stockholm syndrome - tracob

three

Troye opened his eyes slowly. How much time had passed? A dull aching in his arms which was making him feel very uncomfortable indicated he had been there for quite some time. He found that his hands were still bound behind him and that the nice, comfy couch was gone. Instead he was now strapped onto a wooden chair. Troye sighed. His situation had unmistakably worsened.

Instead of sitting in a nice warm room with a table and magazines, he now seemed to be in an abandoned building. In the right corner he saw something that seemed like a disgusting grey toilet without a lid, from which Troye was almost certain that the original colour had been white. When he tried to look behind him he saw a mattress laying in the corner along the wall where the toilet was. Swallowing, and trying not to think about what it meant that they had gone through the trouble to get a toilet and a mattress here for him, he studied the rest of the room.

There was a door in the left corner of the room, and the floor was concrete and cold. Luckily they had given him his jacket back – of course with empty pockets, as the familiar weight of his phone and notebook were missing. The walls weren't plastered; he could see the stones crumble. Troye tried if he could get his arms loose but the ropes wouldn't budge. Unfortunately, whoever had tied him up had done a good job. Would shouting work? Who knows, maybe someone will come in and give me some food and something to drink, he thought. While drugging me again with it.

Whatever. He needed to eat and drink, he couldn't starve himself because he was afraid his food would be poisoned. Besides, what use would he be to them if he was dead? They wouldn't poison him, he figured. So, might as well shout. He took a deep breath, and then exhaled again.

Wait.

What if he made them angry by shouting and they would hurt him? What if they would gag him or something because they didn't want him to make any sound?

Then again, what if there was someone around here who could help him? He nodded, took a deep breath again, opened his mouth... And exhaled once more as he heard the door click out of its lock and saw it open. "Room service," a voice mocked. The same guy as before came in, carrying a tray with a glass of orange juice and a sandwich on a plate. Troye glared at him. "Geez don't worry, it's not drugged or something."

Troye huffed. "So, you're the maid huh? Why can't the real bad guy come out and face me?" In his mind he smacked himself on his forehead. Why would he taunt him like that? This guy was dangerous, he might even be carrying a gun! He had already drugged him, who said he wasn't going to be very upset at Troye's salty comeback and maybe hit him in the head with the tray he was holding?

Okay, okay, breathe Troye, breathe and relax. Everything's cool. He doesn't seem pissed. It's okay. Breathe, he thought to himself.

"Pffff, that 'real bad guy' you're talking about is busy doing 'real bad guy' important stuff. And secondly, I am not a fucking maid," the guy replied. The last few words were emphasized, as if Troye had hit a sensitive spot there.

"You made my finger bleed you know, when you dropped that glass. It hurts," Troye said. Again, he wanted to smack himself on the forehead. Good job, show them what a weak little guy you are! Why don't you go crying about missing your mum too, huh? his own thoughts mocked him. The other guy just rolled his eyes.

"Too bad for you mate. Now, you want to eat or just chit chat?" he said as he put down the plate and took the sandwich.

"Fine. Whatever you gave me made me quite thirsty," Troye admitted. Then he bit his tongue. Don't fucking show weakness! He half expected the guy to cut him loose, but instead he switched the sandwich he was holding for the glass of orange juice and put it at Troye's lips, just as he had done before. Troye drank gratefully, although he had preferred to take the glass himself. He figured he'd have to gain a bit of trust of this guy before he would let him loose. Hah, hear me thinking all rationally in this completely irrational situation. Gain my kidnappers trust? In what world do I live?