Stockholm Syndrome

six

six | declan

     He woke up to a headache. The memories of the night before flashing in his head. He vividly remembered a girl. But it wasn't same old Catherine. It was another girl. But who? He thought of his dream. It had seemed awfully real. Him kidnapping an unknown girl and bringing her back to his basement. His friends coming over with Catherine drunk as ever. Him almost getting caught. The boys telling him Catherine had a thing for him after convincing her to leave. He chuckled at his crazy imagination, rolling his eyes.
     He got up, pushing the duvet covers off of his body and pulling on some random shorts off the floor before finally grabbing his phone. He walked to the kitchen, shirtless and praying to God that he had some penicillin and Froot Loops. He opened the cupboard, pulling out a glass and filling it with milk, and then pulling open a drawer took two tablets of the medicine for his headache before pouring himself some cereal. He didn't know what his headache was from. He absolutely remembered nothing of the night before. He starred off, munching on his cereal peacefully. That is, until his phone dinged and scared him out of his skin. He picked up the phone and there on the lock screen was something that made his heart almost stop, and he had to look at the phone once more to make sure he was seeing right. There, on the screen, was something he couldn't comprehend; he didn't want to comprehend. His phone dinged once more, signalizing it had been to whole two minutes since it was received. And there was Declan: scared out of his mind to check and see the exact same thing he had seen only two minutes before. Finally, the young lad gathered up all his courage and opened the phone. It read:

Cat😸
hey, dec. is our hangout still on? 🙃

His face was drained of all its color and his hands were trembling. Without a second to comprehend what he was doing, Declan ran down his stairs to the basement only to find the guest room downstairs to have been locked.

a/n:
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