to show the pictures to Peter! She shuddered at the thought. Had he already seen them? What had he said? She guessed he would have been in a rage, but surely his anger would be directed at Thomas. Peter wouldn’t blame Charlotte, would he? She just wished she hadn’t been told to smile. Thomas wanted Peter to think that she had enjoyed showing her body off. It was his ruse to drive a wedge between them. But Peter was more intelligent than that. Their marriage was built on trust–and right now, that was all they had.
She swallowed dryly and glanced up at the shower head. When was it due to come back on? Her throat was parched! She waited. There were no sounds coming from the basement. All she could hear was her own breathing. She wiggled her fingers and toes and tried counting her breaths.
After a few more minutes, she couldn’t take it anymore and she tilted her head forward and sucked tentatively on the feeding tube–it tasted like chocolate milk.
***
It had been a bad night. He had tried to control himself, but he had been unable to resist scrolling through his image collection. Pictures of her that he had downloaded from her social media pages. She had blocked him now, but he had still managed to hack into a couple of her accounts. Her about information said that she was in a relationship with Peter Blanchard. In a relationship! She had even uploaded a profile picture of them together! How could she? Blanchard looked like a fucking idiot with his dark, wavy hair, twinkling eyes and perfect smile as they pressed their cheeks together for a stupid selfie! She had even stuck a love heart emoji on it! How could that be real love?