"Stockholm Syndrome"

Posted by Nyx on November 12, 2003 at 01:47:47:

Here’s a nasty lil’ story about a SW who goes as crazy as her captor. Hope all of you like it. >=)

Stockholm Syndrome

By Nyx, 2003

Forty-eight lines, each representing one day, were etched deeply into the wall before me. Despite the heavy darkness of the refrigerator’s shadow, I could see each one perfectly, and I studied them hard for awhile. Forty-eight days. It was difficult to believe that I had been here that long.

Actually, it was even more amazing that I was still alive. No one else had survived past three days. Vanessa, the raven-haired woman whose incredible beauty I would have killed to have, almost made it to four before he cut her in two with a steak knife, just for the fun of it. There was little that a three inch person could do against someone who was normal sized, other than to run and hide. Vanessa had tried to do that, but he had caught her, like he had with everyone else. Well, except for me. He had never come after me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out why. Then again, the man was an enigma. After all, most people didn’t get off shrinking and then murdering others.

I still wasn’t sure how he did it--shrink people, that is. He didn’t have any sort of machine or potion. Just stared intensely at his victim (including, unfortunately, me) and suddenly the hapless person was the size of a small rodent. Perhaps it was a magical ability or mental power; I didn’t know. In fact, I knew almost nothing about my former coworker, who had decided one day to reduce me to a fraction of my original height, and then damn me to my own private hell.

And I had been here for forty-eight days.

God, it had been so long. The weeks had felt like years, like decades. Sometimes, much to my horror, it was hard to remember living anywhere but here, in an apartment that seemed like the size of a small town. No, more like an entire microcosm, a whole universe with its own terrifying and malevolent god. A bloodthirsty deity who required sacrifices like Vanessa, the woman who had been slain atop a cutting board altar. Nor would she be the last; tonight he had brought home a new victim.

I had been instantly able to tell that it was a woman by the lustful gleam in his steel-gray eyes. This was hardly surprising; usually, he immediately killed any male victims with the utmost brutality and disdain. It was only women that he kept and admired, until he grew bored and killed them. There was no pattern to his madness, either, just a randomness that defied all understanding.

Earlier that day, when he had come home with his newest prize in his cupped hands, I had hid underneath the sofa, watching with grim fascination. I hadn’t been able to help it. Something had drawn me out from my hiding place behind the refrigerator, and I had looked on as he had appraised his tiny victim. She had turned out to be a waitress, still dressed in her powder-blue work clothes, her bleached blonde hair a disheveled mess. The woman had howled like a wounded animal as he stroked her long legs, her ample chest. But I had quickly stopped watching her, for the giant himself had diverted my attention. He was quite handsome, his face…beautiful. That was the only word to describe it. But it was not his physical attractiveness that had allured me; it was the power that he gave off in almost tangible waves. When I had first arrived here, it had petrified me. Now it drew me to him, like a moth to a porch light.

It had been at that exact second, when I was staring at him, that he had looked straight at me. He hadn’t done it since he had shrunk me, and this time his gaze was even more unnerving. A smile had crossed his lips, and he closed his hand around the blonde. She let out a frightened yelp as his fingers formed a prison, but I hardly noticed. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his, and it remained that way until he headed for his bedroom and closed the door.

Now, several hours later, I hid behind the kitchen refrigerator, listening to the deafening hum of the appliance and wondering if the waitress was still alive. I strained my ears, listening for a wail from his victim, or a laugh from my captor himself. But I heard nothing, except for the loud humming. Still morbidly curious, I left my hiding place and crept across the floor, all the while terrified that the giant would wander in and spot me. I was lucky; nothing moved except for the lit hand on the clock far overhead.

The trip across the living room was a long journey, and I once more cursed my height. What I wouldn’t do to be normal sized again!

When I reached the door to the bedroom, I peered through the crack at the bottom. I could see nothing but blackness, no matter how hard I squinted. Frustrated, I decided to risk everything, and squirmed underneath the door. It took a great deal of pushing, but I managed to squeeze through until I was in an even darker room. Immediately I froze, hunkering down by the door. There was no movement (at least, none that I could see in the darkness) and I could clearly make out my captor’s rhythmic breathing.

Good, he was asleep.

Tilting my head back, I could make out, ironically, a porcelain bust of the Virgin Mary, the painted eyes seeming to faintly glow in the darkness, atop one of the nightstands. Next to the bust was a plastic cage. It was one of those small cages made for crickets or hermit crabs, but this one served a much more sinister purpose. If his newest captive was still alive, she would be in there.

