Cream, Crime & Cupcakes

Prologue

Prologue

While a new cramp surges through my body, I try to remember how long I have been lying here. The blindfold blocks any sight of light. I could be here for hours as well as a day. Is it evening already, night? The spasms give me a sign that my bladder is playing up harder and harder. I do not want to give them the pleasure of peeing my pants. After a new cramp I realise that I can’t keep up that tough posture for long.

During yoga, I do this exercise where I put my hands behind my back. I then bend forward and stretch my hands upwards as far as I can. A great stretching exercise. Until I have to sit in this uncomfortable posture for hours, like now. Not bent forwards as far as usual. But still. It feels like my muscles have been protesting for hours.

I try another meditation exercise. When you do these exercises when you’re not in so much pain, they seem so easy. Now they appear not to be easy at all. It does help to distract me. Now I’m no longer obsessed by pain alone.

‘Back at it again Miranda’, I start a new attempt. I will away the pain from my shoulder muscles. First I move the pain to another part of my body, where I don’t feel it as much. Then I move it to a place outside of my body, as far as possible. It really takes all of my concentration. Just when I am fully focussed, a new cramp surges through my body. Goodbye concentration. And then there is the pain in my poor shoulder muscles. Two different kinds of pain ravaging my body, demand too much of my powers of concentration. I can’t succeed in willing away the pain because of that. It does distract me. The lingering panic is less of a bother to me now.

It is told that Sartre once said that hell is here on earth. If I remember correctly, he meant the hell created by people around him. To me the situation I’m in pretty much resembles a part of hell. I am, however, determined not to let it get to me. Even though my current situation looks hopeless.

Just my luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yesterday evening - or was it this evening? - I walked to my car. All of a sudden I’m grabbed from behind. And from that moment onward I do not remember anything, until I was awoken by some heavy moaning; which turned out to be me. A heavy headache and a mouth as dry as a bone are the first things I notice. After that I realise that I can’t see a thing. And to top it all off I find my hands are tied behind my back.

‘Ah, there she is again’, I hear a vicious voice saying: ‘Nothing will happen to you, if you voluntarily tell us where the key to the safe is.’

I really have no clue as to what the woman is talking about. I stammer confusedly: ’Which key to what safe?’ That question is rewarded with a blow to my head. So hard that my head starts spinning. Apparently there are two of them. At least I cannot imagine that that woman can strike that hard. In a panic I start to hyperventilate. I really don’t know.

Surprised I hear a well-known voice. In spite of the fact that his voice is hoarse, I recognise it immediately. ‘Leave her be’, his husky voice sounds from somewhere in the back of the room. Despite my awkward situation my heart starts beating wildly. It annoys me that a criminal has such an influence on me. I must resemble a stupid gangster lover. ‘The poor child really doesn’t know what you are talking about’, the familiar voice continues. ‘Then it will be high time for you to give us the information we want, or this missy has come to her final hour here on earth’, I hear her tell him.

I am still clueless when he tells her: ‘There was no need for you to bring Miranda here for that. I would have given you the keys to the safe anyway. Not that it will do you any good. Did you really think that they’re the only copy? It took me a while to understand how you did it. Of course I made several back-ups which I hid in different locations. But if that’s the way you want it. The key is in the second drawer of my desk in a secret compartment. The compartment has the following code.’

I hear him mention a couple of numbers. ‘The vault has its own code’, and he recites a new batch of numbers. The gag is put back into my mouth. Then I feel that someone is being chained to my handcuffs. The familiar man is now tied up behind me. I hear the woman say to him: ‘Let’s hope you haven’t been handing out all those back-ups too eagerly. You should know by now that we can find out to whom you did. Just like we found this missy before you had the chance to tell her all about this. We are now going to get the originals and will find out who got a back-up besides us. In the meantime, you’ll have to wait here until we return.’

I hear how the woman leaves the room. That last remark was a dumb one. As if I were able to get away from here. I still do not understand one iota of what is going on. Did the bad guys get in a row amongst themselves or is this a matter of rival gangs? And what do they want with me? Dejected, I try to make myself as comfortable as possible. I try to ignore the fact that, in spite of the pain, a twinge of delight surges through me every time I feel a pair of fingers caressing my hand.

