1.
Pitch black.
It is dark...
Why is everything so dark?
I feel a phantom crawling on my face. As I reach to scratch it off, I realize I am restrained. Tugging harder at my wrists, I realize I am in chains. Chains? I start to hyperventilate as I realize it’s dark, and I have no recollection of what led me to this point. In the distance, I heard water droplets, from what could be a faulty pipe hitting the floor. I brought myself to stand and try to navigate through the dark and enclosed space but I am reminded of the chains that restrict me from walking any further. Fear begins to creep up on me.
“ HELP! ” I shout. “ Help me please! I’m down here! Somebody help me please! ”
Nothing.
I scream and shout as I try to jingle my chains for somebody--anybody’s attention but my cries run dry. As I slump to the floor, I close my eyes and try to think of any memory from before this event. When that fails, I’m left counting the droplets of the water hitting the ground.
Fifty-four, fifty-five…
Eight hundred twenty-seven…
One thousand sixteen...
Suddenly I’m jolted out of my thoughts when I hear keys jingling from a distance. I whip my head towards the direction of the noise and see what appears to be a door open. The bright light from the other side of the room blinds me and I wince. When I open my eyes, it is dark again but I know I am not alone. I sense a presence in the same room with me. Suddenly the light is turned on by the figure. It’s a dim light, so my eyes quickly adjust to my surroundings.
Looking around, I see that I’m in some type of basement with grey-colored stone walls, a cement floor, and various pipes running across the ceiling above me. My guess was correct as there was a pipe at the far end leaking, allowing water to fall and collect inside a wooden bucket. The single bulbed light flickers every so often as my eyes continue to scan the room. Underneath the light bulb was a metal table, the kind that you would see in those horror films when the serial killer is about to cut open their victim.
Upon further inspection, I noticed the walls held a board equipped with various tools and weapons. Continuing to inspect the cold room, a metallic, slightly rotting scent hits my nose. It was almost as if there was a dead body lying around somewhere that had been bled out. I rather not find out.
Despite the dim light, my attention was now focused on the tall figure in front of me. As they stood under the light, I was still able to get a good view of the person who could be my kidnapper or my savior.
A man. He was tall--taller than my 5’9" figure. Broad shoulders, and well built, as if he frequently works out. The gray t-shirt hugged his body, revealing his tight muscles, along with black sweatpants that reached the bottom of the cement floor. The man looked to be in his mid to late twenties, with thick chestnut brown hair slicked back and a full beard to complement his face. From what I could see considering the distance between us, his eyes appeared to be dark, possibly brown eyes.
The way his eyes stared into mine gave me an uncomfortable feeling... I was starting to think that this man may not have been my savior. He dressed too casually and too put together, to look like he wanted to rescue me. Not to mention his now evident dark and dangerous aura.
He walked toward me, never averting his gaze from me. I quickly stood up from the floor without breaking eye contact because I was scared, and I did not want him to think I was. I don’t want him to take advantage of me in an inferior position.
Well, I was wrong about the eyes, they were a blue color with a hint of green.
I don’t understand why a fine gentleman like himself is examining me like I’m some sort of creature on display. The way he stared at me made me question whether my appearance played a role. Looking down I note that my strapless red party dress had been stained with a mixture of blood and dirt. I probably looked a mess as well and just maybe, actually looked like something straight from an exhibit. Whatever happened to me happened pretty recently I assumed. Nonetheless, he continued his gaze at me and my body. Seeing as he has no intention to break the silence between us I say,
“Are you just going to keep staring at me or are you going to take off these chains so that I can go home?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Hello, sir? Please take these chains off of me instead of staring at me like I’m some weird fascinating zoo animal.” I start tugging on the chains to get him to comprehend what I said. He glances down at the chain, smirks, and glances back at me. Frustrated, I’ve had enough.
“Hello?! Shithead?! Get me out of these chains right now before I--”
I couldn’t complete my sentence because he brings his hand to my throat and throws my body to the wall behind me still holding my neck and squeezing tightly. He inches his face so close to mine to the point where I feel his breath, pressing me even further into the wall. Continuing to crush my windpipe, I gasp for air and thrash my head to get him to stop.
“Watch your tone with me, Elizabeth.”
He lets go of my throat and takes a step away from me as I gasp for air and try to collect myself. I ponder for a moment and question how he knows my name, rather, how he knows my full name. Only three people are allowed to call me that name and I made it clear to anyone else to refer to me as Lizzie. It’s bad enough I can’t even soothe my throat with my chained hands but this random stranger over here is calling me by a name I refuse to acknowledge.
“It’s Lizzie,” I say sternly. He seems to ignore this though as he continues to stare at me one last time and makes his way back to the door.
