'Stock-Home' Syndrome

She was walking down the alley, having wrapped up her morning shift at the Deli. Abusive customers, juvenile delinquents, sleazy tramps- all of them were frequent visitors to her downtown convenience store. Today had been a particularly rough day for her. Having been insensitively insulted by her boss, she was just beginning to start out her day when 3 boys in their late teens came to the store and fled, taking with them goods worth 37 Pounds 74. The business-lady 'Treasure' was not kind to her as well. Hurling very vivid abuses, Treasure did not leave anything to imagination for the on-lookers on the street.

Recounting all the happenings of the day, she unintentionally took the wrong turn, only to be confronted by a dead end. Putting aside the horrid experiences of the morn, she turned around to get back on the right track, when suddenly she was grabbed by her hands and made to bend over by the force of a Beretta. Shocked, she could not see who her captor was. 'Move', the captor said. If anything she knew, it was that her captor was a woman, not more than her age and definitely very strong. Without a word, they started moving down the oft frequented main avenue, and much to her surprise, there was no one on the roads. They walked down a familiar path, and before she could figure out the happenings, they were at her apartment. Her captor must have surely known everything about her. 'Who is she? What does she want?', she thought.

'Sit! And don't try to act smart.', the captor bellowed. 'What have I done to you? Who are you?', she mumbled. She had seen this face before. Was it at the Deli? Was it at the church? She'd been a good Catholic, except for last Sunday's mass when she had peed in the holy premises. 'How can you not remember what you've done to me? Don't you remember who I am? You brought misery into my life. I used to be a free soul. A happy person, but you! You ruined it all for me!'. She was nonplussed. She had never spoken to this woman before because she remembered people well. She was someone from her past, but who exactly was she?! 'I need something... Get me a Scotch and Soda!'. She complied, remembering how she enjoyed the poison with Eric, her husband of 13 years who left her for a 'younger, more attractive' woman. She moved to the other room. Suddenly, she remembered. She had a mobile. She called the cops. 'Please stay on the line. Our operators will be with you shortly. Thank you for calling County Police'. 'You thought you'd get away with this?!' *thud* That's the last she remembered.

She opened her bruised eyes, heavily. 'You really don't remember anything, do you? Okay, lemme remind you what you've done Emma!'. Emma? That's what her Aunt Hilda used to call her. Only her friends knew that! 'You have made me a terrible woman. You took away my husband from me. My child died at a tender age because of you. You have been a reckless bitch! How can you not remember anything?' Blank. She stared out of the window, trying to remember her own son, whom she'd lost due to adenocarcenoma. The captor had tied her to the bed, and went on narrating her story. Eight pegs down, and almost 3 hours later, the captor could not hold more. She passed out. Panic eased, she had some time. She needed to do something. Of all the things she'd learned, keeping a Swiss knife under her pillow topped the list. She slowly cut her way through the ropes, slashing her palm in the process. Free! She needed to run, get help. She was about to hit her captor with the lamp, when suddenly she realised who she was! It all came flooding back to her. She could not believe her eyes. It was the same familiar face- the high cheekbones, a mole on the lower lip. She was just as beautiful as she'd seen her last. With all her energy, she put her captor on the sofa. Sitting beside her, she could not but feel disgusted at herself for all the pains the woman had gone through. She knew that she was solely responsible for the circumstances. If only there was a way to be good again...

She was making her favourite supper. A 2001 bottle of sparkling water was by the bedside, just in case the 'captor' demanded some. She knew what she'd have to do. Apologise to the lady. Beg her for forgiveness. Of course she would understand her own misery. They both had similar lives, and similar griefs. *Tring Tring* 'Hello?'. 'Evening Ma'am, I am calling from the County Police. I am officer Sheffield. We got a call from your number a few hours ago. Sorry for the delay, but we've been very busy today with the Premier's visit this afternoon. How can I help you?'. 'Oh! Well.. that was.. nothing actually. I had a li'l bit of an issue, which got sorted on it's own...'. 'Sure, Ma'am? I can come up if you want...'. 'That won't be necessary officer. Thanks anyway. Good evening.'

Hanging up, she looked at the captor again. Ironically, the captor had been kept captive by the unforgiving life for many years now. She smiled. She knew what was in store for her. She had developed a strong bond with the woman in bed. Emma's heart went out to her. As she walked towards the bed, Emma sat down and slowly whispered into the lady's ears,'I know who you are, Emma. I always knew it was you. I told them I could talk to you whenever I wanted to, and they! They called me Schizophrenic!'

She laughed.