Belle’s POV
Everything is dark.
The man slaps his palm over my eyes and I can’t see a thing. The whole thing is very troubling-not being able to see a thing, and on top of that have someone drag you up a flight of stairs.
My feet refuse to move without the reassurance of my eyes. It’s no surprise to me when my knees fall on one of the steps. The man, his hand still over my eyes, rough picks me up again and we’re off. It seems that we’re on the next floor, though I can’t be sure. My shoulders bump against many walls and other unfamiliar objects. It isn’t until I feel my bum land on a chair that I know I’ve arrived.
Uh-oh. I’m here. I wonder what-
The man’s large hand is lifted from my eyes, but I can’t say I feel any more relieved because I still can’t see anything.
Why is the room so dark? Where am I? Am I alone? Did I do something wrong? Are they punishing me?
“Hello.” I feel cold hands grasp my frail shoulders and my heart stops all together.
I’m going to die, aren’t I?
“AHHH!!” The abruptness of the matter triggers an ear-shattering shriek of alarm as I turn around in the chair to see a dark, shadowed figure loom over me, like a ghost.
“Aww. Why so afraid? I just want to get to know you, that’s all.” The stranger stands in front of me, I think, and I think he’s staring right at me.
“D-did I do something wrong?” The same re-occurring question that’s been boggling my mind this whole entire time explodes right out of me before I can do anything to withhold it. The second the words leave my mouth, is the same instant I regret it. How could I be so foolish to speak, when I have no idea of the formality of the situation? In other words, sometimes it’s okay to speak, sometimes it’s not. I have no idea in this case, however.
“Of course not. In fact, I’d like to congratulate you. You’ve been working really hard. I just want to know if you’re alright.” The man answers back in a way I can’t even describe. It’s the kind of voice you hear in movies. They type of voice villains use to get you to talk. At first they seem all nice, and then…
“You’re t-the boss, aren’t you?” I can’t help it, I just have to know.
What am I doing? What if I make him mad…why can’t I just shut up!
“So you’ve heard of me.” He paces around the room and I’ll bet it all that he’s smirking right now.
(silence)
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now you still haven’t answered my question.” He walks towards me in a menacing way-just like the evil villains do.
“Umm. I guess I’m alright.” I answer back quickly-I feel like I’m being interrogated for a serious crime. I can almost imagine the beads of sweat dripping down my forehead in trepidation.
“Are you sure?” He asks me again, this time louder and…scarier.
“I dunno.” I confess in a whimpered tone-my fright finally getting the better of me. I cover my ears and pretend to ignore the intimidating voice that appears to be coming from all over the room.
I don’t like this. Why can’t it be light? I can’t see when it’s dark…
“Then what’s that on your hands?” I feel the same icy cold hands crudely grab my injured ones. This physical contact makes me very uncomfortable and oddly upsetting in a weird way I can’t explain.
I wish he’d let go, he’s hurting my hands!
“It hurts! Stop!” I cry out in pain when he begins squeezing my hands forcefully, giving me the sickening feeling that he is torturing me on purpose.
“Why does it hurt?” He interrogates me one last time-only this time his face is right next to mine, so I have no choice but to feel pressured into telling him what he wants to know.
“Because I hurt my hands weaving. The strings cut my fingers and-and…” I sniffle right before I start blubbering like a baby who’s just fallen for the first time. I feel my tears roll down my cheek and splash onto my wrist. That’s just what I wanted-more tears.
I don’t even know why I’m crying!
Why am I so scared? He was just asking me questions…
I don’t understand what’s going on!
“That’s all I needed to know.” Those words creep into my mind and haunt me that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the big man escorts me back to the room, red-puffy-eyed and all, I lose my freedom and before I know it, I’m trapped again. I feel too vulnerable and weak to even talk about it. Bethany tried her best, but I wouldn’t open up. I just needed to sleep. On the bright side, Bethany finished weaving the rest of my rugs while I was gone. So the rest of the day I just sat there, helping Bethany doing little things, like picking colors and cutting up strips to help her finish her chore. The day left as quickly as it came. Soon it was night. That night I couldn’t sleep. I could hardly even think. What happened in there was the only thing on my mind. I couldn’t help but replay those same words he said to me ‘that’s all I needed to know.’ It didn’t make sense. But one thing I knew for sure, it gave me a bad feeling and unlike last time-this time I knew to trust my instincts.
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Lost
Teen FictionLife is never perfect, that is something everyone learns. A certain little girl's life has lead her to believe that life is otherwise. This could be because her life is perfect and it stays that way for years, until the worst happens. In other words...
