Set Me Free

"Don't leave me."

"Without suffering, there'd be no compassion."

I was humiliated.

I was still sitting on the floor, Daniel's arms were still wrapped around me and I was embarrassed.

I had never had an attack like that before. My body was shutting down on me, betraying me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't stop it.

But Daniel stopped it.

His lips on my neck brought the air back to me lungs, it dulled the panic. Somehow his presence, his touch healed me.

I wasn't ready to let that go.

I was embarrassed and humiliated and terrified of the feeling I had within me, but I wasn't letting go. I was clinging on tighter, pulling him to me like a life jacket, the only thing keeping me in touch with reality. For some unknown reason, I felt safe with him here.

That shouldn't be happening.

He wasn't like the men that had captured me but he was still one of them. He was apart of this and I knew that letting him hold me, wanting him to keep his lips resting on my neck was a stupid idea, but I couldn't let go. I needed him here. For better or for worse, we were in this together now.

"You'll get out of this," he whispers against my neck, each word blows a soft breeze that makes me shiver, "I'm going to make sure of it."

I knew he meant it, he believed that I could escape here. However, I always tried to look at things realistically. Realistically, there was no way out. I would be here until they didn't need me. We had no say in my possible release, I was a prisoner until they told me I was no longer one.

"Have they given my tape to my father," I ask, my thoughts drifting to the man who had sealed my fate.

"Yes, they sent it to him. He would have it by now."

I think about this for a second. My father knows about my capture and knows the terms of my release. Whether he will be able to achieve this is unknown, however it is extremely unlikely. I've never known someone to have that much money and my father most certainly doesn't.

I wonder if he's told anyone about what's happened to me, if my mother is worrying. My mother was always the strong one in the family, but the knowledge of why I haven't returned home would destroy her. She would urge my father to go to the police, I don't believe he would.

Him walking into a police station would present a large bullseye on his back. He would be arrested for his involvement in the drug dealing business, I didn't believe he was ready to sacrifice himself like that. I knew my father loved me, cared for me and would want to protect me. I didn't believe he would give away his freedom to achieve this.

My father had walked out on my mother and I when I was just baby, left us to fend for ourselves all to live a life of crime and cheap thrills. My father was no hero, he wasn't about to save the day.

I was going to have to save myself.

"Do you ever leave here?" I ask, wondering if there was maybe some way I could sneak out with Daniel.

Suddenly, Daniels whole body goes stiff. He suck in a deep, sharp breath against my neck and clenches onto my t shirt with his fists. My question has taken him by surprise and something tells me he is terrified of answering.

"No, I don't." He finally whispers. Now it's my time to gasp. Daniel is a prisoner too.

I pull away gently to look into his eyes, he lets me. There, I see all the misery, the fear, that must be in my eyes every time he looks at me.

"Why?" I ask, scared of knowing the answer.

"Because I'm just as much of a prisoner as you," he sighs in defeat.

Then it dawns on me. He isn't one of the bad guys, he's a victim, who like me, has been stripped of his free will. Except the stakes are higher for him, it's his own father that is keeping him captive. He can't escape because for him it's personal, for him it's family.

I suppose we have that in common, our father's have ruined our lives.

We sit in silence for a while, thinking over our imprisonments.

"How long have you been here?" I ask after a while. Both of us are still sat on the floor, I'm still wrapped in his arms.

"Ever since my mum died when I was fifteen. It's been about six years now," he admits. Six years of being captive is a long time, I can only hope that they don't treat him as badly as one.

"Is that when you became apart of the family business if it were?"

"Yeah I guess it was. It started small, I would make sandwiches for people or take out bags of rubbish to the bin. Little did I know I was feeding our prisoners and disposing of weapons. Slowly, my tasks became more involved, like packaging the drugs, supervising the captives, cleaning the crime scenes," he shudders as he says this, as if the pure thought of it has caused him to cringe. His upbringing has been dangerous, damaging. I'm surprised he's still here, capable of being close to anyone.

"What was she like?" I finally find the courage to ask, "your mother?"

He pulls back to look at me once again, his eyes showing unshed tears at the thought of her. I want to take my question back, to take away the unbearable pain I can see, but after a second he slowly smiles and I can see he wants to tell me.

"She was beautiful, inside and out. She used to bake cookies for me when I was sad, wrap me in blankets when I was ill, hold me close when I was scared. She was everything a mother should be and so much more. Every day I miss her, miss her laugh and her stories and her need for adventure. She used to take me on these road trips," Daniels smile grows as he tells me this, "adventures she called them. We used to go to little towns to see what we could find, she would always tell me that the best treasures were where you least expected to find them. She could find beauty in anything, even my father."

He looks lost now, as if he doesn't know whether he should tell me the next part of the story.

"He got her killed," he tells me,"someone was looking to extract revenge in the same way my father does and used my mother as bait. She was shot. That was when I came here, my father told me that I was his responsibility now and that I had to start earning my keep. I've been here ever since."

Having an insight into Daniel's life is unnerving to me. I see him clearer, as a victim of fate. He had no desire to be here, no need to be apart of something so horrific and yet here he was. I guess sometimes the worst things really do happen to the most innocent of people.

"I'm so sorry," I finally say. I knew that there was nothing I could do to make his situation better, nothing I could say to make it hurt any less, but I could at least try.

Leaning down, I place a gentle kiss on his cheek, just below his cheek bone. He takes a sharp breathe as my lips make contact, almost as if he didn't spend the last half an hour with is locked onto my neck. But this feels different somehow, more personal.

I pull away, slightly embarrassed by my brass action.

"No," he stops me, "don't move away, please don't move away."

And then his lips are on mine.

They're urgent and desperate and full of passion. He wrestles with my mouth as if he is trying to devour my soul, as if he is trying to contact with it. I fight back just as hard, just as desperately. He is my only comfort in this world of pain and I need him now more than I've ever needed anymore.

Gently, he peels his lips away, resting his forehead onto mine.

"Please," he pleads, "don't leave me."