Dream Catch Me (Student/Teacher)

Dream Catch Me - Chapter Forty Seven

It was Monday. After he made me go to the bathroom upstairs, I was left alone. He hadn't come to see me for a whole two days, and the hunger was ripping my insides as I felt like my stomach was eating itself. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and now I could see small shapes of what little there was in the basement. All day Sunday, I paced around the basement, anticipating his arrival.

My cut was getting infected. God only knows what that knife had been used for, and I'd had rather not know. My over-imaginative mind was running wild with what it looked like in the light, oozing green goo and an angry red ring around the sides. I used my own salvia to clean it, spitting a small amount of my finger and rubbing it over the angry cut as I sucked in small breaths at the searing pain. Although, the pain I didn't mind. It reminded me that I was still alive, that the basement wasn't really where I went after I died.

I felt dead. The no light was really getting to me and made me head reel in fury. I felt like a prisoner abandoned to suffer in their own muck until I withered away when there wasn't anything left of me. I had heard Lewis leave this morning. I could tell it was the morning because I heard water running down a pipe inside the basement. I followed the sound and reached my hand out to touch it. It was warm beneath my frozen icicle fingers as I gripped it hard in my hand.

The short 10 minute shower went too fast, and the warmth it produced was gone within the next few minutes. It was as if Lewis had forgotten about me, going on with his daily routine without acknowledging he had a teenage girl trapped in his basement for his own pleasures. I shuddered at the thought of what happened only the other night, the attack, the knife and the blood. My dress was stiff with the blood dried to the fibres of my dress.

Sometimes I was thankful there was no light. Not being able to see abled me to be oblivious to what I was really living in. It allowed me to not see what a mess I was in and how disgusting I looked compared to what I was feeling. When I wasn't plotting about my unlikely escape, I thought of Joe.

I wondered if he was thinking of me, if he was coming to get me, and if he still loved me like he said before. If I ever got out of the basement, I would chase after Joe and never let him go. I wet back on this thought a thousand times before I made a bet with myself: If he saved me, I would go after him. If he didn't I wouldn't. Simple as that, I told myself. Or was it really?

-

Monday, I thought randomly as if the thought had been floating around the basement and I caught it just or fun. The time where Jaz, Fletch, Joe, Lewis and every other student in the country made their way back to school after the weekend. They'd be sitting in first period right now, probably biology. Ironic isn't it? To think that Jaz would be wondering where I was, but to not know that the reason would be standing at the front of her classroom teaching about cells.

I wondered of Joe had gone to work with me not being there. Don't be silly, I berated myself. You aren't that important. Great, I thought. Now you're talking to yourself. whole day I had been thinking aloud, finding my voice again after knowing Lewis had left the house. Also with him away from me, I sat up against the rough banister of the stairs on the bottom step and rested my eyes, catching enough sleep to keep my energy up.

Time went too slowly. There was nothing to do in the dank pit except pace, think, rest, pace and think some more. It came to a point where I wanted to scream because my head was so full of thoughts that I couldn't sort and comprehend. I was dying to know if someone was coming to save me. Who knew I was gone? Were they at least looking for me? Did anyone suspect it was Lewis? I reached that point, and I let out a guttural scream that didn't make me feel better, but only made my throat hurt and added to the pain I was already feeling.

I made my way over to the window again and again, letting myself soak up some of the light the spring sun was shining. I could feel the warmth on my face, yet wished I could feel the breeze through my hair like I could see the roses waving from their flower bed. After several attempt I knew it was pointless trying to catch the attention of passer-bys. They were far and few between and even them a majority of them were walkers or runners who had music plugged into their ears.

I had sat, paced, rested and thought a thousand times over before I heard the faint slam of the car door from outside above me. I immediately cowered into the far side of the basement, making sure I didn't corner myself into a situation I wouldn't be able to get out of. There were very few things I was scared of in the world, sharks, criminals and butterflies. Yet Mr Lewis dominated all of those petty fears with his tattoos, muscles and incredibly bad breath.

He wasted no time, from the moment I heard the door open and slam back hitting the wall, I knew what was coming. He flung open the basement door after unlocking it at an unusually fast pace. "Oh Petal!" he sung out. His voice made my skin crawl and my stomach squeeze in fear.

I stayed where I was, still as a statue against the cold stone walls. I had remembered to put the window paper back on so he couldn't' tell if I had been looking outside. "Oh there you are!" he spoke with sarcastic happiness dripping from his voice. Lewis walked over to me and unexpectedly grabbed my chin, yanking it up demanding I look him in the eyes. "You're looking a bit pale today. Here," he said and produced a muesli bar from his pocket.

I made no effort to try reach out and grab it, so he threw it carelessly across the room, not bothering to see where it landed. "Come on," he said and grabbed my bad wrist and pulling it. I hissed in pain and pulled it back towards me protectively. He didn't care for my well being, just if I was looking to pale. He didn't care for me, he just wanted to use me. Mr Lewis glared at me for pulling away, but went to grab my other wrist and continued to pull me. When I realised he was taking me up the stairs and not down onto the mattress I eagerly followed him,not struggling or pulling away.

