In the corner, on a long chain was an ankle shackle. He sat Rebecca on the bed. She looked around and noticed that there weren't any windows on the walls. Scott had removed the windows and boarded the hole up. After his first victim had thrown a chair through the window, he decided that having a window in the room, just wasn't necessary.
Every year, Scott learned something new to improve the week long stay at the cabin with his captive. It was only a few years ago that he decided to use a chain shackle, one of victims learned somehow to wear the rope down and almost escaped. That would have been disastrous, at least on Scott’s end it would have.
After shackling Rebecca’s ankle to the metal ring that was welded and nailed into the floor, he went to take off the tape on her wrists that were bound behind her. But, before he did, he said, “If you scream, no one will hear you, we are on fifty acres of private property that I own, so there is no one around. If you try to fight me, you will only cause more problems for yourself and subject yourself to a beating. Don’t cry, it won’t help. Don’t tell me that you love me or try to coerce me into having some sort of feelings for you. It’s not possible. I am dead inside and I have no emotional feeling of love, compassion, empathy or any other emotion that indicates that I would somehow care for you.”
Scott then took off the duct tape of her wrists and mouth. “Why are you doing this to me Alan?” Rebecca asked in a faint voice.
“My name isn't Alan.” He said as he walked out of the room.