𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞//𝐣𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓸

"A little party never hurt no one, that's why it's alright"

I heard it dripping like water from a faucet. repeatedly and loudly. the only sound I heard besides my breathing.

I open my eyes, expecting to see the sink. but instead I see only four empty, dirty walls. My hands are tied tightly above, and my feet do not touch the ground. I just stood there.
When I look down, I find out that what I heard was not water at all, but blood dripping from the wound on my right side.

A wave of panic washed over me. My breath quickens.
I don't remember what happened. How did I get here?

I don't remember anything; we don't know where I am, and I don't know what time it is.
I don't know how long I'll be gone before someone starts worrying about me.
I look around me.

There is nothing. No window. I'm just a yellow light above my head. It stinks in here. I notice I don't have my shoes. and not even my blouse. I'm just in my bra.
The wound on my stomach is fresh.
I tilt my head in pain.

This cannot be. I can't die like this. Not now. Not here.
There is still so much I want to do. I want to tell people so much.
I try to be calm and not think about the worst. But tears started to flow the moment I started thinking about my team. And about her?
Was that what she felt? When she was stabbed to death. When she had no one by her side. With the thought of dying.

Emily was stronger than I will ever be. She always was and always will be.
I can't help but try to move. But the chain in my hands cannot be broken just like that.
I'm starting to lose hope.

I never thought I would die without admitting my attraction to women. I am not trusting anyone with this. I replay in my head all the times I had the chance to do it. But my own fear overshamed me. It was a lot easier to pretend and hide my feelings. Just to be someone else.

My head is spinning. I don't know how much longer I can still be awake.
Suddenly, the big,thick doors on my right side opened.
And there he is.

Craig.

Expect now that he doesn't have a nice, expensive shirt,gold clocks on his hand, or a good haircut.
He looks like someone totally different.

I tried to profile him. What I know about him is that I'm too weak.
It's clear he is pretending to be this 'perfect dreamy guy' to catch a lonely woman.

"Look who finally woke up," he said, coming closer to me and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, a sick smile on his face.

I stare at him.
"What do you want?"

He smiles again. Looking all over my body.
'Why are you being so rude? Yesterday, you were all in me. Flirting and smiling."

"You kidnapped a federal agent. You obviously have some reason to do this."

He looks at my wound.
"Do you want me to take care of it?" He gets closer and slightly places his finger on my stomach.

"Get your hands off me."

"Oh, common, you were enjoying this yesterday," he says.

And as he said, it was like a click in my head. My stomach turned around and threw up in front of him.

"God, why do you have to ruin every moment we have together?" He turned to me with his back.

"My team is looking for me. If you kill an federal agent, you will get in more trouble. You know that."

"Please don't be stupid. I'm not going to kill you. Your team...you, you actually forget about me?"

I look at him. With a confused expression.

"You did, didn't you? Let's say I killed a lot of women five years ago. Then I banished them from earth, and you stopped looking for me. Closed the case. No? Nothing?"

"I can't remember all the cases."

"Oh common, you stupid bitch, think. I want you to remember."
I get trouble breathing. I try to think of his profile and motives, but still nothing.

"Young blondes with rich parents have succeeded in life. They were all bicthies that trusted the wrong guy at a bar."

"So why now? If we never found you, why did you come back?"

"Because Jennifer, you all forget about me. About the girls: And I want your team to remember. I want people to see you forget about victims and killers. You don't care."
I shake my head.

"You are wrong. We don't forget; in this world, it's just too much hate; it's too much to remember."

He leans closer.
"Do you think people are going to remember you? If you disappeared, Or died? Tell me. Do you have people that care about you like this?"

I do not break eye contact. I try not to let his words sink into my mind.
I'm getting weak.

"No answer. What could I expect?" he said. "You are getting exhausted; I am giving you an hour. See if your team loves you that much to get here in time," he said, and he left.

I have never believed in God. But right now, I'm praying for someone to save me. I need my team more than anything.