Stockholm Syndrome isn't That Bad ♡

3 - "This is how you repay me?"

A/N- Taylor ↑↑↑
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Finally, it all hit me.

I crumbled to the ground as the realization came over me.

He's right. I can't escape, I'm trapped.

A sob ripped through my throat as I began to cry. My knees making their way to my chest as I hugged myself.

"Awww no need to cry, kitten. It's not like you liked your old life. Maybe you'll like it better here." My kidnapper cooed as he stepped closer to me.

I looked up at him, his expression looking... amused..?

Sick bastard...

How could you find amusement in someone crying?

"Get away from me you psycho..." I said through clenched teeth.

He ignored my insult, only chuckling lowly then kneeling down to my level and leaning in close before speaking.

"You'll learn to like it here," he smirked, his breath against my neck making me shiver and push him back.

He leaned away and stood up, looking down at me.

"I'll leave you alone to look around and get accustomed to your new living space." He said, walking past me and up the stairs.

I kept my eyes on the floor as he continued.

"I'll be back later with food and I left some of my clothes in the bedroom if you'd like to change out of that dress."

With those last words, I heard him unlock the door and walk out, locking it again behind him.

I sat there shaking out of fear and worry as the feeling of helplessness came over me.

A tear ran down my face and I started to cry again.

I can get out of here... I know I can... I don't know how yet but I'll figure out a way.

With that, I finally forced myself to stop crying and shakily stand up.

I looked around the room, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon.

I look at one of the wooden chairs next to a table which is what I'm guessing is a cheap dining area.

Walking over to it, I leaned down and grabbed one of the legs.

I picked it up and reared my arm back, grunting as I threw it as hard as I could against the wall.

"Fuck..." I muttered to myself seeing the chair didn't break.

I sat down, picking it up again and trying to rip off a leg with my hands instead.

The cracking sound of the wood made me keep going.

Ignoring the pain in my hands and arms, I pulled through. The leg of the chair finally snapping into a rigid spiky edge.

I relaxed, letting the chair leg fall out of my hand as I laid back.

Damn, I should really start working out if I get out of here. Wait. No, I will get out of here. I'll get out of here, away from that crazy sadistic stalker guy, and go back to my life... God I wonder if Casey actually did believe him...

I shook my head to run away that thought.

No, he wouldn't, he's probably out trying to find me.

Then the sound of the stair door clicking broke me out of my thoughts.