THE VOICE

The Voice

By Sciobhan Benstead

Confusion.

Maze woke to a myriad of her senses reeling. Slowly, her thoughts came to her and she

remembered… What was it she remembered? She recalled needing bread. She was on her

way home and then… Nothing. Now, acutely aware of a pounding headache, she tried to

move her hands to cradle her skull and realised that her hands were bound behind her back.

She felt like throwing up. Why couldn’t she see anything? Something was covering her face,

she felt like she was suffocating under the rough material.

Noises. There were noises. A door… and footsteps? Maze was having trouble filling her lungs

and then the panic overwhelmed her. ‘What the hell is going on? Where am I?’, she thought

desperately. Just as she started to feel as though she was going to scream, there was a voice.

A deep and commanding voice with an accent she thought she recognised. ‘Where is it?’, the

Voice demanded. Still not fully comprehending the situation, Maze did not answer. Suddenly,

there was another strange noise and a feeling of pressure on her neck. Then… nothing again.

Mazed regained consciousness, unsure of how much time had passed. The Voice asked again,

more forcefully this time, ‘Where is it?’. With a headache far more severe than before, she

groggily replied, ‘What? Where is what? I… I don’t understand’. Her voice cracked with fear

as she tried to speak. She heard the Voice move a chair and felt rough hands close around her

throat. Maze could not breathe or speak as she desperately tried to turn away from her

attacker. ‘Does a pretty girl like you want to die?’, the Voice asked cruelly. The Voice

questioned again, louder and angrier this time, ‘Where the fuck is it? Tell me now or we are

going to have a problem’. Maze answered truthfully that she honestly did not know what the

Voice was talking about. The Voice sneered, ‘You play stupid, pretty girl. That is not smart’.

Suddenly, a foul smell filled Maze’s nostrils and she could feel hot breath on her cheek as the

Voice whispered in her ear, ‘We will have much fun with you, yes?’. Tears streamed down her

face and terror continued to fill her. Maze whimpered in fear. ‘Shut up, pretty girl or you

won’t like what happens next. Where the fuck is it? Tell me while you can!’, the Voice insisted.

Maze shuddered as the Voice moved even closer, running a hand up her leg, ‘The choice is

yours, we have many uses for you if you do not give us what we want’. Then before Maze

could react, her head was violently jerked backwards as the Voice grabbed her hair, yelling

now. ‘Where the fuck is my book? The little black one? You will tell me!’.

Maze choked on her tears, sobbing loudly. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’, she cried out

desperately. The Voice screamed again, ‘You lie, you stupid girl!’. Sharp pain ripped through

Maze’s skull as her head was jolted back once again. Her head, it hurt so badly. She weakly

pleaded with her attacker to stop, to let her go. That they had the wrong person… She was

just Maze. The Voice said nothing. Then, a chair scraped back along the floor and the Voice’s

heavy footsteps receded into the distance. Maze sat, slumped in her chair, sobbing in fear,

disbelief and confusion. Terrified of the Voice returning. She gingerly tested the binding on her wrists and found that they were impossibly tight. Each leg was also bound tightly to the

chair. There was no escape.

Maze heard the door open again. A hand gently wrapped around her throat as the Voice

whispered calmly in her ear, ordering her to close her eyes. ‘If you open them, I will cut your

throat, pretty girl’, the Voice whispered. Maze did as she was instructed and whatever was

covering her face was removed. She kept her eyes closed as instructed and a tight blindfold

was quickly tied around her head. Rough fingers grabbed her face, forcing her mouth open.

‘Take these’, the Voice demanded, shoving what felt like tablets into her mouth. A cup was

placed against her dry lips and Maze involuntarily took a mouthful, only to realise the liquid

was vodka. Maze coughed and gagged as the Voice laughed cruelly at her and exclaimed, ‘You

are weak, pretty girl. Pathetic’. The Voice ran a hand across her face and said, ‘Stay quiet now,

or you will regret it’. She heard their heavy footsteps withdraw from the room once more.

Sometime later, the Voice returned and ordered her to sit up. Maze realised that she was

slumped in her chair and she must have dozed off somehow. A familiar smell wafted through

the room… Pizza! Suddenly ravenous, Maze’s mouth began to water. The Voice told her

forcefully that if she tried anything stupid, it would be the last thing she ever did. Maze

nodded and her bindings began to loosen, freeing her hands. ‘When I leave the room, you can

take off your blindfold and eat’, the Voice commanded. Once she was alone, Maze lifted the

blindfold and saw that she was in a dark concrete room. Maze quickly ate the pizza and

dreaded the moment that the Voice would return. Looking around the room, she noticed a

small table set apart from her chair. On the table was a nondescript notebook and a ballpoint

pen. A disturbing but practical thought crossed Maze’s exhausted mind and she desperately

reached over to the table. Inching her way toward it, as far as her bound legs would allow,

she only just managed to close her hand around the pen. Relieved, Maze hid the pen

underneath her leg. Trembling, she sat back in her chair, composed herself and called out to

her attacker. Maze had a plan.

