MiniSeries About Timothee Chalamet

Kidnapped Part 2

Warnings - mentions of torture, mentions of death, kidnapped, mentions of rape, mentions of brainwashing, mentions of beating, mentions of water torture such as water boarding, mentions of fainting

I woke up in a dank basement. I saw there were three other women there as well. A lady who looked to be in her late fifties, a teen girl with red hair, and to my horror, a girl that couldn't have been older than five.

"What is this?" I croaked, stretching my stiff body. The teenage girl was rocking back and forth with a dazed stare, and mumbling the same thing over and over.

"I am Melissa Norbert, I am Melissa Norbert."

"I'm so sorry you're here," said the oldest woman. "You were kidnapped."

"I gathered that, but why? By who?"

I read a lot of true crime and this pile of victims made no sense. None of us were the same age. I tried to analyze facial features, maybe we all looked a bit similar but the ages was what truly threw me off.

"Many years ago, Andy Norbert lost his wife, and three daughters in a terrible drowning accident. He's slowly been going mad ever since, his breaking point came when his sister died after a long battle with cancer. Now he's been rebuilding his family with substitutes. My name is Angelina Eccles, but to him I'm Jennifer Norbert. This is Kennedy Rothsburg, but he is programming her to call herself Melissa Norbert. The little one is Stacy Keys from what I gather, but to him, she's Buttercup Norbert, or baby buttercup as he sometimes calls her."

"This is all too crazy," I said, now understanding the dynamic. Angelina sounded like she'd explained this many times, she must've been the first one here.

"I'm supposing you will be Sabrina Norbert, his oldest daughter, what's your real name?" She asked.

"Y/n y/l/n," I said.

"You do look a bit like her," Melissa mused, and pointed up. String after string of yarn hung cross crossed on from wall to wall. Clothes pin held photos in place. Hundreds and hundreds of photos of the same family, the same girls. I instantly saw the one that I was meant to be.

"What, what does he do to us?" I asked.

"For the most part, we play house. Of course, playing house means different things for each of us, if you understand my meaning," she said.

"Oh no," I said, covering my mouth.

"Apparently, he and his wife had a very active sex life," she said.

"I'm so sorry," I said.

"I nearly prefer it to what he puts Kennedy through," she said. "She didn't comply to this easily. He's been brain washing her. She comes back more damaged with every session. If we ever get out of here, they're going to have one Hell of a times convincing her she isn't a dead girl named Melissa Norbert."

"Is it better if I call her Kennedy?" How was I adapting to this? How could I not be having a panic attack?

"That's what I try to do, but if he catches you doing it, he'll beat you."

"Good to know."

"Then there's the water torture," she shuddered.

"Huh?"

"He makes us swim for hours, trying to prove we'll never die from drowning. He'll throw water over us, or drip it on our foreheads for hours. He'll have us sit in baths for over 24 hours, with no bathroom breaks, to prove we can take it and won't leave him.

"I can't swim," I whispered.

"You're doomed."

Timothée POV

After a couple days with no text from y/n, I thought I maybe had been a little too dramatic. I called her a couple times but she never answered. It had been late and dark to leave her out there.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to police officers holding up y/n's phone. I saw my missed calls.

"We'd like to talk to you concerning your friend y/n y/l/n," they said sternly.

"Why, why do you have that? What's going on!"

"Y/n has been missing for four days and we're lead to believe you were the last one to see her."

"M-missing?" I panted, this couldn't be happening, this was all my fault.

"We presumed she's kidnapped."

"Kidnapped!" Was the last thing I remember hearing before I passed out.