Taken

I woke up with a groan of pain, my eyes slamming shut against the sharp sunlight that hit my eye through the old and broken blinds covering the window. I didn't dare try to fix or raise them, knowing they would only break further. They were on their last leg and it was becoming a struggle to move them without them breaking apart to open the molding window behind. It become necessary in the summer so it didn't feel like I was being cooked alive inside this cramped room that felt claustrophobic at times.

I used to come in here to hide for the first two decades of my life. For the last seven years, I had been trying to escape it and the life that chained me to it. Well, as much as I could. The only time I returned, was after work to catch some sleep.

My stomach rolled with the contents of last night's dinner. A liquid dinner that consisted of cheap booze that gave me a temporary escape from a life that I was too afraid to walk away from despite being a grown woman. A grown broke woman who could barely afford groceries after paying bills that never held my name. The ones listed were too busy getting high and burning through money that could be put to better use. Though, they wouldn't think of it as that.

That didn't stop me from trying though. The measly amount I had managed to gather wasn't enough. But, even if I managed to save enough money and muster up enough courage for it to outweigh the fear of old threats and physical consequences, I wouldn't have just been able to walk away from this hellhole and leave everything bad behind. The bad wouldn't be all that was left behind.

I wasn't willing to abandon the good.

I turned my head, pressing it into a cool part of my worn pillow to try to ease the throbbing pain I felt behind my eyes. I welcomed the cool autumn air that had my body shivering and goosebumps rising on my skin. It helped alleviate the urge to empty my stomach but had me pulling my blanket up to my chin in search of warmth. The room I called mine was a second thought that had been added to the main ranch-style house and had originally been a small office. It wasn't connected to the heat that the rest of the house enjoyed and my space heater had broken last winter.

I let out a sigh, finding solace in the knowledge that the furnace was located in the basement. At least he wasn't at risk of freezing to death.

The little comfort I had found was quickly shattered by the muted sound of clashing dishes. My eyes snapped open as my body grew rigid. Another hard bang from the other side of my shut door had me jerking upright. The old blanket that had been providing me with little warmth dropped to pool in my lap as red numbers glared back at me from the single nightstand in my room that I had found on the curb with a 'for free' sign years ago.

Shit.

I swallowed hard and pushed up off my bed which consisted of a twin mattress and box spring on the floor, and reached for my cracked phone that sat beside the digital clock. The headache and nausea weren't all that had me regretting drinking a little too much last night after getting off work. Accidentally sleeping in had me considering maybe it was time to go sober for a while. I had been having a few too many close calls these past few weeks with my unhealthy means of trying to cope with a miserable life growing into an increasingly reoccurring bad habit, but this was the first time I had slept through my alarm. Or forgot to set one.

I cursed under my breath as I shoved my almost dead phone into the pocket of the jeans I had passed out in. Not only did I forget about the alarm, but I had also forgotten to charge it.

Throwing on the first sweatshirt I could find on the floor, I rushed for the door before the sounds making their way through had more time to grow angrier. I shut the door behind me and made my way down the hallway silently, avoiding all the creeks in the floorboards that I had cataloged to memory. I peered into my parent's room which was cracked open to see it was empty. The door to the ensuite inside was shut and the water was running. Sadly, I couldn't tell who was inside and couldn't make a guess based on the sounds from down the hall that had gone silent just before I had stepped out. It made me wish I had panicked less and listened more.

I slowed as I rounded the corner that lead into the kitchen. Doing my usual sweep of the area to locate any threats, my eyes focused on the stained couch in the living room first. That's where I typically found one or both of my parents situated. Before I could shift them to the cluttered dining table that was littered with drug paraphernalia I wouldn't dare touch for fear they would think I was trying to steal from them, my head snapped to the side as a sharp sting struck my cheek before blooming into a lingering warmth I was familiar with.

My nails curled into my palms as I turned towards her, keeping my head lowered. Dragging my eyes from her red palm that I was sure stung as much as my cheek and yellowing nails, I peered up at her through my overgrown bangs. A part of me was relieved at the slap. Relieved that it wasn't Dad's. The sharp sting was welcomed compared to the numbing slam that his palm felt like.

Mom's lips were pulled down in her typical frown. It aged her more than the day-old smudged makeup and years of substance abuse already did. It hadn't done Dad any favors either, but his over-stretched smiles that helped him gain unsavory friends helped shave off a few years. Still, he also appeared older than their early forties ages. Them having me as high-school dropouts only meant I had to wait longer for them to die. Hopefully, the drugs would make up for it and give me an easy escape from their tyranny that had evolved as I grew to keep me under their thumb.

I was still wary about orchestrating another attempt after the last one had failed so horrifically. My scars throbbed at the memory of how it had ended. It had been four years and I still woke up from night terrors that had me second-guessing the thought of trying again.

