Chapter Eleven

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Judas was a bad man in the Bible but the judas in this book is not the judas in that one, bc that one is evil and this one is not (kind of) 

i am christian too so do not worry i am not making light of jesus' betrayer 

Chapter Eleven

I can't comprehend it. Judas has been alone for so long, and now he finally has someone to talk to. Why does he leave me alone?

It is as if he is afraid of me, or worse, he can't stand to hear me speak. 

So why the hell is he keeping me here? Spite? Revenge? Pettiness?

What is his motive?

I pace the lonely room, back and forth to the window, and the door. The fire is almost completely burned out at this point, and the cold air of the morning is slipping in through the cracks of the window.

I miss running, I miss the silence of the forest, unlike the loud creaking in the mansion that never ceases. I miss fresh air, and not the astounding smells of mold and filth that filter in through the walls like poison.

My heart clenches when I conclude that what I miss most is everything about life Judas will never experience.

After what felt like hours of pacing, I plop on the bed, and let out a long, dramatic sigh, pretending that Judas could hear it all throughout the mansion. My boredom is immeasurable, my longing to leave this room is at a capacity I can not contain.

"Judas!" I push myself up off the bed and began to jump, pounding my feet on the floor, hoping to make as much noise as possible. "Judas!" I move to the door, and kick it, over and over I kick the old wood. I scream my captor's name, and when I'm just about to give up, my foot aching, and my throat sore, the door swings open, and Judas glares at me with an unamused expression.

I can't help it, when I see him, not because it is him, but because standing before me is another living, breathing human being, I sag in relief. "Will you talk to me now?"

His response is lifting a rope up for me to see. My heart beats much quicker when I realize what he is offering, "You'll let me walk around with you?" I admit, I didn't think me asking him previously would work. It was as much of a far-fetched idea to me as it probably was for him. I never thought he'd agree to it, I wasn't sure if I had even wanted him to agree.

But now, I was ecstatic that he did.

I was curious what it was he did in the house all day. What did he do, while I was pacing the bedroom, bored out of my mind?

I lifted my hands before he even told me to do so, "Go ahead."  I urged him to bound my wrists together, and hesitantly, he steps closer to me, and ties my hands, refusing to have any sort of contact with his skin against mine.

I force myself to be calm, but inside, I'm smiling. Not only does this allow me to walk around, and not be cooped up in a creepy bedroom, but I also have more chances to find an escape.

I don't let the degradation of me being walked like a dog bother me. This was a step up from my previous position. This was a good thing.

He has the other end of the rope tied around his wrists, and we leave the bedroom. The floor creeks wildly as we walk down the stairs. "Is there a kitchen, here?" I ask, looking around at the several shut doors around the house. I spotted the living room, and frowned at the bloodstain on the floor. He never cleaned it up. I could still see his lifeless body laying there. I could still feel the terror I felt back then.

That's when I noticed the old bloodstains all over the room. There were splatters on the wall, dried blood crusted on shards of glass on the floor. There were several old, brown bloodstains on the wooden floors too. I barely registered any of this last time I was here. 

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