My Little Runaway

"As I walk along, I wonder

What went wrong with our love

A love that was so strong"

The rain was falling lightly, drizzling really, but enough to remind me of the old Del Shannon song. It seemed to fit, as tears began running down my cheeks, mixing with the raindrops.

I loved her. So much. She was my life, but now she's left me. Why?

"I wonder, I wo-wo-wo-wo-wonder why

Why, why, why, why, why

She ran away"

I gave her everything. Whatever she wanted, all she had to do was ask. We'd been together for over 15 years. 15 years of bliss, love and wonder. I thought we'd live happily ever after.

I first saw Sheila at the college, when I was fixing the air conditioning unit in the Science building. She was a freshman studying chemistry. At just 18, she was absolutely stunning. A brunette with natural red highlights in her hair, deep green eyes, and a smile that beamed across the room. Like every other man within view, I was gawking at her from my perch on the ladder. She glanced at me and her smile seemed to magnify. We had a real connection.

I closed up the ceiling and folded my ladder as the professor entered the classroom. I bumped the doorway as I left because I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Over the next few weeks, I ran into her many times around the campus. As one of the maintenance workers, I had access to every building in college. With each encounter, our connection grew. We were soulmates, meant for each other. I learned all about her, her class schedule, her social connections (Facebook is so helpful), and even spent a delightful afternoon in her apartment. Everything, just everything, convinced us that we were destined to be together.

"And as I still walk on, I think of

The things we've done together

While our hearts were young"

I thought about the day she stopped going to school and moved into my house. I had arranged everything to please her, even fetching things from her apartment to make her feel more at home. And she loved it.

She liked to play board games, and I would bring home new ones each Friday, to make the weekends more exciting. Over the years, I spent a fortune on those games, but it was worth it just to see her smile.

We'd play records on her phonograph and dance, almost every night. She loved dancing. She said it made her feel free. Sometimes, she'd ask if I would mind if she danced when I wasn't home. When I would ask if she wanted to dance with other men, she'd see the hurt in my eyes and apologize. She would tell me she only wanted to dance with me, and it was just that she missed me when I was gone.

I would have loved to have taken her out dancing, or to movies, or even just out to dinner, but she was house bound, so I had to bring the world to her. While she cooks most of our meals, I would order fancy dishes from the best restaurants and bring them home as surprises for her. She loved cioppino especially, but any shellfish dish was pleasing. She would squeal with delight as she opened the cartons on those dishes.

When she first came to live with me, I'd bring home rented DVD's for our entertainment, and to keep her abreast of the latest movies. Streaming has replaced all that and has allowed her to find her own movies and videos while I'm at work. It's made her life much easier, although I miss those evenings when she would sit quietly reading. The quiet contentment of those times still makes me smile. With the advent of streaming, it seemed like that damned TV was always on, invading our serene little home.

Of course, recalling our sex lives... she made all my dreams come true. A little sexual bombshell. My little bombshell. She had a kinky side; she was soooo into bondage, it was what turned her on. All of our activities had some aspect of BDSM. She loved my dominance, calling me "Master" and asking for my permission to do things. Sheila adored being tied up for our playtime. She absolutely refused to engage otherwise. I was always happy to oblige. Anything to make her happy.

But then I came home one day, to find a YouTube video playing on the TV. It was explaining how to disable locks using Hydrochloric Acid. It occurred to me that's basically what I used for the pool. As I turned around, I didn't even have time to recognize the lamp before it slammed into my skull.

As I came to, she was tying me up with an extension cord. She was muttering, "Fifteen fucking years, you asshole." When she saw my eyes were open, she screamed, "You asshole. I hate you!" Then she kicked me in the crotch and ran out the front door.

For someone who was so into bondage, she couldn't tie a decent knot. I was able to free myself, then I exited out of the back door. I was limping down the alley as the night was lit up with flashing blue and red lights reflecting off the raindrops.

"I'm a-walking in the rain

Tears are falling and I feel the pain

Wishing you were here by me

To end this misery"

My little runaway. I'll miss her.

[*]

Sheila cried as she was enveloped by her parents. She hardly recognized them after 15 years of grief and uncertainty. Her mother, especially, looked at least 30 years older.

"I was coming home after the study group, when he grabbed me from behind. He put something over my mouth and I passed out. When I awoke, I was chained to a large metal staple cemented into the basement floor." Her mother gasped, a look of horror on her face. All her fears were being realized.

"He never let me out of that cellar. Sometimes, he'd unchain me and make me dance with him, but he always would shackle me again. He kept telling me how much he loved me and that it hurt him to have to punish me when I tried to escape.

"I stopped trying when he had me watch Roots. When they hacked off Toby's toes, he just looked at me and said that he bet that would stop him from trying to run away." She shivered. "I stopped fighting him after that."

Her mother gathered her in her arms. "Did he, ah..." She looked at her husband, pleadingly.

Her father asked, "Did he, interfere with you, honey?"

Sheila broke down, sobbing heavily for several minutes while her parents tried to comfort her. Finally, she nodded. "I always fought him when he tried to touch me, but then he started drugging me. I'd wake up tied down. He'd smile at me and tell me how he knew how much I liked that." She looked frantically at her father. "Daddy, I didn't! I didn't like it!"

She explained her escape. "It took over a year, Daddy. I had seen a Youtube video about defeating locks with Nitric or Hydrochloric Acid. I knew where he kept the pool acid and hoped it was the right kind. I used an eyedropper to put a drop into the lock every day, sometimes several times, hoping to destroy the brass pieces the video said were in the lock. I almost gave up, when the lock finally broke.

"Then I put the video on the TV to distract him and hit him with that lamp. I had to stop myself from smashing his skull in. I didn't want to kill him, Mommy. It wouldn't have been right." She shook her head as she explained. "No, I wanted him locked up, chained up for years and years. I hope he gets a cellmate that believes he likes bondage."

Her parents exchanged worried looks as their daughter began to giggle manically for several minutes.

The world had become a difficult place for Sheila. The people, the traffic, the constant city noises drove her indoors for the first year of her freedom. Her life had been completely derailed. She was now shy around strangers and even old friends; her social skills completely stagnated. Her education was long forgotten, and she felt unready for any type of employment. Her life was a cloud of despair.

Little steps help. Her parents would take her to church services, and people there were kind. Her best friend from childhood was patient with her, willing to sit in silence for hours when visiting. She felt disconnected with life, but her mother dedicated herself to bringing her daughter back to the life that had been stolen.

On-line classes help her revitalize her education, although she was no longer interested in the Chemistry major she had originally declared. Now her parents encouraged her to take any classes that she found interesting.

Psychology became her primary interest, and she began exploring aspects of her experience she hadn't been able to consider for the last decade and a half.

The letter came on the first day she felt strong enough to venture out of the house on her own. She was just going to walk to the store for a loaf of bread, but she relished the ability to just walk down the street. It was a small accomplishment, but one of which she was proud.

She came home with a smile on her face. She believed she was finally finding herself again.

She noticed the mail on the floor when she opened the door. On top was a letter addressed to her. It had no return address.

She opened it to find her mind back in the basement, chained again.

"Hey, sweetheart. Do you miss me yet? I miss you so much and hope to see you soon."