George Markham was smiling at the girl in his car. Her eye was already beginning to swell where he had punched her. It was her own fault for trying to fight him. Here he was trying his hardest to be friendly and nice and all she could do was sulk! He had driven to a piece of wasteground and now they were both watching each other warily.

Mandy was terrified. Since the man had stopped and asked directions, everything had gone wrong. She had walked to his car and the next thing she had known she was being dragged bodily into the car. She had kicked and screamed and no one had come to help her. She could feel a throbbing above her right eye, and it hurt her ribs every time she took a breath. As he had dragged her across his lap by her hair she had scraped her knees and thighs on the metal of the car. They had driven away fast and she had attempted to open the door and jump but he had held on to her hair, making it impossible. She would have landed under the wheels of the car.

Oh, please, please. Someone, anyone, help her!

George liked the look of her, he decided. The only thing he did not like was the orange lipstick. He hated orange lipstick. Mandy saw him scowl at her and her heart lurched. She inched her way round, her arm behind her back. She was going to open the car door and run for it. Run as hard as she could.

George read her mind.

Taking a length of rope from the glove compartment, he grabbed her hands.

Mandy began to fight, her long false nails flying dangerously close to his face. Sighing heavily, George punched her with all his might. He hit her on the cheekbone and heard the high cracking sound as it broke beneath his knuckles.

The girl slumped back on to the seat dazed, the red hot pain in her face making her quiet and subdued. The man was mad. Suddenly Mandy knew that with stunning clarity. If she didn’t play along he would kill her. Maybe he would kill her anyway. She lay back in the seat crying quietly. Wishing her dad was here. George tied her hands together as if she was going to say her prayers.

‘Please let me go.’ Her voice was low and surprisingly gentle and childlike.

George felt magnanimous, even happy at the humility of the request. She learnt fast, he would say that much for her. Rubbing his hands together, he leaned over her and took a carrier bag off the back seat. He pulled out the black leather mask he had purchased in the sex shop.