He chuckled at my eagerness, and muttered something I couldn't hear under his breath. I had to squeeze my eyes almost shut when he dragged me ut of the basement and into the light of his house. Lewis had done this once before, but I was in too much pain from my cut to fully understand what was happening, I was too delirious. But this time,I was fully aware.

I noticed the slightly feminine floral curtains hanging from him open plan lounge's windows. I noticed how everything was neat and tidy, not a pillow out of place, or a magazine left open. He continued to drag me up the stairs by my arm as I frantically looked around for every single detail I noticed, imprinting it into my brain.

We reached the top of the stairs and he ushered me into a bathroom. "Go," he ordered and motioned towards the toilet. I was angry at being treated like a dog, but was considering how much longer I could hold on for down in the it of the house. Lewis didn't give me the chance to decide for myself, demanding once again I go. I glared at him as a warning.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll wait out here!" He stomped out of the small bathroom and stood outside the door with his back facing me, yet he neglected to close the door. "GO!" He shouted, and I watched as he crossed his arms and tapped his foot against the floor impatiently. I took his advice and sat down on the toilet. As I followed his commands I looked around the bathroom, first at the mirror. Seeing myself in the mirror was a shock. Knowing that the frail, dirty and weak person who was reflected was me. The cut from his knife stretched from the base of my ear, all teh way down in front of my neck and ended in the middle of my chest, below the neckline of my dress.

It glowed an angry red, the signs of an infection. I finished up and went o wash my hands as if it was automatic and I didn't think twice about it. As I carelessly washed y hands, I spotted his shaving razor perched in a holder. It was only a few inches from me. The blade sparkled at me, as if inviting for me to take it.

I took it. I snatched it up quickly with my hands and shoved it down the front of my dress where I felt it settle in my bra. "that's it," Lewis called from the doorway and turned around. He took a threatening step towards me and immediately snatched up my wrists, gripping it hard to prevent my escape. Mr Lewis started to drag me back down the stairs.

The razor sat in my dress, and the anticipation to finally get my hands on it and use it made it feel as if it were burning against my skin. As we passed the front door and kitchen, I mapped out an escape route for when the time came. Lewis dragged me back down the basement stairs, back into the cold dampness. He pushed me forward off the bottom stair and I stumbled, loosing my footing. I landed on my knees on the cold floor.

Mr Lewis chuckled, amused at my fall. "Night Petal! Don't let the bed bugs bite!" He chuckled to himself again, while sprinting up the stairs two at a time. Before I knew it the basement was plunged back into darkness and I was left crouching on my knees against the frozen concrete for yet another night.

But this time, I had something to do. I reached down into my dress to find the razor, but came up empty. Where had it gone? When Lewis had pushed me, and I stumbled to my knees it must've fallen out and clattered to the ground somewhere. I failed to notice where,or even hear the plastic razor scatter away from me. I used bth of my hands, ignoring my broken wrist as the need to find that razor burned within me, almost more than my need for Joe.

I patted desperately against the ground in circles around my knees. Every second and every sweep of my hands that I didn't find it, I came closer to giving up. The floor was quite big in the basement, and I knew it could've taken me all night to find that razor. I persisted, insiting to myself that it could be the key to getting outand making my escape.

I felt time pass me in a daze, barely noticing it as I fet around the cold floor. In not time at all, my hands became numb from the sheet of ice that lay beneath me. I sighed, standing up and stretching out the knots that had formed in my back. I raised my hands as high above me as I could, but suddenly had an idea.

I didn' know why I didn't think of it before, and I berated myself because of it. I reached up as high as I could and swept my arm around in a circle, searching for the cord that would turn the light on when I pulled it. I walked over to where I thought I knew it was and reached up. Perhaps I was too short, I thought to myself.

I became desperate and the only way I was going to reach that cord, was if I grew at least another two inches taller. 'Desperate times call for desperate needs, and now is one of them,' I mumbled under my breath. I walked over to where I knew the mattress was and dragged it across the concrete floor until I had positioned it correctly, but only based on my memory.

I tentatively stood on it, and the hard mattress sunk on a small bit as i put all of my weight on it. I tried to ignore the thought of the blood, some stranger's mixed with my own that had saturated the mattress and dried in the middle. I reached up again and swung my arms around, hoping, even praying for the cord the be in my hand. As if my prayers had been answered, the of the end of the cord tickled the inside of my palm. I almost sung out in happiness, btu wasted no time. I pulled on it hard and I was blinded by the bright bulb as it shone from directly above me.

I waited until the strange bulb shape that had been left in my vision had cleared before I searched around the room for the razor I refused to look down at the mattress as I stepped off it and glanced around the room for the small razor. I spotted it after a few seconds of frantic searching. It sat upright against wall beneath the window and it's end was pointing at an angle, like it was trying to tell me something about outside about how it would be my ticket to freedom.

I stumbled over to it and picked it up, holding it in my palm and inspecting it under the light. The blade sparkled once again, inviting. It was asking to be used.

And that's what I had planned to do.