“HEY! Wait a minute!” I call after him. I tried to chase after him but my restricted movement can only take me so far.
“You can’t just leave me down here! I’m fucking hungry! My wrists hurt! It’s so fucking cold! It smells! And I have to pee!” My cries are deaf to his ears as he slams the door shut and locks the door from the outside.
Some time passes and he returns with a sandwich on a plate and a bottle of water. He places the food on the floor in front of me and crouches down on the floor, motioning for me to do the same. I lower my stance and sit on the ground.
“So are you going to explain how I am supposed to eat with my hands chained together?”
He grabs the sandwich with his two hands and presents the sandwich to my mouth. I open my mouth and take in a piece of the sandwich, noting the delicious turkey and cheese sandwich, with subtle hints of spicy mayo. He continues to feed me the sandwich along with some sips of water here and there all while staring intensely at me. Midway through eating the sandwich, he states,
“Can you stop acting like a little bitch and appreciate what I’ve done for you?” I am shocked at his statement considering he is the one who trapped me here.
“Done for me?!” I scoff. “DONE FOR ME?!”
“Elizabeth watch your fucking tone with me or else I’ll re--”
“I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE!” I exclaim and spit some of the contents of my sandwich at him. “AND STOP CALLING ME ELIZABETH MY NAME IS FUCKING LIZZIE! L-I-Z-Z-I-”
I am suddenly interrupted by the force of his hand across my face. My head whipped to its side with the left side of my cheek beginning to throb. He throws the remaining food across the floor, far from my reach, and hurls the water bottle on the other side of the room.
“I’m trying to do something nice for you but since you want to act like an animal, I’ll treat you like one. If you are still hungry go fend for the scraps like the fucking rats on the ground.” He gets up and storms off and slams the door, ricocheting the lightbulb and tools that hang on the wall.
This man infuriates me. Insisting that he is being kind to me? All he has to do is take me home or at least let me call someone who can pick me up. That dickhead.
I let all my built-up anger out by screaming and yelling in frustration.
“FUCKYOU SHITHEAD! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! ARGH! I’LL CUT YOUR FUCKING BALLS OFF AND SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR THROAT! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?! DOWN YOUR MOTHERFUCKING THROAT!”
How dare he call me a rat, and treat me like a caged animal!
Yelling won’t do me any good seeing as he probably can’t hear me and the fact that my throat is beginning to become sore again. Instead, I continue to sit in silence and control my breathing. It seems that a lot of time has passed because eventually, I fall asleep. All that yelling had tired me out.
Time passes before I wake up groaning, from sleeping on the uncomfortable floor.
“Oh shit!” Startled, I realized he had been watching me from the table in the middle of the room. He doesn’t say anything though as I straighten myself up and glare at him. As I’m standing up, I notice that I am no longer in those tight chains, as they have been swapped with handcuffs. It seems he has noticed as well as he gets off the table and walks towards me. I debate on whether or not I should strike him, but considering I probably won’t get far, I let that thought digress. I’m still cautious of his moves as he continues toward me. He grabs my arm to pull me close to him and guides me to the door.
He opens the door and continues to walk me towards a narrow hall to a flight of stairs. Along the way, I note the three doors that run across each side of the hall. Each stained with blood, all scratched up with pieces of wood missing, I internally shuddered at the thought that he was the reasoning behind this, and had probably done this to multiple women before. We turn right as we walk up the stairs which lead to a metal door at the very top. He steps in front to unlock the series of locks that are on the door. He opens the heavy door that creaks and ushers me past the door. I marveled at the sight in front of me.
A beautiful modern house, with dark themes and a gorgeous window view of countless trees on one side, and another view of a beach on the other. The contrast between the basement area I was in versus the scene in front of me made me realize this was a man with two completely different sides to him. We were near the kitchen area of this house, as I noted the marble black countertop, electric stove, black cabinets, and a dark grey stainless steel fridge. He clearly had an expensive taste based on the design, style, and furniture of his house, which made me question how a man like him, who could afford a house like this, kidnapped a girl like me.
As I continued to take in the scene in front of me, he tugs on my arm to follow him up another flight of stairs around the corner of the house. Once on top, he motions me into a door at the end of the hall. This hallway compared to the one in the basement was almost the same. Same six doors except for the one other door at the end of the hall. There were paintings along the wall. These paintings were dark, one of a mutilated naked woman with blood all around her, another of a fearful child being consumed by the dark shadow of an older man. It almost felt like the hallway here was masking the vibes of the hallway in the basement. As if no matter how hard one tries, the person that is underneath it all will always shine through. The grey-painted walls only added to this vibe.
