Hostage

Seven

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, they all morphed into one long blur in the dark pit that encased Allison. How long had it been? A week? Two? Were people looking for her? She knew the odds of anyone finding her here, in the middle of nowhere, were slim.

The only moments she had to look forward to in this endless eternity of solitude were her short encounters with the tall,  green-eyed boy. He would bring her the small meals she was allowed two, maybe three, times a day and take her on her allotted bathroom trips twice a day.

She thought back to the first time she was allowed upstairs. It was the same day the mysterious boy had first brought her breakfast.

This time, he came down the latter baring a plate with one piece of grilled chicken and a cup of sticky, white instant rice. And instead of placing it on the floor in front of her, he reached out a long arm and placed in her hands. When he did this, his t-shirt sleeve shifted revealing the edges of a tattoo inked on his umber skin. It looked like numbers, however, the marking was covered again when he straitened and he reached into the back pocket of his dark wash jeans. He pulled out a plastic knife and fork. Olive green eyes flicked quickly to hers, and a trace of a smile pulled at his full lips.

He said nothing to her while she ate, like that morning, but this time something in the stagnant cellar air was different.

When she'd finished, he took her plate and utensils, but before he could leave her alone in the jail, she spoke out.

"I have to use the bathroom."

He turned and looked at her, shackled and helpless on the cement floor.

"Please," she asked quietly, "I can't stay down here forever without peeing or showering."

He listened to her request and nodded wordlessly before climbing the latter and disappearing. She could hear voices upstairs faintly before the wooden door creaked open and the dark-skinned, light-eyed boy slipped into the basement again.

He held a shiny, silver object in his hands, and when he approached her, she recognized them as handcuffs.

"Really? I can't even go to the bathroom without being chained like a dog?"

She couldn't help her snide comment, even throughout her childhood she'd had a big mouth. It had always gotten her into trouble, and she wondered if she'd pay for it now as well.

Instead of anger though, a different emotion painted his features, empathy.

"This is the best I could do," his solemn eyes glanced at the metal in his hands. 

His apologetic tone took her by surprise and she nodded, standing and lifting her hands out in surrender. It was better than the zip tie. 

The metal was cold and hard against her tender skin but he clasped it with care, keeping it as loose as possible. Tucking away the handcuff keys, he pulled another key from his pocket. Bending down, he unlocked the thick shackle on her ankle revealing raw, red skin underneath. He paused and brushed a finger gently over the chafed wound. His touch was warm, and she shivered when it came in contact with her.

As if broken from a trance, the boy stood up quickly.

"Listen," he started, his tone urgent, "Don't do anything stupid. For your sake. I don't want to have to hurt you." 

His voice dripped with sincerity and his hazel eyes were pleading.

Allison's brows furrowed as she tried to understand this strange man.

They stared in silence for a moment before she spoke out in a soft questioning voice, "Why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer her, instead shifting his gaze to the floor, an inexplicable expression on his face.

Another moment passed before he looked up again, "Come on."

He moved behind her and placed his hands on either arms, guiding her gently towards the latter.

She was about to grab the metal rings when she paused and tuned her neck to look at the boy looming behind her. His boyish features looked almost out of place on his tall, masculine frame.

"I don't know your name." 

The statement seemed arbitrary and silly to her immediately after she'd said it. Like they were strangers meeting at a bar and not a captor and captive in a musty old basement.

Nevertheless, the replied, "You can call me Jax."

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Thanks for reading, if you liked this chapter please comment and vote! I'd love to hear your opinions on the budding relationship between Allison and Jax :)))