ꜱᴛᴏᴄᴋʜᴏʟᴍ ꜱʏɴᴅʀᴏᴍᴇ

two

"Good job," He said patting me on the head after he took the camera off the tripod. "I have some things I have to do, make yourself at home."

I heard him walk up the stairs, the old wood creaked under his feet. He slammed the door shut and I heard a click as he locked the door behind him.

The air was silent. The room had an oddly familiar smell to it like it had been deeply sanitized as if it was a hospital. Strong sents of bleach, alcohol and iron.

I sniffed, holding back my tears. I rubbed the cloth that was over my eyes, on my shoulder. I force the blindfold off my face and it falls around my neck.

I looked up and there are three light bulbs above me in a row. They were dim, the middle one was broken, mostly out, but if you watched it for long enough, it would softly flicker.

The wooden crates in the corner had a thin layer of dust on them, probably the newest thing in the room. The concrete floor had a rough texture to it, I moved my foot, rubbing it back and forth on the ground, and it made a sandpaper-like sound.

The grey box of a room was so lonely.

---

"Is dad drunk?" I asked my mum pulling softly on her dress.

"Shhh, don't be rude. Do you know why your father drinks? It's because of you," She spat at me, "Go to your room."

"But-"

"Nothing. I don't want to hear, anything from you," She said grabbing my collar, she dragged me into my bedroom and threw me in. I tripped on my feet as my mother used her force to get rid of me. As if she was throwing out something she didn't need anymore.

I heard the keys jingle as she locked the door leaving me alone inside.

I sit crying on my floor wanting someone to come back for me.

That night I ended up sleeping on the cold wooden floor of my bedroom. 'Mum is going to come back, she is going to give me a warm hug and dinner,' I told myself through the tears.

---

I wasn't sure how long it had been. My throat was dry and tight. I could feel my eyes becoming heavy as my head rested on my shoulder.

I needed food and water. He's not going to starve me down here, is he?

I could barely keep my eyes open. I was so exhausted. My wrist and legs hurt so much, from struggling. I could feel the texture of the zip ties digging into me, cutting my circulation and grating off my skin.

My head was pounding. I needed food and water. I needed to sleep, in my nice warm bed at home.

I felt myself drift off.

I jolted myself awake again, after what only felt like a few minutes of peace, at the time.

I have to go home. I told myself. I looked around the room again, more closely, maybe there was something I had missed.

I had come up with the plan to use one of the wooden planks that made up the crates in the corner as a weapon. There was a rusted nail sticking out of the box, I planned on using that to cut the zip tie. All I had to do was get over there.

I looked back at the door at the top of the stairs. Like I expected him to burst through the door, the moment I thought about escaping.

I pushed my legs against the floor and used my upper body to push myself forward.

The chair makes a grating sound against the coarse concrete floor and in my astonishment, I had moved forward, maybe only a few centimetres but I still had moved.

I felt myself smile, it was maybe just for a second but I had hope.

I go to jump in my seat again, repeating the same body motion.

I started to move forward, and the leg of the chair court on something, still in motion, I lean forward to see what it got stuck on.

A sickening sense of no longer being supported by the ground rushed over me, as I felt the harsh air rush my face as the chair pushed me forward.

I heard the scraping sound of my face hitting the ground.

I laid still in shock. I let out a breath as felt a shooting pain coming from my cheek and knees, the two things that broke my landing.

I groaned in pain and slowly lifted my head off the ground. I saw a layer of skin and blood in the cracks of the grainy concrete surface.

I stared at the small patch of blood and watched small droplets of blood fall from the open wound on my cheek.

My eyes pooled with water and I relax my body, letting my stomach fall flat on the cold rough concrete.

The stinging in my face and legs continued as I lay in despair, my arms still pulled back uncomfortably behind the back of the chair.

I allowed myself to close my eyes and fall asleep.

---

"What the hell are you doing?" I was woken by the man, "Stupid Brat."

I stayed silent as he walked toward me. I jumped as his hand gripped my shoulder. His other hand was on the back of the chair as he pulled me and the chair back up.

It scared me how easy it was for him to pick me and the chair up.

He walked over to my side of the chair. We made eye contact. His eyes were menacing.

He looked annoyed, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes heavy.

The man brought his hand up to my face, I flinched as his fingertips pushed on my chin, making my bloody cheek face him. He inspected the wound, looking at it with the same unsettling stare on his face.

Next, he looked me up and down. He saw the wound on my knee. I got a chance to look at it too, the impact had ripped my tights, it didn't look too deep like a large graze.

"tks, I will get something to clean the wounds," He said, standing up straight.

I followed him with my eyes as he walked upstairs. He left the door open behind him, all I could see was the cycling of the room above this one.

He came back. He was holding, a clear bottle with a white lid full of clear liquid, cotton rounds and two large band-aids.

He bent himself over me, I looked at his chest avoiding his eyes, he was were a grey long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

His arms were toned, and he had small scars along them.

He poured some of the clear liquid on a cotton round and held it up to my face. He lightly dapped the cut, I pulled away from him as my cheek burned.

"I know it burns. You have to stay still," He said waiting for me, to move back towards him. I squeezed my lips together and moved back towards him.

I sat still for him as he cleaned the wound on my face. "Have you sent the video to my father?" I asked in a low, hesitant voice.

He stopped what he was doing and looked into my eyes. He seemed a little shocked that I was talking to him. "No response in the last 24 hours," He said continuing to clean the gash on my face.

"It's been 24 hours?" I say looking at him in shock, my throat hurting every time I talked. He just nodded and got a new cotton round to clean my knee. "My dad is a stubborn man, he probably called the police. You should have taken my brother, he is much more valuable to my father. You would have been paid by now if it was him."

I regret my words as the man stared at me with cold regard like he was looking right through me. It made me feel a little sick.