How many hours ago did they bring me here? Judging from my bladder, quite a while. In spite of my filled bladder, I would die for a sip of water. All the while, my stomach grumbles like crazy. How long can one last without food or drink? I once heard that you can do without food for a long time, but your time is limited without something to drink.

My fantasy runs amok again. A frustrating habit of mine. What if they return in a couple of days? Or worse, not at all? Would my friends miss me? Would they be able to find me? I really don’t have a clue as to where we are. And what if we were stuck here for a couple of days? How could I get something to drink? A repelling thought crosses my mind. Should I have to collect my urine to have some moisture in a few days as well? With relief I remember that saving urine is impossible. Luckily I don’t have anything to put it in.

My best chance might be to escape. The cuffs are too tight, however, to move even a bit. On top of that, I am also tied to someone. To pull my legs through the cuffs will be impossible. That always looks really spectacular in the movies. Such an acrobatic act to get the cuffs in front of my body. I don’t think I am that lithe. It would only fail miserably.

In the meantime, I hope that my kidnappers return soon. To the great relief of my on-the-brink-of-bursting bladder I might be allowed to go to the toilet. My painful shoulder and arm muscles are begging for a different position. At the same time I also hope they stay away for a while. When they return it could mean that it will be my final hour.

The panic strikes immediately when I hear a door slamming in the distance. ‘Help, I don’t want to die yet!’ every fibre of my body screams. Then I feel a finger stroking mine soothingly. This sweet gesture causes my breathing to calm down.

My thoughts are on him again. I am surprised that he’s here too. What does he do here? Were the police right after all? Apparently they need him, but why did they kidnap me then? I have got more questions than answers. Probably he’s gagged just like me, because since those two have left, he hasn’t said a word.

Ever since I noticed that he was with me, I feel a lot better. It’s hard for me to acknowledge. He attracts me in an irresistible way. Even though he is a criminal.

They won’t kill us both, will they? The fact that I’m blindfolded, relieves me at first. So far I haven’t seen anyone. In the movies they blindfold someone when they don’t want to be recognised. They will probably not want to kill me. Right?

Thunderstruck I think that the man behind me seems to know her. He gave her a back-up of something, didn’t he? Doesn’t that make them (ex) partners in crime? Did they have a falling out of some sorts? Or are those two of a rival g**g? One that wants to take him for a ride? Is it their plan to kill him?

Apparently he knows who the woman is and is able to identify her. To her, he is a liability. An ice-cold shiver soars down my spine. He may be a criminal but I still find the idea that he will be dead soon a horrible one.

I’m getting gloomy about the situation I am in. My filled bladder, the blindfold and the cuffs do not help to see life from the sunny side. For years I have been nuts about self-help books. Often they have one or the other solution for the most awkward situations. What would such a self-help guru recommend in this situation?

Immediately the following thought shoots through my mind: ‘Remain in the here and now, for one suffers the most from the suffering that one fears and which never surfaces.’

That can be all too true right now. I do suffer from the fear that I will be killed by those two. If I survive, that fear has been in vain.

I have to make sure I do not think about what could happen. What do they say in all those books: ‘Use all of your senses to remain in the here and now. Feel, hear, smell, etcetera.’ Well, let’s do this then. There’s nothing better to do. Everything that distracts me from panicking, is a welcome bonus.

Of course, it goes haywire immediately. What do you feel? Yeah, right, my bladder damn it. Neat trick to concentrate on what I am feeling right now. My arms are almost being dislocated. My bladder puts pressure onto internal organs of which I didn’t even know they existed. On to the next sense.

Which sounds do you hear around you? The reassuring breathing of the man behind me slows down my up tempo breathing. This is going just fine, I gratifyingly think to myself. But then I hear a creak. Is there someone in the house? Are they coming for us now? Has my final hour come? The panic attacks start with full force again.

Then, I feel a comforting pinch in my hand. Or is it meant apologetic? Because slowly I feel my trousers wetting. A warm stream comes towards me from behind. It soaks my trousers. Instead of horror, I feel relief. Relief that I’m not the only one in need. Being wet already, I let go of my bladder muscles. I decide to skip the question ‘What do you smell now?’ for the time being.