Those 7 years: Missing One Shot Chapter

11

The days blurred together. Time seemed to lose all meaning in the cold isolation of the shed. The makeshift bed, the thin mattress, the scratchy blanket—they were meager comforts in a world that felt like it was closing in on me. The only thing that broke the monotony was the occasional opening of the door, a new set of rules, a new piece of furniture, a new item dangled in front of me like a carrot on a stick. They controlled everything, even the smallest aspects of my existence, making sure I knew how powerless I was.

I sat on the bed, my back pressed against the cold wall, hugging my knees to my chest. It was midday, and the light filtering in through the small window high up on the wall cast a faint glow across the room. My body still ached from the last time they'd come. My wrists were no longer bound, but the soreness lingered, a constant reminder of the chains that had kept me still for too long. My mind wandered, drifting between memories of what my life had been—of Travis, of home, of warmth—and the cold, harsh reality I was now trapped in.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. I tensed immediately, instinctively curling tighter into myself. Two of them entered, the familiar shadowed figures. Their faces were always obscured, as though that last shred of anonymity gave them even more power over me. One of them, the taller one, carried a tray of food. The other held a small box. I knew better than to ask what was inside.

The taller man placed the tray on the small table they had given me the day before. A plate of plain bread and a cup of water. They always gave me just enough to survive, no more. The other man stepped forward, opening the box. He pulled out a thin, fraying dress, something barely better than the tattered clothes I was already wearing. He tossed it onto the bed next to me, as if the act of offering a "reward" was beneath him.

"You've been good," he said, his voice flat, almost bored. "You get to have this."

I stared at the dress but said nothing. I had learned by now that speaking would only provoke them. Their rules were simple but cruel: follow them, and you got something—clothes, socks, furniture—but the smallest defiance led to swift punishment. They thrived on controlling every aspect of my existence, and even now, I could feel their eyes on me, waiting for a reaction.

"Put it on," the shorter man ordered, his voice sharp and cold.

I hesitated, but only for a second. I stood slowly, my legs shaky from days of sitting in silence. My movements were slow, deliberate. I knew better than to show any kind of defiance. I pulled the dress over my head, letting it fall to my knees. It hung loose on my frame, a sign of how much weight I had lost in the past months. The men watched me, their eyes lingering too long. I felt the familiar burn of humiliation creep up my neck.

"That's better," the shorter one said, taking a step closer. His eyes were dark, calculating. "But you need to remember something, Taylor." He grabbed my wrist, squeezing it hard enough that I had to bite down on my lip to stop a cry of pain from escaping. "You don't get anything for free. You earn every single thing. Understand?"

I nodded quickly, my eyes cast downward. I couldn't bear to look at him. His grip tightened for a moment longer before he released me, shoving me backward onto the bed. I caught myself before I fell, breathing hard through my nose.

The taller man watched silently, his eyes narrowed. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice dripping with condescension. "You play by the rules, you'll stay out of trouble."

They turned and left without another word, the door slamming shut behind them. The sound echoed in the small room, and I finally allowed myself to breathe, my heart hammering in my chest. I rubbed my wrist where he had grabbed me, the skin already bruising. It was just another mark to add to the collection.

The afternoon dragged on, and I couldn't help but wonder what Travis was doing right now. Was he looking for me? Was he okay? The thought of him, of the life we had, was almost too painful to hold onto, but I needed it. I needed to remember that there was something worth fighting for, something outside of this place. I needed to believe that he hadn't given up on me.

Hours passed, and the light from the small window grew dimmer as the evening approached. I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in my stomach. The bread and water they gave me wasn't enough, but it was all I had. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, shivering despite the added layer of clothing.

The sound of footsteps outside the shed brought me back to the present. My heart raced as I heard the lock turn. The door opened, and this time, there were no trays, no boxes. Just them.

I tried to sit up, to prepare myself for whatever was about to happen, but before I could move, they grabbed me. Their hands were rough, pulling me to my feet with such force that I stumbled, nearly falling. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to stay upright, but it was no use. One of them shoved me hard against the wall, his breath hot against my neck.

"You thought we'd let you off that easy?" His voice was a cruel whisper in my ear. "You don't get to just sit around and get comfortable."

I didn't have time to respond before I felt a fist slam into my stomach. The pain was immediate, sharp, and blinding. I doubled over, gasping for air, but they didn't stop. Another blow landed on my side, then another. I lost count, each hit blending into the next until all I could feel was pain, sharp and unrelenting.

They dragged me back to the bed, throwing me onto the mattress. I curled in on myself, my body shaking from the pain. I didn't make a sound—I couldn't. I had learned that crying only made it worse.

"Remember," one of them said, his voice cold. "You earn everything."

I stayed there for what felt like hours after they left, curled up on the bed, tears slipping silently down my cheeks. My body ached, every inch of me screaming in pain. I wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but there was no one to hear me. No one to come to my rescue.

Night fell, and the shed grew cold again. I wrapped the blanket around myself, but the chill seeped into my bones, the pain making it impossible to find any comfort. As the darkness swallowed me whole, I let myself think of Travis again.

I had to hold on. For him. For us.

I just had to survive.