The Abduction Day Six!
Our captured UNICEF worker reels in her bed of captivity and contemplates her minds dilemmas as she evaluates her relationship with her captor.
It seems that every morning I wake here in captivity, an overwhelming sense of amnesia washes over me, and I forget where I am and what has happened to me. It’s as if I’ve lost all feelings of time and place, and I’m unsure whether l am living in a dream or a nightmare. Here I am, naked and bound to a man who is my jailor and who has become my lover.
We made love six times yesterday, and it was the most intense and satisfying lovemaking of my life. I gave myself to him as I had never given myself to another. Today my body aches, but I feel full of the joy and afterglow that such sex brings. It’s almost as if I’m floating to heaven and looking at the world below.
I can’t decide on my future, though. It’s as if I’m in a happy limbo waiting for the world to grant me freedom. I don’t know whether negotiations are underway or how much money hangs on my freedom. Maybe armed men are readying themselves to descend from the sky and pluck me from my bed of indecency.
Imagine if they found me now naked and happy with every entrance to my body full of the DNA of my African stud. Would I tell them the truth, or would I allow them to presume my rape at the hands of my remorseless kidnappers? I daren’t tell them that I’ve enjoyed every second of it.
A strange anxiety welled up inside me with the realisation that yesterday’s lovemaking could never happen again when I got out. Here and now was the only place this relationship could exist. I was sure that I craved liberty but also was deeply drawn to this man who had alighted in me such pleasures I barely believed possible.
I went back to sleep and didn’t notice him leave. I never knew if every time he left the room, he was certain to return. The helplessness of my internal and physical situation swept an awful melancholy over me. For the first time since my capture, I began to cry. A lonesome anxious, needy cry that spoke of my attachment to my captor perhaps even my love for him.
The hours passed slowly, and still no sign of him. The blazing sun shone its summer rays through the open door of this godforsaken hovel, heating it like an oven. Without water or any other such sustenance, I sweltered and baked in a naked, sweaty mess. Now, this was torture, and I willed it to end soon.
The sun eventually moved from its torturous height to provide respite as a slightly cooling evening breeze prevailed through the shack. Something was underway; I could feel it. It was as if the evening breeze was blowing in a change in my circumstances as fear married with the hunger in my rumbling stomach, empty without food.
Anger visited my mind as I contemplated my situation. How could he abandon me like this after yesterday’s outpouring of love and passion? I felt used like a piece of meat discarded, left to rot and decay. Yesterday wasn’t love it was nothing more than animal attraction and my vulnerable predicament allowed me to mislay my usual sensibility.
The evening welcomed its accompanying friend, nighttime, as darkness descended upon the Ugandan countryside. Outside could be heard countless tiny noises as creatures great and small scurried along the great expanses. Nowhere could I hear human life was I to be left here to the lions? This fearful prospect addled my mind.
Eventually, I allowed my mind to calm as I allowed sleep to visit my weary shackled body. Sleep is the only time you are free in confinement as you dream of better days behind you and of those still to come. For a few weightless hours, I hoped to float off to somewhere far from this bare chamber and see family and friends again. See their faces, at least. Further, still I prayed for tomorrow to drag me from this desperate pit of despair.
