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Mr. Wallace and Me (Part 6:)

By Robin O.

(The author welcomes comments at oberon_52@hotmail.com)

Mr. Drummond must have heard me. He was wearing what looked like an expensive suit, and his eyes got very wide when he saw Mr. Wallace's huge body covering me, my slender arms suspended by my wrists tied to the headboard. Whether it was the ordeal I had been through or the relief that I would be rescured or the shame I was feeling for Mr. Drummond seeing me like this, I couldn't stop crying.

"Help me," I sobbed. "Oh, Mr. Drummond, please ... help me."

Mr. Drummond tilted his head, trying to see Mr. Wallace's face.

"Ted?" he said. "Ted, are you OK?"

Meanwhile, I was getting hysterical, illogically pulling against the apron string holding my wrists above me.

"He's dead!" I screamed through my tears. "He's dead! He's dead! He's dead!"

...

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