Finding Yourself

Chapter Three

"London, come here," I hear a voice say.

"No. No. No. Go away. Get away from me!" I fight back in protest.

I hear the voice, but everything is black, I don't know where I am. The voice doesn't sound familiar, I don't believe I've ever heard it before. I feel a hand grab my arm, a hand with a very tight grip. What is happening? Where am I? Who is this person, and what do they want?

"Aww, London, my dear, don't be scared. You have no reason to be afraid, I won't hurt you. I just want to do what's best for you," I hear the voice say again, but closer to my ear.

"Who are you?" I ask the voice.

"I'm your friend, an old friend," I can tell the voice is male.

Old friend? My only friend is Micah, he's my only real friend...

"Micah?" I ask.

"Haha, no, not Micah," the voice responds.

Who could this be? What other friend do I have?

"Come here, dearie," I feel a hand come out to grab me. No. Two hands. Two hands, one on each shoulder. The mystery person harshly pushes me against a stone wall, so hard that I fall. When I try to get up he hits me, and I'm out.

When I awaken I try to move my hand to my face, to check for blood, but I can barely move it. There is a lantern in a distant corner, and I can see a little bit because of it.

I look down and see that my hands are in shackles, the chains connected to the floor. I look around and realize I am in what seems to be a cell. I'm trapped. I've been captured and held captive, but why?

I cry out for help.

No one responds.

I cry out again.

No one comes.

I continue to cry out until my voice starts to give out.

There is no sound. It's perfectly quiet, except it's not perfect, this is not perfect, this is the exact opposite of perfect.

I'm being held a prisoner, and I have no idea why.

I continue to cry out for help, and nothing happens. I pull and yank, trying to break the chains. It doesn't work, but that doesn't stop me. I continue to yank until I see blood flowing from my wrists. Not just dripping, but flowing. I've never seen so much blood coming from a wound. There is a puddle of blood on both sides of me. The blood keeps flowing, it doesn't stop. Minutes pass by, and it still doesn't stop.

"HELP!!!" I cry out once again, but even louder this time. Then everything goes dark.

• • •

I awake gasping.

What just happened? What kind of dream was that? Oh wait, it was a nightmare, not a dream.

I'm too scared to go back to sleep, so I look at my clock: 3:04.

Without realizing I go to text Micah, then remembering that it's 3 o'clock in the morning, I put my phone down and get out of bed.

I walk over to my dresser mirror and just look at myself. The reflection looks terrified and tired, almost unrecognizable. I put my hand out to touch the mirror, then decide against it.

Walking over to my bookshelf I grab a book, then go to sit on the chair in my book nook. I cannot go back to my bed, too scared to repeat what had just happened.

I always thought that reading was the most calming thing that anyone could ever do. So I sit there. I sit there and I read for hours. I read until I cannot read anymore.