Stockholm Syndrome

sept

seven | lesley

     She sighed, sitting back down on the bed that was provided for her. There was no use in trying anymore; there was no way on earth she'd be able to open that door. She hoped someone was looking for her. She didn't know how long she could stand being trapped and isolated. She laid back on the bed, the stinging in her eyes caused by the tears that threatened to spill was now a normal feeling, yet she didn't dare shed a tear. Her dad always said, "don't ever let anyone know they hurt you. Just smile at them and walk away. That'll piss them off even more." Except she couldn't just walk away. She was trapped. And although she wanted nothing more than to piss off her captor, she knew that'd be a horrid idea.
     Suddenly, there was a rattle of the doorknob and Lesley found herself backing up into the bed. Her heart rate fastened incredibly fast and her mouth went dry.
     "Shit," she heard the person on the other side curse, "shit, shit, shit!"
     In curiosity, the teenage girl picked herself up, tiptoeing towards the door to hear better.
     "What the fuck- What the fuck did I do?!" The voice shook. "I'm fucked. God, I'm so fucked!" She heard his heavy breathing and even past the door she still felt the loud thud of his pumping heart bang in her ears. "What the hell am I going to do?! I'm fucked; I'm fucked!" Whomever it was that was behind that door surely was beating himself up as the fact that he had actually kidnapped someone without even remembering it. Lesley would've even felt bad for him if it wasn't her that was trapped in that room. The unknown person took a deep breath before Lesley felt the door move forward and bounced back instantly. But what she saw before her made her eyes blur. For as before her eyes, standing shirtless and in dangerously low-hanging shorts, was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.