Shadows - Kit Walker - Evan Peters - Bloody Face

One: Captive

My arms were tied above my head. Blood trickled down my wrists and along the sides of my bruised face. My ribs ached and my head throbbed. I was dirty and sweaty and had no more tears left to cry.

The only light outlined the metal door and the only thing I could hear was the sound of my own struggled breathing and sometimes the creak of footsteps above me.

My heart throttled against my chest when I heard heavy footsteps pound down the stair case. My stomach jumped into my throat and I wanted to vomit. He was coming. He was coming for me.

The footsteps stopped and I heard the string for the lightbulb overhead flicker on and I stared at the dirty shoes of my kidnapper. I don't remember how long I had been down here, but this was the first time he had turned on a light and I was terrified to see who he was. Slowly my eyes travelled up his body, his tight black jeans, his blood stained t-shirt, all the way up to his face. But I couldn't see who he was because he wore a strange mask.

"Please don't hurt me..." I whispered with every last ounce of strength. He moved forward in silence, grabbing my jaw with his calloused hand. His head turned as he stared at my face, my eyes squinting in the bright light. I could hear his heavy breathing.

And then he switched the lights out and I went unconscious from the terror that choked me. 

When I woke up he was sitting on a milk crate in front of me in the same clothes and mask, staring at me. I screamed and throttled my arms in fear, but I only hurt myself more. 

"Why are you staring at me!" I cried, my chest heaving. Why was he doing this to me?

He said nothing still, but got up and moved towards me with a water bottle in his hand. He grabbed the back of my head so gently, a breath of surprise escaped my throat. He tilted my head back and carefully poured water down my throat. The cool liquid filled my raw throat with a moment of relief. He set the half bottle of water down on a metal table and began to pace the room.

"Why don't you just killed me already?" I uttered, tired and aching. I didn't want to me tortured or raped or anything. I just wanted this to be over. I had no more fight left in me.

The man said nothing but shook his head as he paced, bringing his hands to his temples. Why wasn't he saying anything? Why wasn't he torturing me or killing me?

"I can't." He said in a low voice, throwing me off guard.