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The Wreckoning Chapter 2: It Begins
🕑 Added 2020-01-28 21:18:03 +0000 UTCAs I pull into the driveway of our humble yet elegant cottage style home I can already see the parcel waiting for me on the covered front step. I stop the car and stare at it. Some part of me was hoping this wasn’t real, that I had imagined everything that happened with Robyn or that she had just done it to rattle me. But there it was.
I let out a defeated sigh and hit the garage door opener.
The whole trip home I had wracked my brain on what I should do. I really ought to go to the police with this. Maybe if they did it right they could get her before the video was sent to Dylan. But then what? What kind of process would it entail? Would there be a court appearance? Would things be revealed there? I had no answers right now. As Dad would say, she had me by the balls. Whatever happened Dylan could NOT see that video no matter the cost.
The garage door rattles closed behind me as I turn the engine off and get out of the vehicle. The cold February wind blows in around my legs until the door clanks to a close. I stand in the garage a moment dreading to do what I knew I must.
Gathering my courage I head for the door leading into the house. Robyn was correct when she said we were getting help from Dylan’s parents. We owned this beautiful home outright, something that would have been impossible otherwise. Dylan’s stipend as a post-graduate student was a pittance and my downtown yoga studio was barely breaking even. While it was far from my foremost worry it hits me that, thanks to the pre-nup Dylan’s parents made me sign, a divorce would have a disastrous effect on my standard of living.
“Oh my god.” I mutter to myself as the full gravity of the situation sinks in. I was about to ask what I ever did to deserve this but I knew damn well what I did. I make my way to the front door and open it up. I am greeted by a blast of winter wind to the face.
I stare down at small box sitting on the welcome mat. It was wrapped in plain brown wrapping paper with a thin twine tied in a bow on top. There were not marking or address, obviously hand delivered by Robyn herself. I kind of wished we had one of those porch cams just to know for sure whether it was her or if she had someone else in on this. I knew one of the men on that tape with me was somehow involved but to what extent I had no clue. They were friends of mine, I had trouble believing any one of them would have anything against me. Not bad enough to give blackmail material to my greatest enemy anyway.
Another frigid gust snaps me out of my stupor. Still I stood there in my front doorway staring down. I didn’t want to touch it, as if this whole thing would only be made real once I took possession of the package. I shake my head. I was being silly. The sooner I opened it the sooner I would know what I was in for.
Picking up the parcel I close and lock the door behind me then carry it to the kitchen table. It was fairly light though I could feel a bit of weight at the bottom.
Setting it down I pause again. The package was just under a foot long and about four inches square on the sides. The crazy notion of Robyn sending me some sort of contact poison or explosive device strikes me before I shake it away. She wasn’t THAT nuts…I think.
Just then I get a text. Looking at my phone I see it is from my husband. He was in LAX waiting for his transfer to Christchurch. We exchange all the usual things, telling each other how much we love and miss each other, and I am reminded again what was at stake.
“I love you Dylan.” I message him. “Always and forever.”
“A love unconditional, always and forever.” He texts back. He was a hopeless sappy romantic and I loved him for it. A love unconditional, if only that were true. If only the world was as rosy as he believed it to be.
Setting the phone down and I untie the twine with renewed bravery. I carefully unwrap the paper to reveal the box beneath. It was as plain as the outside. Cutting the packing tape I take a deep breath pull back the cardboard flaps. There is white folded piece of paper on top with crumpled packing paper beneath it. I take the letter and open it.
The first thing that grabs my attention was calendar for the month of February at the bottom. Except for the first few days each day had in it a time and some sort of code. Tonight, the 4th, it said: 9 pm, D1-P, 10 minutes. What the hell did that mean? My eyes scan down the days. The entries were mostly similar though the amount of minutes got gradually longer. Near the end of the month things started to change a bit. February 26th for example said: 9 pm, D1-P, 1F-A, 30 minutes. On the last day of the month there were two times listed, 9 pm and 11pm, D1-P and D1-A respectively.
It was some sort of schedule but it was Greek to me. Looking back up to the top of the letter there is a Skype name, a phone number, and a short message which I read.
“Little Miss Perfect. Welcome to your wreckoning.” Stupid cow, didn’t she have spell check? I continue. “Here is your schedule and supplies for the month. Text me when you read this for further instructions. Yours truly, R.” My eyes flit down. “P.S.: The video is preset to be sent to your husband’s email each night at midnight unless I stop it from going out. If you disobey or contact the authorities or if I cannot reach my computer for a prolonged period any reason it will be sent automatically. See you soon.”
“Shit.” She had a killswitch. So much for the cops. Even if they got her they probably couldn’t stop the email. I look the letter over front and back then set it to the side. Grabbing the crumpled packing paper I pull it from the box then gawp, not quite believing what I am seeing.
In the box were 5 items: set of nail clippers, a nail file, a small bottle of water based lube, a folded black leather full head gimp mask with holes for the eyes, mouth, and nostrils and finally a tan colored silicone dildo! I could just make out “D1” written in sharpie on the flat base of the phallus.
“What the…fuuuuck?” I say. This had to be some sort of nightmare!
D1…D1…I look to the paper beside the box and part of the code clicks. This was D1.
“No. No, no, no, no, no!” I start to pace back and forth beside the kitchen table. What kind of sick perverted fuck was Robyn!? If she thinks I am going to do ANYTHING with this fucking toy at 9 pm she’s got another…thing… My pacing stops and my shoulders slump. I bury my face in my hands and groan. “Ohhh my God. How do I stop this?”
Another shuddering breath later and I stand upright. There was nothing to be done. She had me. She had me in a cage of my own making. I look back to the table and recall she said something about me being “must see TV”, I think I knew what the Skype name was for. She was going to watch. My skin crawled at the thought of it. At least she gave me the courtesy of a mask.
Straightening my shoulders I stand tall and proud. One year. A few minutes a night for her to get her sick jollies. I could do this. I would not let this twisted woman break me. Scooping up my phone I text the number provided.
“Got it.” I send.
