As I opened my eyes, I found myself chained to a bed. This wouldn’t have been a bad thing if I had set up a BDSM date with a foxy lady, but that wasn’t the case. Well, my captor was a foxy lady, but we had never agreed to this arrangement, and worse yet, I feared that she was clinically insane. I was a prisoner of the female soccer player Sandra Thornton, whose boyfriend had died while trying to carry out a suicide bombing. Eric Barnes had struck because of his discontentment with Referee Marvin Lundgren’s calls on the soccer field, and I hoped that Sandra didn't have a similar motive. Ouch, what a predicament I was in. How had I ended up like this? I closed my eyes and thought back on the evening that preceded my captivity.

***

It had started with a gala celebration. The soccer association had organised a cocktail party to prove that players and referees could coexist in a social setting. While it was a dubious proposition, the free food and drinks sold me the idea.

As I arrived at the venue, Martin approached me and said. “Do you see that girl in the corner? She is single and you should try to hook up with her.”

I looked at the woman in the corner. She was hot. Not East Asian level hot, but still good enough for me to consider changing up my cuisine. Yet, I couldn’t get Martin’s grin out of my mind. If that rascal suggested that I would introduce myself to a specific woman, something was amiss.

“Who is she, and why should I speak to her?”  I asked.
“Her name is Sandra Thornton. I can guarantee you that she is single and ready to mingle.” Martin replied.
“How do you know this, and what is the catch?” I asked.
“Well, you know my cousin Marvin Lundgren who quit refereeing after almost falling victim to a suicide bomber?” Martin asked.
“Of course, I do. That is the reason the Football Association is organising this event.” I replied.
“Well, Sandra was the girlfriend of the deluded Eric Barnes who blew himself up. With an ex like that, you must be an upgrade.” Martin stated.
“Or maybe she is as crazy as he was, and I end up in a dungeon if I approach her,” I stated.
“That is a possible scenario, but as I said, she is single and ready to mingle,” Martin said and laughed.

I sighed and looked at Sandra. Now that Martin had told me she was on the market, she appeared a lot more attractive than I would have considered her otherwise. Yet I was not drunk and desperate enough to risk it, so I decided to walk over to Jasmine Xi instead.  Although she had tried to set me up with her gay housemate, she would hopefully be more interested now that she knew I was straight.

“Hi, Jasmine. It’s nice to see you here.” I said.
“Oh, Hi Geoffrey. I am so sorry to hear about your HIV infection. Who would have known that vaccines could be so dangerous?” Jasmine replied.

Damn, I should have used another white lie to reject Jasmine’s gay housemate James. Now that Jasmine believed that I had HIV, she would be even less inclined towards participating in naked yoga with me.

 “Uhm, I don’t have HIV,” I replied.
 “Oh. How did this happen? I didn’t know there was a cure.” Jasmine replied.
“So, I lied to Eric because I didn’t know how to reject him,” I replied.
“Oh no. This is so embarrassing. I started a crowd fundraising for the Victims of Vaccine Foundation. We have collected $10,000 for your medical bills. All the female players in the association have chipped in.” Jasmine revealed.

Ouch, this was awkward. While it was encouraging that female players liked me enough to collect money for me, it was a shame they had never shown their approval before. If I had known, I would have a smorgasbord of willing participants to one-on-one fitness sessions in my bedroom. But how would I handle the situation that had arisen? If I denied the HIV rumours, I would look like a fraud, and no one would like me anymore. If I confirmed the HIV rumours, I would walk away from the event sexless but $10,000 richer.

“Okay, now that I think about it, I did get some severe side effects from the vaccine,” I said.
“Oh, I see. Such as what?” Jasmine said sceptically.
“The vaccine made me partially blind.” I lied.
“Oh, that explains a lot,” Jasmine said and hugged me.

I hugged her back and I felt like I was in heaven for a few seconds.

“Hello, my fag hag, Let’s have some shots!”

The effeminate shrill voice of James shattered the harmony in the room and caused Jasmine to let go of her hug. As she rushed towards James, I considered accompanying them. I decided not to. I had spent a whole night with the two of them a few weeks earlier, and in the end, the only one who had tried to hook up with me was James. Yuck.

I grabbed a beer from the bar, and I set out to look for Martin. I would rather listen to his conspiracy theories than spending any more time around James. With a bit of luck, Martin would know about other eligible singles.

“Oh hi, you must be Geoffrey. You are my favourite referee.”

‘Not this scenario again,’ I thought. Why were people obsessing about my skill with the whistle when my real skills were in lawyering?  I turned to the voice and I spotted the face of Sandra Thornton.

“Hi Sandra,” I chirped and reflected on whether it seemed strange that I knew her name.
“I know your secret. You did not get HIV from your Covid vaccine.” Sandra whispered.

I sighed. I should have realised how my HIV cop out would backfire when I rejected James. But then again, how could I know that my health status would be a topic of conversation in the football community?

“Yes, you are correct. I don’t have HIV or any dangerous diseases.” I admitted.
“So, why would you say such a thing then?” Sandra asked.
“I felt frustrated. I had been trying to hook up with Jasmine Xi all night, and I found out that she had invited me to set me up with her gay housemate.” I explained.
“I see. Well, I can’t help you with your love problems, but I can help you with your sex life. How about heading to my place to have sex?” Sandra asked.

