Time had degraded the videotaped image of the cowering
woman.
A line skimmed down the center screen now peppered
with electronic snow, and a sallow haze paled the image’s
once vibrant colors.
As he’d made his movies over the last twelve years, he’d
expected them to last forever. He’d never realized excessive
viewing coupled with time would degrade the tapes
of his three actresses and their final performances. The
first tape wasn’t a great loss. He didn’t understand lighting,
costumes, or camera angles. He’d been rushed and
nervous. But as time passed, he’d gained experience and
confidence and by the last tape, he’d honed his moviemaking
talent.
Remote in hand, he leaned forward and directed his
attention to the most recent tape in his collection. He
tuned out the annoying technical distractions and focused
on the woman.
A pale satin slip, the shade of forget-
me- nots, skimmed her full breasts and slim body and pooled
over long legs tucked under her round bottom. A blond wig covered
chestnut hair and accentuated a pale face and listless brown eyes
underscored by smudged mascara.
Blue-black bruises darkened her cheeks. She stared sightlessly
toward the ceiling, cradling the hand he’d broken the last time she’d
resisted.
Off-screen a door opened and closed. Keys jangled. The woman
straightened and tried to stand, but a waist-
hugging chain forced her
to remain on her knees. ‘Hello?’
He’d never stepped in view of the camera lens. ‘Sorry I’m late. I
didn’t mean to be gone so long.’
The woman’s chest started to rise and fall in rapid, short breaths.
‘I thought you weren’t coming back.’
He’d been gone eighteen hours. ‘I couldn’t leave you forever.’
Over the last two weeks, he’d left her intermittently. Each time he
made his exit, he threatened never to return as he shut the door.
Then from a closed circuit television he watched as she begged him
not to leave and yanked at her tether. Then after three, five, or ten
hours, he’d return. Each time she wept, her expressive features
reflected relief, horror, and flickers of anger. Slowly he’d been breaking
her down, teaching her that her world revolved around him alone.