Betrayed by Trust

Chapter 7-

Rowan falls asleep on the floor, hoping to get an escape from reality, but when they awake, they immediately notice that they were no longer on the cold, hard floor, but instead they were on the bed. Their knuckles were no longer throbbing with pain, but instead they were wrapped in a fresh bandage, the blood from their earlier outburst cleaned up. Confusion clouded their mind as they took in their surroundings, wondering how they got on the bed and who bandaged their hand.

Suddenly, the phone rings, its sound jolting them out of their thoughts. The voice on the phone speaks in a calm, almost sickeningly sweet tone.

"Ah, good morning, sleeping beauty, you really needed that nap, didn't you?"

"Demi, please let me out."

The voice on the phone lets out a sigh, their tone shifting to a mixture of mock disappointment and amusement.

"Oh, darling, are we still at it, are we? Really, how many times do I have to tell you? You're going nowhere until I say so. And begging and pleading won't work. No matter how much you do it."

"Come on Demi, this isn't funny anymore. Just let me out."

"Love, you still can't wrap your head around it, can you? This isn't a joke, it's a game. And you're caught right in the middle of it. So, spare me your little attempts at reason and just accept the situation for what it is: You're stuck in there until I decide otherwise."

Rowan nods their head, tears in their eyes as they look up, phone still in hand.

The voice on the phone lets out a satisfied hum, clearly enjoying the broken look in their eyes. They speak in a condescending tone.

"Good, good. Finally accepting your fate, are you? It was about time. I've grown so tired of your constant whining and begging. It was starting to get quite annoying."

Rowan nodded their head and turned to look around the room, tears falling from their eyes. They walked to the bed and got under the covers.

The person on the phone watches as they move across the room and climb into bed, their tone now holding a hint of mockery.

"Aww, now don't go crying on me. I thought we were past that. But if you want to curl up under the covers and have yourself a little pity party, be my guest. It won't change anything, you know."

The person on the phone laughs coldly as they hear their sobs, clearly enjoying the sound of their emotional breakdown. Their tone becomes patronizing.

"There, there, no need to get all worked up. It's not like crying is going to get you anywhere. Just accept your situation, darling. You're mine now, and there's nothing you can do about it.

"You are a psychopath." Rowan says and hangs up the phone, cutting the voice off. Their taunting comes to an abrupt end. A moment of silence fills the room before the phone rings again, the sound breaking the momentary peace.

Rowan continues to ignore the calls as the phone continues to ring persistently, each peal of the ringer growing more and more impatient. But Rowan remained steadfast, refusing to pick up and listen to the voice on the other end. The ringing continues, the sound becoming a constant, annoying reminder of their confinement and the person who's keeping you captive.

The phone's ringer abruptly stops as Rowan turns off the sound. The room falls eerily quiet, the absence of the persistent ringing leaving a strange sort of emptiness in the air, Rowan was left in silence, with only their own thoughts and the sound of their breathing and any outside noise seeping through the door to keep them company.

As time passes, fatigue finally catches up to them and they drift off to sleep. Their eyes close, and sleep takes over, offering a brief respite from your worries and fears. But even in their dreams the memory of their confinement lingers, seeping into their subconscious and leaving them with a sense of unease even in their unconscious state.