It wasn’t that difficult climbing up the legs of the nightstand. I had done it many times before, and by now I was familiar with all the individual nicks and grooves. It took me several minutes to scale the nightstand, and every second I spent praying that he wouldn’t wake up. He didn’t, fortunately. My captor was in a deep slumber, his breathing slow and steady. One sinewy arm was thrown possessively over one of the pillows, his fingers digging deep into the soft material. I could easily imagine that pillow as a woman, his arm curled around her. Not just any woman either…

…but me…

I shivered and looked away, noticing the woman that gazed back at me from her plastic prison. At first, I thought it was my reflection, then realized it was the waitress. She was horribly shaken, her blonde hair a mess and her mascara running down her face to form strange patterns, but she was alive. When she saw me, she let out a high scream of relief and pounded on the clear walls of her cage until I signaled to her to stop, gesturing toward the immense form behind us for explanation. Frantically she nodded, keeping quiet as I searched for a way to free her.

I had never been in the cage myself, so I had no idea how to free someone from it. The only way that I could get the other woman out was by lifting up the lid on the top, but I was too tiny to do that. There was no way that I could help her escape…or was there? Directly underneath the carrying handle was an air hole, just big enough for a three inch human to fit through. I pulled out the makeshift kit that I always carried with me, in case I found myself in a sticky situation. In it, besides a sharp sliver of metal that served as a crude knife, my gun, and my badge, I had a piece of string, as thick as rope to me. I grabbed the string and slung it over my shoulder, then climbed up the antique brass lamp that towered over the cage, the waitress avidly watching me the whole time.

Once I was high enough, I jumped down onto the top of the cage, landing ungainly. The fall hurt like hell, and I lay there for a few seconds, wondering if I had broken anything. When I came to the conclusion that I hadn’t, I stood up and began tying one end of the string to the cage’s handle. After I slipped the rest of the string through the air hole, I called out to the woman below and told her to climb out. She just stared back at me incredulously, refusing to move until the colossal man beside us shifted slightly in his sleep. Then she shot up the rope like a thing possessed.

After that, she willingly followed me down the nightstand, under the door and back out into the kitchen. Only when she felt that we were a safe distance did she speak, her voice strangled with emotion.

“H-h-how di-did this happen?” The poor woman’s hands were trembling as she wrung them.

“I’m not sure,” I truthfully answered. Her eyes bulged out as she glanced about, still fidgeting.

“We…oh, Lord, we-we have to ge-get outta here…”

“I’ve already tried.” Alright, so that wasn’t the most reassuring thing to say.

“Bu-but there must b-b-be a way!” She began to sob hysterically. “Don’t let him get me again!”

“I won’t. I promise.”

I don’t know if she even heard what I said. The waitress has collapsed into a weeping wreck, her entire body twitching spasmodically. I felt sorry for her and bent down, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright. Just take a deep breath…”

“ ‘Alright’? How can it be alright? I’m three fucking inches tall, and some giant guy is after me!”

She did have a point there, but I didn’t tell her that, of course.

The waitress sniffled, looked at me through swollen eyes and noticed my tattered uniform for the first time.

“You-you’re a cop,” she observed.

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you do something?”

Fear, I’d come to realize, makes people extremely irrational. This was certainly the case of my fellow captive. I still tried to reason with her, though.

“Not much I can do. I tried to shoot him, but believe me, a gun this small is utterly useless. He’s clever, too; unplugs the phone and stuffs towels underneath the door to keep us from escaping.”

The woman began to cry harder. “Why did this have to happen to me?” She choked out from between sobs. “I never did anything to anyone!”

I didn’t know what to say, so I did the only thing I could do and asked the waitress her name.

“Shannon Meyer,” she managed, reaching up to her face and further smearing her makeup with a hand. She gazed up at me, waiting for me to say mine. I didn’t answer…because I couldn’t.

But the other woman didn’t notice. She was still crying, softly now, horrified at the knowledge that there was no way out.

***

“His name is Michael Stein,” Dennis announced as we headed toward the squad car.

“Who?” I wasn’t really paying any attention to him. The nice weather was too distracting, and I was having trouble concentrating on anything else. I stopped outside of the squad car, stretching my arms over my head and enjoying the warm sunshine.

“That new guy, the one that transferred here recently.” My partner, perhaps the oldest police officer in Greenwood, took off his sunglasses and rubbed the circles underneath his eyes wearily. “Just between you and me, I don’t trust him. There’s something…wrong with him.”