Wow, this was a tricky one. Going to Sandra’s place could be dangerous. After all, her boyfriend had died in a failed suicide bombing towards a soccer referee earlier the same year. Then again, could I judge Sandra for the actions of her late boyfriend? The answer to that question was a resounding ‘yes!’. However, by judging Sandra, I would pass up on sex, so I would be as forgiving as Jesus Fucking Christ, for now.

“I would love to visit your place. Tonight would be great.” I said and winked.
“Great. Can you book an Uber to my place? I lost my phone. It’s at 252 Bondi Road, Waverley.” Sandra said.

I complied and a short while later we were in an Uber on the way to Waverley for a night of passion.

***

“Here is a beer for you, I’ll freshen up in the toilet for a bit,” Sandra said, smiled, and handed me a beer.

As Sandra rushed off, I started drinking my beer. It tasted off, but I assumed it was because of the brand.  As I leaned back into the couch, I noticed a photograph of Sandra and her suicide bombing ex-boyfriend. They were both dressed in King’s Park jerseys, but there was another much more important detail. I was in the background of the photograph. ‘uh-huh,’ I thought and had a flashback. Three months earlier, I had been refereeing Sandra’s game and I had sent her off for her aggressive behaviour on the field. This picture was from that day. This was not good news.

I tried to leave, but it was to no avail, as my legs didn’t carry me. I collapsed to the floor and everything turned black.   

***

I found myself chained to the bed, and Sandra entered the room carrying a tablet.

“This shoddy call ruined my life,” Sandra exclaimed. I looked at the video on Sandra’s tablet. It was a blurry video showing how an opponent tripped Sandra near the centre circle of the field.

I looked at the video in confusion. There was nothing important happening in the video and I didn’t know why she had kidnapped me to show it.

“I don’t get it. You are getting tripped near the centre circle. This must happen at least ten times in each game.” I stated.
“The problem is that you never called the foul.  Your incompetence caused Eric’s death.” Sandra hissed.
“What? How on Earth are you reaching that absurd conclusion.” I exclaimed and bit my lip, realizing that raising my voice towards my insane captor wasn’t the best course of action.
“How can’t you see it? Because you never gave me that foul, I felt compelled to pull my opponent’s hair and kick as hard as I could. For some reason, you saw that foul, you bastard, and you sent me off.” Sandra hissed. 
“What does this have to do with Eric’s failed suicide bombing?” I asked in bewilderment.
“Because Eric saw how unfairly you treated me, and his mind filled with rage. Later the same day, he shoved Marvin Lundgren and got banned for a year. Getting banned from football drove my beloved Eric insane, and his death is your fault.” Sandra claimed.

Under normal circumstances, I would have laughed at the mental gymnastics Sandra had put herself through to blame me for her partner’s death. However, since I was chained to a bed in a madwoman’s house, I found it hard to connect with my usual, joyous self.

“Okay. You have proven your point. I should have given you that freekick and nothing of this would have happened. I am sorry.” I lied.

Sandra smiled at me with a psychotic smile and replied. “I am so happy that you told me this. A weight has been lifted off my chest.”

I exhaled. With a bit of luck, I would get out of this predicament unscathed.

“So, um, can you unchain me and let me go now that we have resolved this issue?” I asked.
“Why would I let you go? You admitted that Eric’s death was your fault. The corrupt law courts will let you go, so I must deal with you myself. You must die for causing Eric’s death.” Sandra proclaimed.

‘Fucking hell, I shouldn’t have admitted responsibility to placate the madwoman!’ I thought. “In that case, I no longer admit any wrongdoing. You and Eric were responsible for the fate that befell you.” I stated.
“Good attempt but it is too late. I already filmed your admission of guilt.” Sandra said and pointed towards a livestreaming camera.

‘Wow, so this is how I die. Being murdered by a madwoman during a live stream.’ I thought. I concluded that while this was a more novel way of dying than catching a sniffle and die at an old age, I’d rather do the latter.

I closed my eyes as the frantic Sandra approached me with a large knife.

*Clink*

I opened my eyes as I heard a glass bottle smashing against Sandra’s head, which knocked her unconscious. Jasmine Xi approached me and spoke: “Oh Geoffrey. I am so sorry. If I had known you were so desperate for affection, I would have slept with you. Why didn’t you ask?”
“Umm, how did you find me?” I asked.
“I found Sandra’s phone and it was live streaming from her apartment. At first, I thought you were a pervert, but then I realised that you were in danger, so I came to save you.” Jasmine said.

For a moment I felt like as if I were in heaven when looking into Jasmine’s eyes and realising the concern she had felt for me. The moment was over when police and paramedics stormed in and took me to the hospital for observation.

***

The next day, I was lying in bed and my head felt like I had been through a boxing fight with Myke Bison. I had a terrible headache from the combination of hangover and the drug Sandra had used to sedate me. Yet, I felt happier than I had felt for a long time. Jasmine had mentioned that she considered having sex with me and she had put herself in harm’s way to save me from Sandra, which proved that she cared for me. All in all, a good outcome, although I would rather not experience almost getting stabbed by the madwoman Sandra. My phone beeped with a text message that ruined my mood. “Hi, Geoffrey. I have realised that you are not the one for me. I like you, but I cannot be with a man whom I must save from a deranged lunatic’s house. / Jasmine.”

I put the phone away and I felt depressed. The silver lining to the previous night was gone and I was now merely a survivor and no longer a happy survivor.

Another text message appeared. “Ambulance callout fee: $450. Please pay within 14 days. /NSW Health Authority.”

Fuck! It was a shame that Sandra was such a failure at being a deluded murderer because someone needed to put me out of my misery.