Her hazelnut eyes that popped against her tanned skin and the dark circles that surrounded them narrowed on me. I found the venom they held unnerving. It always left me wondering what I had done to deserve it in the first place.

"You lazy girl!" She seethed through her teeth. "Do you have no shame?"

More than you.

I didn't dare say a word in response to her rhetorical questions. She was never looking for answers, only for ways to let out her temper. I was done giving them to her long ago.

Until drinking too much caused me to slip.

Her thin fingers dug into the soft flesh of my upper arm as she dragged me into the kitchen behind her. She let me go with a shove toward the sink that held a few dirty dishes.

"Look at this mess! Do you think it's going to clean itself?"

You seem to.

Her glare drilled into the side of my head, but I refused to raise my eyes to meet it. She let out a huffed breath at my silence and pulled out a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes. Putting one between her lips, she grabbed one of the multiple lighters scattered on the dining table and lit it. Dropping it back on the scratched wood surface, her nails raked over the track marks that littered her inner arms, scratching at them as she took a drag.

That must be why they're awake so early. They were running low.

My teeth ground together, knowing what that meant.

"Make me a drink and clean this shit up," she barked at me before making her way to the living room. Whatever was in that rolled cigarette, it already had the edge in her tone lightening. 

As she took her usual seat in front of the tv, I pulled out a jug of orange juice and grabbed an already open bottle of vodka to do as she demanded and made her a drink. Backing away after placing it on the coffee table in front of where she had moved to lie down, I returned to the kitchen and began to clean up everything I didn't get a chance to do the night before. Cleaning the dishes and wiping down the counters and table, by the time I moved on to sweeping the floor that would be filthy again when I returned from work, soft snores joined the sound of the tv. My shoulders relaxed a fraction.

Until familiar footsteps sounded down the hallway.

I turned just as Dad rounded the corner with a black duffle bag in hand and a frown on his face. His bloodshot eyes locked with mine before he made his way over and shoved it toward me. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and thrust it into my hand.

"Today's deliveries. Don't be late," he warned.

My fingers clutched the straps of the bag tightly as Dad turned and made his way to the front door, leaving me with the order to complete my part of the 'family business.' A part that they held over my head along with the rest of their threats. A part that they forced me into playing.

Deeming the kitchen clean enough, I took the bag back to my room and dropped it on the bed with a frustrated huff. I unzipped it to find what I knew I would. Packets of red powder. Some were in small baggies, others were wrapped and taped into bricks. All ready for distribution.

I wasn't sure what the drug I was expected to deliver to his clients was, nor did I care to. All I knew was that it would get me in trouble. I wanted to get the job done as quickly and easily as possible. Though, the time for the last delivery on the list the paper held told me I wasn't going to be done until late tonight.

Grabbing a change of clothes, I made my way to the bathroom in the hallway to take a quick shower and brush my teeth. Returning to my room changed and feeling slightly better than when I had woken up. I lifted my mattress and grabbed a handful of the granola bars that I kept hidden under it along with a roll of gaze before dropping it back into place. Shoving them in my pocket, I secured the duffle bag strap across my chest and grabbed my shoes off the floor where they lay discarded. Carrying them in my hand, I quietly made my way to the front door, stopping in the kitchen to grab the half-empty bottle of vodka before slipping out the door. Closing it firmly behind me, I slipped my feet into my shoes.

Taking the path overgrown with grass and weeds towards my bike that rested against the side of the house, my eyes scanned the empty land surrounding the house for watchful eyes. Finding none, I moved past the bike to the back of the house. Continuing to look over my shoulders, I located the stairs leading down to the basement and made my way past the overgrown shrubs that hid it. It wasn't paranoia that kept me on the lookout, it was knowing the consequences of being caught that did.

But that never stopped me. For too long.

Reaching the cracked concrete of the landing, I grabbed the stool that was haphazardly thrown in the corner and dragged it to the door. Righting it, I stepped onto it to reach the rusting light fixture over the metal door that was newer than anything else the house held. It was the only home improvement project I could ever remember taking place and it was a direct result of my failure. A means to make escape seem impossible.

Until I discovered where they hide the key. 

Or the spare at least.

The hiding spot lacked such creativity that I wanted to beat myself up over not finding it sooner. I did. Especially once I had opened the door after almost four years of being locked out.

The memory of the skin and bones my eyes had greeted months ago had my hands shaking.

Grabbing hold of the key tighter than necessary, I stepped down and unlocked the heavy metal door. Using a considerable amount of effort, I pushed it open to greet the one good thing that kept me coming back to this hellhole. The one thing I couldn't leave behind.

Sunlight made its way through to illuminate part of the pitch-black room. As I stepped inside, movement drew my attention.

Piercing blue eyes stared back at me through curtains of black hair. They were far too bright and clear for the horrors they had experienced.

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