In Someone Else's Hands

Chapter 1 - Phil

**trigger warning**
"Stay quiet in there. Got it?" The man said to me, pushing my into the trunk of his car. I listened to what he said, watching the gun in his hand intently with fear. I tried my best to steady my breathing, trying to finally grasp the situation. "Now I don't want you breaking free, so I think you know where this is going." He laughed and pulled a rope out of his pocket and wrapped it tightly around my hands. He also tied my feet together, laughing as I tried to kick free. He hesitated, pointing the gun towards me and looking around at his surroundings. He thought to himself, then put the gun back into his jacket and slammed the trunk closed, making me jump from how loud it was. There was a small amount of light coming into the trunk and it shined on my face. I felt the car jolt to a start and it drove away from the alley he dragged me into. I felt tears roll down my face as my breathing quickened. The car ride was bumpy and after the 2 hour long car ride, it finally stopped. I knew I would have to face my captor again, and my breathes and thoughts sped up at this thought. The trunk opened and it was dark outside, and we seemed to be in an old, outdated house. He untied my feet and grabbed me by my shirt collar. He ripped me out of the trunk and threw me to the ground, dirt getting onto my dark green jumper. He put a gun up to my head, making me flinch once I felt the cold metal make contact with my head. I made a small, scared squeak, making him laugh, pushing the gun harder against my head to mess with me. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt more tears come, faster than they ever had. "Get up." The man growled, resting his forefinger on the trigger. I did my best to stand as fast as I could and he pushed me towards the door, me basically tripping over my feet every step I took. He began to kick my legs, getting annoyed at how clumsy I was. He grabbed me by the shirt collar and dragged me inside, kicking me through the front door.
The house was relatively nice, considering the fact that it belonged to a kidnapper. He dragged me up the stairs, me trying my best not to fall over. He turned right and opened one of the doors from a double door. He threw me into the room and slammed the door, locking it behind him. It was completely empty except for a king sized bed with only a mattress and no covers, a security camera, and a TV. I stood up and walked to the large window and sat down on the bench running along it. The only view was a hill covered in ivy and a old fence. I sighed, facing the fact no one would find me. I stood up and wandered around the carpeted room, my shoes getting some mud on it. There was a small closet and a bathroom, both of them surprisingly clean. I jumped, and made a frightened squeal as the old tv turned on, static filling the room. My captor's face suddenly filled the monitor, laughing. "Don't be scared, little lamb; come into view." I slowly crept to the bed, sitting down so I was facing the camera. "There we go." He smiled. "So, you might be wondering why you're here." I nodded my head slowly and he chuckled, looking at me as if he was little boy finding candy. "I need some extra cash and some people need something extra if you know what I mean." He laughed, the noise filling the room. I waited silently, thinking of what he could mean. "You can speak, little lamb."
"W-What do you mean 'something extra?'" I asked, my voice shaky from crying.
"Well, some people need someone to do work, and some are looking for some fun." He roared with laughter when he read my terrified expression.
"I-I'm only 15.." I said quietly, looking down at my shaking hands. I felt a tear roll down my cheek for the hundredth time that day and my black fringe fell into my face.
"Exactly." He smiled like a madman. "Now, You probably want those binds off, so I can do that for you. You'll get food once a day, dinner, but I'll make sure it's a full meal. If you're good, you get to stay in this room, if not, I'll put you in that small closet by the sink. I don't have too many other rules, just don't make a fuss. Goodnight, little lamb." He winked at me, and then his face disappeared, the tv returning to static. I turned it off, the noise unsettling me, but the quiet unsettling me more. My hands were still shaking, and I tried to calm them down by picking at the dead skin and calluses on my fingers. I heard footsteps from outside of the room and the door click unlocked.

I couldn't move from fear and I was shaking more violently than I ever had before. He opened the door and tossed a pair of scissors inside and slammed the door shut, locking it again. I rushed for the scissors and tried to grab them with my bound hands. I turned them around and did my best at cutting the rope with one hand and successfully getting myself free. I quickly threw the ropes across the room, not wanting to look at them again. I put the scissors next to the sink, and noticed a small note from under the door once I walked back to where the bed was. I picked it up and saw there was writing on it in messy handwriting and a small drawing under it.
Do what you want w/ those scissors ;) I know they're your favourite. Under the writing there were two parallel lines with messy lines going across them, and I soon realised they were cuts on a wrist.

I dropped the note and began to bawl, wondering how he knew and why he had to remind me. I bit my hand to try and muffle the ridiculous noises I was making from crying, and eventually buried my face into the bed. I took my jacket off, hanging it on the coat rack behind the door, and looked down at my white illuminati shirt and my black skinny jeans, which now had a hole on one knee. I turned his wrists over, showing my pale skin stained with red. My wrists were ruined and shredded and filled with red lines, some old, some new. I looked over at the scissors and sighed, walking up to them, still crying like a baby. I picked them up and opened them, grabbing it by the blade. I brought my left wrist up, the one with the most scars. I dug the blade into my wrist and sliced down, blood seeping out of the wound. I quickly sliced across my wrist, even more blood coming out. I kept crying and released all emotions into my blade, and taking it out on my skin. I added cuts to my right wrist and my shoulders, but none of them bleeding as much as my left wrist, which was still bleedingー a lot. I realised I had nowhere left to ruin, and cried, seeing the damage I had done to myself. I looked down at my left wrist and added even more cuts, nothing fatal though. I sat on the bathroom tile crying for a good half hour, blood dripping onto my white, illuminati shirt and onto the clean tile. I had fell asleep for 5 minutes and was woken up from feeling a warm, thick liquid pressed against my thigh. I looked down and saw my wrist was still bleeding and frantically looked for a bandage. I found Ace bandages, neosporin, a box of plasters, some sheets of cotton (for bleeding wounds) and medical tape. I wrapped the cotton around my wrist and cut it with the scissors, blood getting on the cotton. Then I secured it with medical tape. I kicked the counter when I realised I forgot to put neosporin and cried even more. I decided not to put anything on my other cuts, and only cleaned them up with I towel I found in the bathroom.

I slowly brought my shirt over my head, sighing because I got blood on one of my favourite T-shirts. I crawled onto the stiff mattress and went to sleep, all of my tears from the day tiring me out.