The summer I died (BRANCE)

inside the basement

Bruce wakes up. His eyes were stinging, and his throat felt like it was on fire. He remembers nothing about yesterday other than running out on his date with Vance. Everything after that was fuzzy. His vision was incredibly blury, but he could make out a tall figure standing in front of him.

"Go back to sleep. You'll hurt your pretty eyes." Bruce didn't recognise the voice. He feels a hand touch his face and rub underneath his eyes.

"Vance?" He asks quieter than he intended. He doesn't hear anything else before falling back into a deep sleep.

Bruce wakes back up after a while. He looks around. He was in some random run-down basement that he had never seen before. A large crack in the wall ran around the whole place. Where was he?

"Oh good, you're awake." Bruce jumps back in fright. Setting his sights on a creepy masked man.

"Who the fuck are you?!"

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you." The man ignored his question, his muffled voice made Bruce uneasy.

"Where am I? Where's my phone?" He was begging to panic.

"Don't worry about all that. You're totally safe as long as you obey me." Bruce didn't know what that meant, but he knew it wasn't good, and he didn't want to find out.

"I want to go home. Take me home." Bruce demands in a desperate tone.

The man sucks his teeth and sighs. "You know I can't do that."

"My sister will worry, she'll call the police. Just take me home, and I won't tell anyone." He was welling up.

"The police don't scare me." He walks over to the door and turns back around. "Even if she did call the police, they wouldn't find you." He giggles, then leaves and makes sure to lock the door.

Bruce immediately bursts into tears. This couldn't be actually happening. He always saw kidnappings on TV, but he never expected to be kidnapped himself. Why him? Why did this have to be happening to him? What if he doesn't make it out alive? He just wanted to be at home with his sister, but instead, he was stuck in this shitty basement, crying to himself like a loser.

His first initial instinct was to scream for help. Someone had to hear him. There was a small window that acted as the only light source in the basement. Bruce could see people's feet walk past. If he could just get one to stop.

"HELP! I'M DOWN HERE! HELP!" He screams at the top of his lungs, fighting against his sore throat. No one stops. Even when he was at his loudest, no one could hear him. He gives up and collapses on the stained mattress. He didn't even want to guess what the stains were from.

He looks back at the window. It was far out of his reach and had steel bars securing it. The window couldn't help him.

His stomach growled loudly. He hadn't eaten all day and was in desperate need of food. Would the man even feed him? Who knows. He probably would. Bruce remembered when he was listening to a true crime podcast, and they said that kidnappers often like to treat their victims right before killing them. Something about them liking the thought of someone's life in the control of their own hands.

He sighs before getting back up and looking for anything that could help him escape. There was an old black phone hanging from the wall above the mattress. It would be useful if Bruce actually knew how to use it or if the line wasn't cut off.

He continued to look around. He walks down the mini hallway and enters the toilet. It was small and shabby. There was a stack of mats rolled up in the corner. Nothing really important.

When walking back through the hallway, he notices a small crack in one of the tiles. He picks up the loose peice and sets it to one side. The floor underneath it was dirt.

'Think, Bruce, think!' He mentally screams at himself, and then it clicked. He would start digging his way out and would hide the hole with one of the mats. So he started digging like never before, putting the dirt to one side. The place started going dark, so Bruce scooped up the access and dumped it into the toilet. He realised he had under-estimated the time this would actually take. Whatever. This was the only idea he had right now, so it would have to do. He unrolls one of the mats and covers it before going back to the mattress and falling asleep.

He awakes to the sound of the door opening, but instead of seeing the man he sees.

...

"Amy!"

She runs up and hugs him tightly.

"Bruce! I can't believe it's you!" She sniffles into his shoulder before pulling back.

"You found me! I can go home." Happy tears fall. He would be ok.

"Bruce." Amy's face drops to sadness.

"What?" He asks, confused. She found him, so why did she look sad.

"I'm sorry." Her voice turns disorientated.

"Sorry? For what?" What was going on? He just wanted to get out of here immediately.

"So sorry."

"For what?!" Bruce repeats himself. That's when Amy disappears, and he jolts up. It was a dream. All of it was a dream. He was still stuck.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" The man sets down a tray of scrambled eggs and a bottle of sprite in front of him.

Bruce looks down at the food suspiciously.
"What did you put in this?" He didn't trust this man one bit. What if he drugged it.

"Salt and pepper." He chuckles. Bruce stares at him, and he sighs. "Eat it, don't eat it. You're already down here." The masked guy shrugs and exits again, locking the door.

The next few days go pretty much the same. The guy doesn't feed him every day, and he remains incredibly creepy. The digging had very little to no progress, and Bruce was getting extremely tired. The dreams were the only thing giving him hope.

The door opens, and the man walks in with no tray in hand.

"Where's my food?" Bruce asks. He didn't eat yesterday, so he was kind of expecting some food today.

"What's your name?" The man changed the subject quickly.

"Why? Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I got to call you something. And what's the harm with telling me your name, hm?" He moves closer and sits down next to Bruce.

"Bruce. I'm Bruce yamada."

"Bruce. What a beautiful name for such a beautiful boy." He places a hand on Bruce's face and rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. Bruce stares at him, frozen in place.

"Why me?" Bruce whispers. Saying the question that had been repeating in his mind.

"You're special, Bruce. I know you're scared and I know you want to go home but I promise, i'll let you go once I've had my fun." A shiver runs down Bruce's back. He was scared. He looks to the door, wide open. He could just run. It's not like he was bad at running, I mean, he did baseball, but who knows how fast this man was, and he really didn't want to die this early.

"I'm tired, I want to go to sleep." He would just have to keep digging tomorrow.

"Ok, I'll come down in the morning with some food." He leaves the room like any other day, but this time he didn't lock it. He had forgotten to lock it. This could be Bruce's escape.

He waits a few minutes before opening the door and going up the stairs. A rush of adrenaline filled his body. He opens the next door, and...

Shit.

The man was waiting on a chair. Shirtless with a belt in hand. Bruce had fucked up.

"Did I say you could leave the basement?" Bruce shakes his head.
"Naughty boy." He stands up and starts walking towards Bruce.

"I'm sorry." Bruce slowly walks backwards, fear glistening in his eyes.  The man grabs his wrists with a strong grip. Bruce couldn't walk away anymore. The guy strikes Bruce's face with the belt. He yelps in pain, earning another strike. He doesn't stop until Bruce passed out.