Birth From The Waist

Chapter 11

“Alyssa come back you fucking bitch”, he screams. Taking no notice of I continue my plan. Exiting the room and closing the door behind me hoping to buy me a few seconds I am forked in a corridor. That hallway stretched from my left to my right rooms at both ends. The floor was carpeted with white and grey shag fur, the mirrors mounted on walls, and China vases stood out eloquently with the Venetian like furniture. There in it physical form was a stair case diagonally opposite me, my track to freedom. I quickly run to the case hearing the door slam open banging against the wall, shit! He was coming. Bolting down the stairs taking two steps at a time I tremble and fall down rolling. Only some steps left till the bottom of the case, I was hurt and exhausted. I look up to the top of the stair case and see him standing there an angry look drawn on to this face, standing up I continue down the stairs in bid of departing this  hellhole. He jumps of the first plight the area that looks down onto the stair case almost three metres high. He lands right behind me in a squatting position, my mouth drops open. Nothing, he wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t injured, he wasn’t affected for that matter, and it’s as if he’d taken a leap from his bed. I reach the bottom step and he right on my trail. My right foot lands on the floor, the wooden surface cold under my feet, before my left foot makes contact with the ground it’s dragged back violently, my body plunged forward, my head making force with the ground, he turns me over and I fight, kicking, screaming and even clawing for that matter. He’s crouches on top of me; his knees separated, one on each side, he grabs my hands attempting to tame me. I continue to fighting, I couldn’t let him do anything.

“Leave me alone you son of a bitch,” I hiss.

“Alyssa, stop fighting you’re going to hurt yourself, relax I’m not going to hurt you”, he says.

He uses full force the nothing compared to my witty strength. He controls my arms and presses them together like a mummified Egyptian pharaoh.

“Stop”, he yells.

I give up, there was no point of fighting, I couldn’t, I’d waste my time and energy in the process. I turn my head to the side, I begin to cry, tears flooding my face, the door was just over a metre away, my gateway to freedom.

He grabs my face softly and turns it in his direction, my face directly in his, I attempt to the turn my face but he stops me, turning my eyes to look in another direction he applies pressure causing me to look at him in the eyes. He stares down at me, a serious look.

“Guess what, the door was unlocked”, he reveals

I cry knowing that was my only chance of freedom, I was stuck with him, and it was indefinite.

He picks up over his shoulder; I let him carry me as if I were a carcass, lifeless. He sits me down in a chair, the rooms he places me in is none other than his kitchen. Placing both my arms on the chair arms he tapes them down with masking take making sure to circle on thick layers. He opens the microwave to pull out a bowl. I pretend not to notice, my inattention leads me to look at the wall, there on the crude analogue device reads 12:15 PM. He walks over to me, a delicious smell fills the kitchen, pulling up a chair he sits directly opposite bowl and spoon in hand. I take notice of the plate and the delicious aroma it sends, creamy alfredo pasta a favourite of mine.

He takes a spoon of it. “Eat”.

“No”, I answer.

“What do you mean no”, you’ll starve.

“I don’t care if I’ll starve, that not my main concern”, I say dryly.

“You’ll die, and I can’t have you dying, I need you,” he says sympathetic.

“I don’t care, I rather die than be with you, I’d rather kill myself actually,” I say angered.

“No,” he screams. “No nothing will happen to you, I’ll make sure of it”. “Now eat”.

“No,” I state daringly.

“Fine, we’ll have it my way,” he says intimidating.

He lifts up out of his seat swiftly frightening me, I flinch in anticipation. He pinches me my nose; intentionally blocking my air supply. He chuckles.

“I’d like to see you breathe now”, he says a smile on his face.

I try to hold my breath for as long as I could, I fail, my mouth drops open in retrieval for air, he uses this time to quickly shovel down a spoon of pasta, he quickly closes my mouth causing me to chew and swallow.

I look at him, anger in my eyes, with hatred in my soul. He shoves in another spoon this time I allow him. I stare at him, chewing very slowly, a smile forms on his face; a reward for his hard duties. He tilts his head slowly admiring the way I consume the pasta. He moves in closer, I use this to my advantage and spit all the mashed up pasta from my mouth directly onto his face, he flinches back and quickly wipes his face. He lifts his arm hesitantly; dread consumed me as I saw the fiery on his face, his body shaking with anger, I could see he was going to do something to me, something unorthodox. But he relaxes and his drops his arm, I sigh in relief.

He grabs hold of my chair, and turns me into the table, he walks over to the draw and pulls out a large knife, my heart races and fear spreads to every corner of my body, he lowers the knife to my arms fearing that he’ll cut me. He hovers over my right wrist, and cuts the tape holding it down.

“Eat on your own, you have five minutes”, he demands.

He leaves the kitchen; I glance around, no hope of escape. I look down at the food, my stomach rumbles almost painfully. I pick up the spoon and eat, indulging in rich meal.

He comes in and sees that I’ve eaten, a smile sits temporarily on his face then disappears instantly. I wasn’t going to let him drag me back to that bedroom, I couldn’t. He just roamed the kitchen picking up my dish and washing it. He was awfully quiet, I was suspicious, he was up to something.

The kitchen was ultra-modern it was composed of a dark chocolate wood that was part of the cupboards, the dishwasher and fridge were all stainless steel, the bench tops were black laminate. Judging by his home decor his was wealthy. I didn’t have enough time to dwell in analysis world till a sharp stabbing pain pierced my stomach, I gasped. I looked back at him drinking water from a bottle looking down at me expecting this to happen. The food! He did something to the food. I felt a heavy buzz travel from my right arms to the my brain, I was becoming drowsy, the world around me turning as I swayed back and forth in my chair losing balance of my upper body. I had answered my own question, he knew I would fight if he was to take me upstairs to the bedroom but if he had drugged me; lugging me is a much easier task.