Chapter 6 in Rainstorm

  • June 29, 2022, 9:20 p.m.
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  • Public

Troy was getting increasingly worried about his wife. Ever since the attack last March, Rain hadn’t been the same. Her behavior was just, well, weird. Being depressed, anxious and withdrawn was one thing, but lately, he sensed her getting out of bed at night. He’d been too exhausted to get up and go to her but assumed she was probably watching TV or surfing the web, unable to sleep. She had nightmares after the attack. Then they simmered down only to flare back up again over the last few weeks.

He tried to get her to talk, but all she would say was that she was okay and was just preoccupied with work. He didn’t buy it for a minute, of course. Something was up. He was just surprised at the setback just when she was starting to regain her confidence. Even started running again, too. She simply changed to a safer route and never went out at night.

Troy would never forget the sinking sensation that had slammed into the pit of his stomach the day he got a phone call at work from the police, informing him that his wife was in the hospital.

He’d dropped everything without saying much to his coworkers on the way out and fled to the hospital as fast as he could without risking a ticket.

There he had been led to his sedated wife who then bore a scattering of bandages around her face. The doctor explained that she had been assaulted while out running through a patch of woods. No evidence of sexual abuse was apparent, though she’d received numerous cuts and bruises at the hands of her attacker and while trying to escape. A man walking his dog scared the attacker off and he’d notified the police on his cell phone right away. He hadn’t seen enough of the assailant through the trees and brush to give a helpful description. The guy was tall and thin and wore a red hoodie. That was all he could say for sure. He couldn’t even identify the man’s race or age but thought it was most likely a young white guy.

When Rain had come to, she was able to provide the two detectives present with a few more details, though it still wasn’t helpful.

Rain had her music playing on her phone at the time and earbuds jammed into her ears and never heard the guy approach her. All she remembered was that she was grabbed and shoved into some brush just a few feet from the trail. The two of them fought, Rain kicking and punching as hard as she could. The guy hadn’t pulled a weapon on her, and perhaps the only reason she wasn’t raped was that the scumbag couldn’t get it up and had limited time to try.

There were a few reports of other kidnappings and attempted rapes in the area, but no one had been apprehended as of yet. Since the attacks had stopped, it was speculated that the guy had either moved on to another location or was in custody for something else.

Once home from the hospital, Rain was understandably plagued with nightmares. She’d seen a therapist for a while, kept a journal as recommended, and was afraid to run alone. Eventually, she became determined not to let the creep win by allowing herself to be scared indoors and away from doing something she loved. So, she returned to running but agreed to stick to the main roads.

She had been slowly settling back into her usual routine with less fear and anxiety, but lately, she just wasn’t right. The therapist had said that setbacks could happen, and since Rain never showed signs of suicidal tendencies, he hadn’t been quick to press the matter. He didn’t want to push Rain in any way that may make her feel pressured. As long as she insisted she was okay, he would just have to accept that for now despite her insomnia lately. That was all he could do at the moment anyway.

Troy yawned and closed his eyes that night, determined to think of happier things, like the boatload of money they’d be sitting pretty with if things continued to go well at work.

Sometimes Rain felt as if she no longer lived. She simply existed instead. She existed to run, work and clean by day, and then to be a madwoman’s sex slave by night.

After two weeks of the “arrangement” she was forced to agree with to save herself and her husband, she learned to expect the unexpected from the whacko. Sometimes she masturbated to her in some kind of a slutty getup. Other times she made her perform sexual acts upon her own self as well as give and receive them from the crazed blackmailer.

Hiding her fear, anguish, and frustration from Troy was getting harder. She knew he knew something was up. But how did she tell him she’d been threatened into having sex every night with a crazy woman in their basement?

The only thing that had remained each time she met with the woman in the bowels of the house she was fast losing her fondness for, was that she failed to get any information out of her. Even if it had been lies, something would have been better than nothing, but nothing was all she’d gotten.

Every night she’d gone down into the basement hoping against hope that the woman would fail to appear. But each time she found her to be awaiting her like clockwork, and she began to lose hope that her ordeal would end anytime soon. Instead of getting “used” to their so-called routine, Rain only grew more fearful that the abuse might never end.

Then she remembered the Question & Answer site she’d been considering and decided to set up an account without using her real name. She then randomly asked people on the front page what they would do if they were writing a book about a character that had been blackmailed – just as she had – and if they would obey the commands in case the woman really did harm them, or instead dare to risk getting the police involved.

To her surprise, in less than an hour, five people said they’d do as they were told to do while eight said they’d go to the police. That much wasn’t a surprise.

After she felt she had accumulated enough opinions on the subject, she then went out for her run and returned to the house to shower, eat, and get to work.

Just as she was about to head upstairs to her office, she heard movement down below. Rain glanced at the clock. It was just after 10 a.m. Why would the psycho be down there now?

And then it hit her. What if it was someone else? Someone with even darker, more sinister intentions?

Rain shivered with fear and listened intently.

There it went again… that little scraping sound followed by a thump.

Her first instinct was to run and dial 911, but she couldn’t do that and convince the madwoman that she thought someone else might have broken in to prompt her to call, so she searched for a weapon instead.

Grabbing a knife from the butcher block, she slowly headed downstairs.

It was the madwoman herself. She stood there staring at her, hands on her hips, bearing a highly agitated and scornful look.

“What the hell are you doing here now?” Rain asked, too pissed to be scared. “It’s the middle of the fucking daytime!”

“I do the talking, Rain. You know that,” the psycho said, keeping her gaze steady and not taking her hands off her hips.

“No, I do! I live here. I say what happens here. I say who comes into this home! Now GET OUT OF HERE!”

Keeping the same expression intact, the woman removed her hands from her hips, stepped up to Rain, and slapped her across the face.

Rain grabbed her cheek. It stung with red-hot heat. Once again, the brave moment her rage had managed to work up, quickly retreated like a prairie dog into a hole in the ground. Now all that was left was a trembling, fearful person that felt utterly helpless. Of all the abuse and torment she’d taken so far from this woman, this was the first time she’d actually struck her.

She struck her again, causing a wave of dizziness to come over her and send her straight down to the concrete floor. She blinked a few times and gazed dumbly up at the woman.

She continued to eye her with that same look of scorn.

Holding her cheek in one hand, Rain rose on what felt like legs of rubber. “Get. Out. Of. Here,” she snarled.

Again the woman slugged her, but Rain was determined to remain on her feet. “If you hit me again, I’m going to hit back.”

The madwoman laughed.

Rain glared at her.

“Let’s play a game,” the crazy woman said, taking Rain by the wrist and guiding her over to the couch. “It’s called What Punishment Shall Rain Receive for Breaking the Rules?”

“What?” Rain said, blinking with shock. Was that what this surprise daytime visit was all about? “What rules have I broken?”

“Sit down,” the woman ordered.

Rain stepped back into the couch, lost her balance, and felt her butt crash down onto the old worn couch cushions. Despite her situation, she took a long enough moment to wonder how the hell anyone could sleep on the damn thing.

“What rules have you broken?” the woman mocked with raised eyebrows. “What, do you have a garbage disposal for a memory or something, girl?”

“I haven’t said a word to Troy. I think he may suspect something’s wrong, but whenever he’s asked if I’m okay, I always say I’m fine. I haven’t gone to the cops either, so what’s your problem?”

“Oh, I don’t have a problem, Rain. You do. You’re the one, after all, who opened your mouth online, aren’t you?”

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