I said nothing as I slid into the car, still too caught up in my own thoughts to make much of Dennis’ remark. As I was closing the door, there was a flash of light and I found myself at the station, standing outside of the supply closet. The young man that my partner so distrusted was only a few feet away, staring at me with an unnatural intensity. I tried to look away, but couldn’t. His eyes , flashing in the bright fluorescent light, bored right through me, a wicked grin tugging at his mouth. When the world around me began to expand, growing to monstrous proportions, he began to laugh…wild, maniacal laughter that gradually became shriller and shriller, until it was a high-pitched shrieking…

Shannon’s screaming woke me up. I had been curled up on my side, and I rolled over to look at her. She was pressed up against one side of the mountainous refrigerator, her face florid from shrieking.

“He’s out there! He’s out--.” I clamped one hand over her mouth, silencing the frantic woman, and listened. Indeed, he was out there. The floor under us vibrated whenever he moved, which was often. Loud scraping noises came from the other side of the refrigerator, where our captor was. He sounded angry: his breathing was harsh, and occasionally he mumbled obscene phrases. At first, I couldn’t figure out why he would be so pissed. Then I remembered the trembling woman whose screeches I kept muffled with my hand.

That would explain his foul mood.

The tremors only increased as he crouched down near our hiding spot, his gigantic eyes scanning over everything. I suddenly recalled Vanessa, the knife cutting deep into her vital organs, her face contorted in nightmarish agony as her blood stained the wooden board underneath her. At that gruesome memory, sheer terror overwhelmed me, my blood freezing in my veins. But I didn’t move as the giant’s shadow fell over us. Shannon stopped her frenzied screaming, paling as he searched for his tiny captives. Seconds passed, each one excruciatingly slow, before he finally gave up and decided to hunt for us somewhere else.

I let out a sigh of relief, releasing my hold on Shannon. She sank down to the ground, still horrified at how close we had come to being caught. I, on the other hand, was still watching our captor. No matter how many times I saw him, I couldn’t help but feel amazed at his size, at the power that he exuded. Despite the fear that continued to course through me, I couldn’t help but feel attracted to him. It was odd, yes, but I couldn’t deny that it was he who was causing the warmth between my legs.

He grunted in frustration and headed toward the front door, evidently giving up on us for the moment. As the door slammed with a reverberating echo, I glanced over at my companion.

“Is he gone?” She asked in a small voice.

“For now, yes.”

“We have to get outta here before he comes back.” She said this almost pleadingly. I just shook my head, leaned against the humming refrigerator.

“There’s no way. I’ve tried, believe me.”

“What do we do then?” The waitress demanded, looking at me for guidance.

“Just stay here. He’ll probably bring another plaything home and forget about us.”

“Another what?” Shannon was obviously appalled. “How many people has he sh-sh-shr-,”

“Has he shrunk? I’m not sure. At least thirty or forty since I got here.”

Shannon blinked, stupefied. “Thirty or forty? But where are they?”

My silence answered her question.

“Oh, Christ! Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” She made a sound like a paralyzed mouse before a cat, a high bleat of terror. “I-I have to get out of here! Now!” Blindly she ran out across the kitchen floor, resembling a chicken with its head cut off. I took off after her, easily catching her by the shoulders.

“For the love of God, calm down! If you keep acting crazy, he’s bound to catch you,” I warned, then waited for her to calm down.

It took a considerable amount of time for that to happen.

I led her back to the refrigerator, where she finally gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep. I stood by her, trying to recall my nightmare now that we were in no immediate danger. I cared little for most of the dream, since the majority of it had just been memories that I had relived over and over. It was my captor’s name that interested me. For so long I had forgotten that he was a real man, not some deity that ruled over us with an awesome power. That fact was reassuring, but already it was fading again, just like my name, my identity…

***

I was right. He came home with a new toys, a man and a woman. The man he carried out to the kitchen. Dropping him into the garbage disposal, he flicked the power on and laughed as the gruesome grinding sounds filled the apartment

I was convinced that the woman, a middle-age brunette, was dead until she began to wail in response to his probing. Shannon was still asleep, her body twisted into a fetal position, so I crept out by myself. I looked on silently from the kitchen doorway as he gently set his shrunken captive down on the carpet. The bewildered woman stood up, gaped up at the man who sat on the chair before like God on His throne. At first, she did nothing, as still as a statue. Then she dashed across the floor, wildly zigzagging and occasionally stumbling. She made little progress before his foot came down on her.

