THE CALL OF HER

7

You stare at the ceiling, laying on the old couch. You've tried to pick the lock of the door three times this morning, your thumb nail chipped and the pen on the book shelf exploded, leaving you with a ink filled hand and dirty rope.

Stomach rumbling, you smell eggs being made somewhere in the house. You feel shakey, very tired and most of all bored. 

Taking in a small sigh, you look to the window. It's locked, of course. You know you're on the second floor, and somewhere in a pine forest. The sun invites itself in, its soft touch somehow comforting. 

Morning is only enjoyable when warm, you've come to think. 

Memories take over your brain, with nothing else to do. "I wonder what they're doing at the vet clinic." You mutter. "I wonder if Monica has contacted the police, or even gone to look for me. She's probably at work right now, chewing on her nails, thinking if the police have found anything on me. Maybe there's a missing person out on me by now?" Your words are fast, yet quiet.

You glance at the wooden door, across the room. "I wonder what Kate's doing right now." Saying her name makes your heart flinch.

"Kate was persistent with me, when we were younger. To be honest, I didn't get why she wanted to be with me." You say to anything that's willing to listen. "She had just broken up with her boyfriend, and went to me. I was one of her close friends." 

You continue to stare. "No one new about us. In the halls at school we were the two girls that never left each others side, and to our parents the two of us were just sisters to them." You remember how your Mother smiled every time Kate came in through the front door behind you after school, almost everyday.  

"I didn't say yes to officially being hers until the last month of Eighth grade. I hadn't been with anyone romantically yet." Your arms feel numb, behind your back, making you sit up to turn and rest against the couch cushion. "I couldn't wrap my heart around how she, or anyone could love me."

"My mother blamed me for the absence of my father. He seemed to see his clients more than his own daughter and wife." You keep your eyes on the door. "She put the loathing of her husband onto me. No love was given in the household of a busy father and stay at home mom, who believed everything was okay as long as her glass was half full."

"I worked for my job, my life. And, here I am." You look around the room, taking it all in for the millionth time today. The bookcase with dusty books sit in the left corner, beside the door. On the right corner, There's a table with one single wooden chair. And next to the couch you sit on, is a small table with carved in words.

Were there others before me? You'd ask yourself. Of course there was, the men who came in two days ago seemed professional. And if Toby was able to successfully lead you to a closed off location, and hit you perfectly on the head, these people defiantly have done this before. But why? Do they work for someone, an organization? Your face pales, what if they work for some kind of Mafia? 

You stand up, legs shaking. "Who could I have pissed off to get here?" You try to scoot near the door, but the sound of slow footsteps make you freeze.