Queen of Blackmail

Challenging the couple's son, whatever his name was, hadn’t been a good idea. Natasha now lay bruised and aching on a cot in a dark, musty cellar. A metal chain was secured to one of her ankles, allowing her just enough room to reach a tiny bathroom with a sink, toilet, and small shower stall. She realized with sickening clarity that she was going to have to play along with these sickos who held her hostage, at least long enough to gain their trust so she could escape. What chilled her most of all was how normal and ordinary this family seemed. The couple could have been anyone’s grandparents—baking cookies for beloved grandchildren, reading them bedtime stories before tucking them in for the night. She hated to do it, but she appeared as compliant as possible. She didn’t want to raise suspicions, so she quit resisting. She asked the couple what their names were but was instructed to simply address them as ma’am and sir. She never learned the name of their equally twisted son, either. Her living quarters were in the basement, and she was only allowed upstairs when it was time to cook and clean. During the three or four trips upstairs she made each day, she was told there were cameras in all the rooms and that they followed her every move. The windows were nailed shut and made of plexiglass. The son didn’t seem to live there, but he visited nearly every day to see that things were “OK” and running smoothly. She knew Phillip would be sick with worry by now, yet she had no way to contact him. Her only hope of that was through escape. If she didn’t manage to get out, he would never know what became of her. From what Natasha was told, she would never be set free. All that would happen was that, when the man’s parents passed on, she would be turned over to him. She tried to console herself with the fact that, as they had been quick to point out, things could have been worse. She could have been forced into far more horrifying tasks than just cooking and cleaning. Natasha did her best to clean thoroughly to give herself more time upstairs, but if she took too long, the couple would nag her to hurry up. She cooked the dishes she already knew how to make, and the woman taught her some new recipes while her husband watched from the sidelines. She knew she could probably overpower the couple, but the problem was escaping the house before they attacked her with weapons or other objects. Even if it took only ten or fifteen minutes to get out, that would likely be enough time for their doting son to come running and corral her back into the basement. She realized she may have to literally kill the couple when their son wasn’t around. The couple spent most of their time relaxing at home, but from what she could gather, they also had medical appointments, ran errands, visited friends and family, and did things for fun. They spoke to her in English, but when they spoke to each other, it was in a language she couldn’t identify—some kind of Germanic language, but not German. She made multiple attempts to find out where she was, but was always told it didn’t matter. When cleaning the windows, she could see that she was in a rural area, though she had no idea how remote the house truly was. From some sides of the house, all she saw were woods, and she couldn’t tell how thick they were. On one side, she swore she saw other buildings peeking through the trees. Natasha didn’t even know what month it was, but she knew she should have been home by now. This became clear as weeks turned into months, and eventually the temperature dropped, and leaves fell, giving her a better view of her surroundings. To her surprise, a fair number of houses weren’t too far from the house. If she could only reach one—and hope no one there sided with the evil couple—she might have a chance. She racked her brain, trying to figure out how she could escape with the windows made of plexiglass and nailed shut. She couldn’t help but wonder what the couple would do in the event of a fire if they couldn’t reach any of the doors. Then one day, an answer came to her. She wished she had thought of the idea sooner, but she knew she still had to earn their trust so they would be relaxed around her and let their guard down. If they were constantly tense and watching her like hawks, as they had been in the first month, she probably wouldn’t have much of a chance to pull off what she had in mind.