The door opened and Maze quickly informed the Voice that she had finished eating and that

her eyes were closed. Satisfied, the Voice approached her. Her heart was pounding so loudly,

she thought that the Voice must surely be able to hear it and know what she was about to

do. The blindfold was pulled back over her eyes and the Voice instructed her to lean forward

so he could tie her wrists. Knowing that it was now or never, Maze pulled the pen from underneath her leg and, using all the strength she had, struck blindly toward the Voice.

Sickeningly, she felt the pen make contact and pierce soft flesh. Without hesitation, she pulled

the pen out and struck again and again. The Voice had no time to react to her frenzied assault.

Warm, sticky liquid poured down her hand as her attackerscreamed out in pain. She hurriedly

removed the blindfold, just as the Voice thudded to the floor. Before her was a large man

lying on the concrete. He was holding his neck as blood poured from his wounds. He looked

at Maze in shock, frantically trying to stem the bleeding. She leaned forward and somehow

managed to free her legs from the rope that bound them. She stood up and stumbled forward

towards the door as the Voice called out weakly behind her, ‘Pretty lady, help me. You will

never get out’. Maze began to quietly sob.

Cautiously opening the door, Maze peered out and was met with complete darkness. She

stepped out of the room, feeling carefully along the wall. More concrete. She had no idea

where she was. Taking one step after another into the darkness, she felt for an escape.

Suddenly, there was a piercing noise, a bang! Maze was gripped with fear as she began to

hear shuffling footsteps. The Voice called out to her once more, his voice strained, ‘Pretty…

lady. Come here. You will not get out’. Maze lurched onwards, moving more quickly now, her

hands running against the cold walls. Her hand suddenly fell into a gap in the wall. Was this a door? Yes! There was a handle. Maze turned the handle frantically, but it didn’t move. Panic

began to overwhelm her. She cried out in frustration and threw her hands against the door

when she felt something else… Was it a bolt? Carefully, she slid the bolt aside. Maze stepped

outside, slamming the door shut behind her.

Cold. So very cold. Maze’s shaking intensified, her teeth chattering with fear and the chill of

the air. She was still wearing the t-shirt and skirt that she wore when she went to get bread.

Maze looked around, trying to get her bearings. It was night and she was alone, surrounded

by nothing but trees. The moon shone brightly in the sky, its familiar face comforting against

the unknown. Maze knew she could not stay here. She began to stumble through the trees.

In the distance, she thought she could see something illuminated. Was it real? As she got

closer, she realised she could see a sign in the distance. She began to move quicker, more

fervently towards the light. Breaking through the tree line, Maze could suddenly make out

buildings. Gasping in relief, Maze ran to the closest building and pounded on the door. The

door opened and light flooded out into the night.

Questions. So many questions. Maze had been in the hospital for over a week now. The police

visited her each day. They were particularly interested the location that Maze had been held

captive in. Recovering in a secure room, Maze did her best to answer them, but she knew she

was of little help to their investigation. Closing her eyes, she laid back against her pillow and

tried to block out the nightmares that had been visiting her each time she slept. She was safe,

but she knew that she would never know the feeling of true safety ever again.

Years have passed. Maze could no longer live alone in her apartment due to the constant,

paralyzing fear of being taken again. She had moved back in with her family, all her

possessions in boxes and stored in her parent’s basement. Once day, while decluttering, she

came across a lockbox that had belonged to an ex-boyfriend she once had. His name was

Dimitri and she lived with him once, before he broke her heart and left her. She never saw or

heard from him again. The lock on it was old and sturdy but… familiar. She realised that the

imprint of the lock matched a pendant Dimitri had given her many years ago, before he left.

Placing the pendant in the lock, it clicked open and Maze tentatively opened the lid. Inside

was a folded piece of paper. Opening it, written in Dimitri’s handwriting were the words, ‘I

am sorry, Maze. I loved you with all my heart. I am forever yours’. Reaching inside the box, Maze pulled out a small book, threadbare and black. She opened it and saw names listed

down the pages, along with places and amounts of money. Then another list, with names

crossed off. The information made no sense to her at all. Suddenly, she was struck by the

realization that this must have been what the Voice wanted all along. Her legs buckled

beneath her as the memory and fear of that time rushed back to her. With shaking hands, she

dialed the number the police office had given her years ago.

She explained to the police officer what she had found in Dimitri’s lockbox, believing it to be

too much of a coincidence. The officer agreed to collect the book to examine it for evidence.

Hanging up the phone, Maze picked up the book again and looked through it once more.

Reaching the back cover of the book, Maze noticed a small pocket. Slipping her fingers under

the opening, she pulls out a small, white envelope with her name on it. Inside was a single

piece of folded paper, a cheque for $20,000, made out to cash.

The end.