I stared, fascinated, as he smirked and rolled his foot from side to side, dragging the howling woman with it. He did this for awhile, then lifted his foot again, revealing the petrified woman. Bruises speckled her body, but other than that she was unscathed. She didn’t move when he released her, just shivered and looked back at him with wide eyes.

His smile broadened, until the expression was one of feral bloodlust. Again, he set his foot down on top of her, this time over the lower half of her body. Grinning madly, he put some weight down on top of her, causing her to cry out. It took me a minute or two before I realized what he was doing. He was drinking up her fear as though it was expensive wine, reveling in the terror that he caused through his display of power.

The warmth between my legs increased, spreading to my stomach, up through my breasts. I watched, my face flushed, as he once more let her go, only to trap her for a third time. I could see her arms poking out from beneath his shoe, flailing and grabbing at the carpet. The warmth in my groin ignited into searing heat as her blood began to leak out from beneath her killer’s foot, her bones snapping and cracking in unison.

My hand crawled down my pants on its own volition, stopping to lightly feel my sex. He continued to grind her into the carpet, her body pulping into nothing. I groaned, overcome by this cruelty. The brunette whose body was ground into gory mush was no longer a person to me, but a mere symbol of his power…

“Christ!”

It took me a long time to respond. I spun around and saw Shannon, her face ashen. She had woken up and wandered out, only to stumble upon a scene of horrific death. Her eyes darted from the giant to me, who was gawking stupidly back. As soon as I saw the shocked expression on her face, realization hit me.

She knew what was really going through my head.

“Come on.” My fingers sank into her arm as I pulled her away.

“Don’t touch me!” She was breathing hard. “I saw the way you were looking at him!”

“Shannon…”

“Stay away from me,” she threatened, backing away. As I looked on, she sprinted not for the hiding place between the refrigerator, but for the lower cupboards. I should have stopped her, especially since that was where Vanessa had been hiding when he had found her.

But I didn’t.

***

By some miracle, our captor didn’t manage to find Shannon. I didn’t see her again myself until five days later, when I found her beneath the couch, her face as the color of flour and her eyes completely empty, dead. There was a haunted look to her, and she huddled with her arms wrapped around her legs, shivering a bit. Looking at me out of the corner of her eye, she said in a flat voice, “I just don’t understand.”

I didn’t say anything, just took a step closer. I assumed that she had seen something truly horrific, something that I had managed to avoid seeing, and I was right.

“He killed them. Just started reaching into the box and…”she didn’t finish her sentence. She blinked a few times, and stared directly at me, her face suddenly filled with raw hatred. “And the expression on his face…it was the same as the one I saw on your face when he was murdering that woman.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I protested, feeling a knot forming in my belly.

Shannon laughed, somewhat crazily. “No? Well, I think you do. That’s why he hasn‘t killed you yet.” She grinned madly, her eyes gleaming deep from within their sockets. “I think you two are exactly the same.”

***


No one ever visited the apartment. That was why I was completely surprised when, later that week, the front door opened to reveal a petite woman with short hair that was cardinal-red, her freckled face heart shaped. She put her keys down on the nearest table and waited.

It was, I quickly realized, his girlfriend.

The sound of the shower running was the only one that echoed through the apartment. I stayed in my hiding place, watching as the redhead grew bored and headed toward the kitchen. Humming quietly to herself, she rummaged through the cupboards, perhaps searching for something to eat.

That was when she spotted Shannon, perched on a box of Cheerios like a tiny mouse and waving her slender arms desperately.

His girlfriend’s screams were almost enough to make my eardrums burst.

The shower immediately shut off, and the bathroom door swung open. My captor, water dripping down his nude body, stepped out, his eyes on the frightened redhead.

“Th-th-th-th-there’s a ti-tiny person!” She stammered, pointing to the open cupboard with a trembling hand. Her boyfriend was silent, his expression unreadable.

Then he smiled.

“I know.”

Before she had a chance to say anything, he had taken several steps forward. I saw that peculiar expression, the one that I had first witnessed outside of the supply closet at the station, cross his angular face. The redhead whimpered, weakly reaching up to try to push him away. But it was too late. Her body shrank right before my eyes, getting smaller and smaller until she was my height.

She gaped up at him, completely confused.

“What did you do?” The woman sounded more puzzled than frightened, and it occurred to me that reality hadn’t set in yet.