He guided me to the door at the very end, which revealed a gorgeous king-sized bed, charcoal-colored walls with a soft plush wall to match, a sleek dresser, a TV near the door, and a navy blue bean bag chair. The right side held a beautiful view of the mountains on a higher level than the one downstairs. Beyond that, there wasn’t much to this room, but the view made it worthwhile. He motions me along, to a door at the corner of the room that leads to a master bathroom. A beautiful center bathtub was the first thing I noticed, along with the marble flooring and walls. To the left side was your above-average sink and toilet, and to the right was the shower with two showerheads, spacious flooring, and a clear glass door.
He drops his hand from my back once inside and closes the door behind him.
“Strip and go take a shower.”
I turn to look at him puzzled and he stares at me right back. “I’m not changing in front of you so you can leave.”
“I’m not going to repeat myself.”
“Well, I guess I’m not either,” I argue back.
He abruptly tackles me to the ground which catches me by surprise, genuinely did not expect him to just lunge at me like that. He holds my legs down with his legs, uses one hand to hold both my arms above my head with an ungodly amount of strength, grabs my dress with his free hand, and rips it from my body. My eyes widened at how he could do that so effortlessly and I questioned how cheap my dress was. His eyes stared intensely at my exposed undergarments; a matching black strapless bra and panties, making me cower in fear.
“Wait! no please! Okay okay fine I’ll take off my clothes!” However, by then it was too late as he grabbed my bra and ripped it off as well, causing me to scream in pain from the friction of the movement on my back. I began to thrash my body, twisting and turning my head, hoping that he would loosen his grip on me so I can fight back. He stares at me with a lustful and angry gaze as he grabs my underwear and pulls it down to my legs, before ripping it off as well. With my bare body completely exposed to him, he takes it all in for a moment and moans so quietly to himself that I almost didn’t catch it.
He removes himself from me and hoists me up from the floor. He then pushes me into the shower and turns on the water. He goes to sit on the edge of the nearby bathtub and watches me intensely. I turn my body away from him, knowing at least my eyes don’t have to know that he’s staring at my ass. Hopefully, I can shower in peace--somewhat but that is not the case because I guess after a while of staring at my ass he comes into the shower.
I am afraid to turn around. I am concerned about what prompted him to do this. I’m scared at how vulnerable my body is right now. I can feel his eyes piercing into my back. He grabs my shoulder and turns me around, using his other hand to hold my waist in support from the wet floor. He looks at me and I am afraid to make eye contact with him. He grabs my chin to move my head so that my eyes meet his. He steps back and removes his t-shirt along with his pants. I am afraid to look at anything past his neck as he now stands fully naked in front of me, the water from the shower soaking his brown hair turning it dark, and the droplets trickling down his face to further below. He grabs me and pulls me under the showerhead, washing off the suds from my body. I want nothing more than to leave at this point, so I turn off the water and begin to exit the shower. His arm grabs mine as I turn to leave, and pulls me close into his body in a tight embrace. His hands explore my wet body, lingering over my bottom and giving it a slight squeeze. I can feel his member on my stomach as I close my eyes tightly to prevent myself from crying, taking deep shallow breaths. He hears this and chuckles to himself, making me feel the vibrations from his body. He pulls back from the embrace to grab my chin once more, but I resist by turning my head in the opposite direction. He squeezes my jaw causing me to yelp in pain.
“Look. At. Me.” He grits.
I open my eyes to look at him as he smiles at me. While he stares at me I conjure all the saliva in my mouth and spit at his face. He steps back to angrily wipe my spit from his face and I use that time to bring my knee up and strike him in his groin region. He cowers over and slips down to the floor. I use this to my advantage as I quickly get out of the shower and make my way past the bathroom into the room. I don’t have time to look for clothes right now as I make my way to the door but I am not able to reach it as he grabs hold of my hair and pulls me back. I screech in pain and agony as he flips me around and tackles me to the floor. He then takes his fist and swings it across my face and I cry out in pain. He repeats this action, this time to my stomach. I try to fight back, swinging but missing. I try to claw my way out, scratching anything I can. I manage to scratch his face, catching him by surprise. He uses his hands to cover his face checking for blood. Distracted, I use this to my advantage and try to push him off me but he grabs my hands and pins me back down, and begins to punch and kick me wherever he pleases. I don’t give up my fight as I try to get out of his grip. I’m able to free one hand and strike his nose, hearing a crack in the process.
“Fuck!” He yells and slaps me and I am taken aback because I am hit much harder than before. He doesn’t stop though; swing after swing, blow after blow, until the point where I am entirely numb and seeing spots. Before he serves his last swing, I tell him to fuck off, but it comes out as a mere “f..u..cck,” barely above a whisper. With his final blow, I welcome the darkness that is to consume me.
