Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 15, 2023 𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 𝐀𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚
SWALLOWING THE LUMP in his throat. Head hanging down, lips parted as he breathed throughout his mouth.
Small trails of saliva dangling from his lips as he scrunched his face, catching whiff of the foul scent absorbing the air.
The smell having him want to hunch over and repeat his previous actions as his stomach painfully cramped from the force.
Beads of sweat building at his hairline, trickling down the sides of his face while he lightly dapped his bruised skin with an white cloth.
Staining it crimson red as he rinsed the towel. The faucet water mixing in with his liquids before traveling down the drain — repeating the process.
Silent as he ignored his own reflection. Thoughts aimlessly wandering while struggling to block out the heavy feeling of disgust.
One-Hundred Sixty-Eight Hours
The deceiving amount of time he'd been stuck as an hostage. The week uncomfortable and degrading as it seemed to have dragged on forever.
Not aware of how long it had been as he were locked inside a fairly decent house majority of the day. Not allowed to any electronics — no clue of what was going on in the outside world.
Forced to wear an wrist monitor, detecting his every movement along with alerting if he'd grew anywhere near leaving the area.
Being as he were by himself most of the time, a notebook and pen became his best-friends. Consistently writing poems to stall time, along with seizing his anxiety.
Using such as an way to escape his thoughts that seem to cloud with questions of his sons and pregnant girlfriends whereabouts.
Twenty-four seven, wondering if they were safe and sound. If they were thinking about him, talking about him — attempting to find him soon.
Feeling himself running out of patients as the days passed, craving their presence badly. Yet, staying strong with the thought they'd see each other again.
Snapping from his thoughts. Moving his vision as he caught glimpse of his appearance as he instantly frowned. bruised and bloody face, along with now short hair peering back at him.
The woman chopping it off feeling he'd look more appealing without 'nappy dreads' as she labeled them. The bruises coming from his constant protests.