He didn’t answer her question; instead, he merely smiled and moved a bit closer, his shadow engulfing her. Then, still grinning, he said, “You know, Heidi, I like you like this.”

The redhead blinked a few times.

Purposely he raised his foot over her, his smile cruel. “But I think I’d like you even better dead.”

That brought a scream to her lips. She darted out from underneath his foot, futilely running for her life. I thought that he would kill her then and there, but he didn’t. Rather, he glanced down and over at me, seemingly interested in my reaction to the whole thing.

Perhaps, I realized, perhaps stepping out from behind my hiding place hadn’t been the best idea. But there was little that I could do now that the mammoth eyes were focused directly on me. So I just stared back, waiting to see what he would do.

What he did was look back over at his girlfriend, who had taken the opportunity to escape. With a growl of frustration, he crouched down and began to hunt for her. But he had no luck; he had no idea where she had run off to.

But I did.

I easily slipped away from the giant, who was busy searching for his little girlfriend. Immediately, I went to the place where I had seen the redhead go: toward the living room door, where the towel that had normally been used to keep us from escaping had been pushed aside when she had entered. I spotted her right away, frenziedly trying to wiggle her way underneath the door. But bad luck had befallen her, for she was stuck, her tanned legs kicking.

I should have helped her. I should have pushed her legs, or perhaps distracted the giant long enough for her to squeeze through. .

But I didn’t. For the longest time, I simply stood by the door, watching her thrashing legs with disinterest. Then, without thinking about it, I reached into my makeshift kit and withdrew my crude knife. The sliver of metal glinted dully as I raised it over my head and brought it down, burying it deep into the woman’s calf. It sliced cleanly through muscle, stopping only when it hit bone.

Her high-pitched cry was strangely pleasing to my ears.

Blindly she lashed out at me, her attacker, with her good leg, her bright blood oozing out from around the knife. I couldn’t see her face, but I could imagine the look of rage and pain that must have been on it. That brought a dark smile to my face, and, yanking the knife free, I stood there grinning until I felt the tremors underfoot. I saw, with a quick glance over my shoulder, that my captor was coming.

He saw me, the tiny puddle of blood, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. Ignoring me, he opened the door slightly and bent down, scooping her up in one giant fist. As the door closed, I heard her pleading with him, but to no avail. There was not even a trace of mercy in him.

His hand closed completely around her, slowly crushing her tiny body. A sadistic smirk stretched across his face as her blood began to trickle out from beneath his clenched fingers. The woman’s wail abruptly stopped as a thick flood of mashed organs and pulped flesh poured out.

I could tell that he enjoyed her death immensely by the rapidly stiffening cock between his legs. Although she was dead, he gave her a final squeeze, his eyes lit with sexual pleasure. As globs of dark purple gore slid down his palm, the repulsive remnants of Heidi, he smirked.

It was at that moment that it occurred to me that I had just helped kill someone. But I felt no remorse. In fact, I felt…nothing. I looked down at the knife, noticing how hard it was to see my reflection because of the blood smeared across it.

The ground beneath me trembled, and I looked up as two titanic feet appeared on either side of me. Suddenly he was reaching for me, his hand filling most of my vision. He had picked me up only a few times, and I still wasn’t used to how warm his flesh was. Beneath the skin, I could feel the muscles contract--muscles that could easily crush my body, just as easily as they had killed his girlfriend.

I shivered despite the warmth that the huge hand was giving off.

Still holding me in his hand, he returned to the kitchen, where he washed the blood of his former girlfriend down the sink drain. Then, nonchalantly, he gazed down and me, addressing me in a thunderous voice that sent chills down my spine.

“Where’s the waitress?”

I couldn’t escape from his gaze. His eyes were hypnotizing, drawing me deep into him. I think I futilely resisted him, but there was no way to I could win. His will engulfed mine with the greatest of ease.

Within a span of three seconds, I felt myself transform, from savior to bystander, and then finally to betrayer. The change seemed abrupt, unexpected at first. But somewhere deep inside, I was aware that the change had been happening all along, since I had first arrived at this place.

"The cabinet," I shouted up to him, although I got the strange feeling that he could hear me perfectly. "She's in the cabinet."

His gray eyes, as cold and hard as diamonds, glittered with gleeful triumph. They shifted from me to Shannon, who was gaping at me with the pitiful expression of one who has been betrayed. I knew what was running through her mind, besides the paralyzing fear. How could I, the one who had rescued her earlier, stab her in the back?