Stockholm Syndrome

Wooden

His feet ascended down the staircase at a rapid pace, his stride growing longer with each step he took as he moved closer and closer to me, cowering in the corner.

"What the fuck was that for!?" He cautiously half-whisper half-yelled at me, his feet still travelling across the dingy floor. I couldn't speak, only flinching back in retaliation to his voice. "Answer me!?" The footsteps came to a halt just a few mere inches away from me. I could almost feel his hot, heaving breaths crawl down the back of my spine, their little legs pricking and prodding at my ribcage as they went.

All my body could do was shiver, afraid of the consequences of my pointless actions. I'm not sure I even knew myself why I did it. I guess I had good reason to, considering he taunted me with food knowing damn well I had no chance of actually eating any of it. I couldn't stop myself from sniffling as I welled up in front of him, drowning in feelings of regret and sorrow.

"I told you to be fucking quiet!" He yelled, pounding his fist into the wall beside me, clearly disregarding his previous 'need' to be quiet. I let a yelp escape my lips. He crouched down beside me, bringing himself down to my level, grunting lowly in frustration with me.

"I'm... sorr-" I began to sob, my weak apology interrupted by his hand reaching up to squeeze my cheeks together with careless force, my mouth popping open in response as I hiccuped through my cries.

"Don't think I won't hurt you." His menacing words pierced through my head like spears on a battlefield, my stomach a pit of dread as my heart sank into the floor. I'm fucked. He threw my head away from him, only for it to be brought back by the force of the cloth returning to my dry mouth, suppressing my cries and returning me to a state of complete and utter hopelessness.

He the cloth. He tied it tight so it choked me and plunged the hollow of my cheeks far into the depths of my mouth, leaving my lips agape under the material; unable to properly shut. I heaved in particles of cloth each time I made an attempt at a breath, sending flecks of the fabric charging down to hack at my throat without remorse. His hand shoved my head down, my chin colliding with my collarbones as he spoke, his boots carrying him away as he set out to leave me in the void once more. "You can fucking starve."

~

My breathing had calmed, my crying had come to an eventual halt, but still I remained in complete and utter darkness with my hands tender and my face bandaged like a cast. My stomach growled in anger at my unsuccessful attempt to eat and I began to feel my bladder reaching its inevitable limit. What the fuck do I do now?

~

From what I could estimate from my abductor's periodical shuffling from above, I figured it had probably been 2... maybe even 3 hours since our dispute.

I'd had a lot to think about. I'd mulled over why he even wants me here in the first place; what did he want from me if not to endlessly torture me with power tools; ripping off my skin, tearing me open, doing whatever he pleased with me. Maybe he was going to sell me into some deranged system, although I can't imagine I'd be worth anything at all. Perhaps I owed him something, but that can't be the case since I keep to myself and owe nothing to no one. Maybe it's one of my family members that owes him something. Still, it's a bit extreme to kidnap someone over something so assumably minuscule, right?

And how come he's blindfolded me, kept my eyes hidden from seeing him? Back when I was home and watching true crime in my christmas blanket, I'd often hear them discuss that a kidnapper who lets you see their face is certainly not going to let you go. I haven't seen his face. Maybe he's planning to let me go. At least that's what I'd like to believe; any slither of hope is enough to keep my spirits somewhat high in this horrible place.

During my time sitting here I'd even thought about how diminishing it is to well and truly be alone. Sure, I used to be alone a lot back home; spending most of my time without any company and making no attempt to amend it, but this was different; a far more intense and gut wrenching feeling that dug its thick claws into my back and threatened to rip me apart. At least back home I had some life nearby me in the form of my roommates; I didn't have to talk to or be with them all the time, but it was nice to know someone else was there with me.

The thought had me finding myself almost missing the abductors visits. Although frightening, his presence gave me company and nothing he's done has really 'damaged' me too far. N0. I stopped the thoughts immediately. That's ridiculous, he fucking kidnapped me off the street, starved me and threatened to hurt me. I can't want him here with me, I'm only thinking like this because I'm hysterical and hungry. I shook my head; physically refusing to allow my thoughts to grow any more rogue and nonsensical than they already had.

I suddenly grew increasingly aware of the state I was in, in particular the state my bladder was in. I tucked myself up into a ball in an attempt to reduce the need.

As I moved my hands, the chains clattered and echoed their noise across the vast room. Huh, maybe I use this to get his attention and he can guide me to some form of a bathroom... or maybe he will actually hurt me this time; I'm not allowed to make any noise. I thought about it briefly, but ultimately, I made a choice; I didn't care. He'd done nothing to me so far and my bladder was practically screaming at me now so I didn't have much of a choice.

I moved my hands around erratically, shaking the chains that bound me to the wall, forcing their metallic laughter out to bounce off the walls and hopefully into the strangers ears.

I paused, listening for distilled shuffling or footsteps from above. Nothing. I continued to shake my chains, sending them clashing into the wall with force, partially bruising my wrists in the process. The sound rung in my ears like the chime of a church bell, travelling through walls and dancing round rooms with urgency. I continued to agitate the chains.

Stomp stomp

I stilled my hands, my ears pricking up as I listened to the sound I so thought I wanted to hear.

Badum

The sound of a heavy door - perhaps to a wardrobe or a cupboard - slamming shut.

Stomp-stomp-stomp-stomp-stomp

He marched above me, his footsteps angry, his boots slamming into the floorboards with a force so great I thought he may fall through them. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The door to my holding room swung open, the metal of its locks throwing themselves into the wall, creating a familiar metallic blare that send itself rippling towards me. He bolted towards me without hesitation, grunting as he lifted his arms and brought them down into my side.

A thick wooden rod - most likely a baseball bat - was brought tearing down into me, kicking the wind from my lungs as I choked into the cloth in agony. I panicked, squirming away from him, hoping the wall would swallow me up as he slammed another blow into the side of my thigh. I kicked towards him, screaming into the void as he sent the bat clattering into the ground put his grimy hands on me.

Forcing my head into the wall with his mighty palm, pressing his forearm up against the length of my whole body to keep me passive, he spoke. "What the FUCK is your problem!?" He spat the rotten words out into my ear, grunting breaths and heaving chest just mere inches away from me as I fell apart.

The liquid pooled beneath me, spreading itself through my joggers, seeping into the frayed material my body lay on. I could only sob as I felt his grip loosen.

He moved back slightly before palm met with my head, the power of it throwing my skull into the wall.

"Fucking pathetic." were the last words I heard before I drifted into unconsciousness.

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+*+*+ 1428 words +*+*+
(4875)

bit of a shorter chapter this time sorry chat 😔
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