Sprawled out across the mattress, I feel the slight breeze coming through the window. My throat is hoarse from dehydration and I haven't said a single word in days. Surprisingly, just me and my thoughts are entertaining enough. I think about my friends. I didn't realize how much I really do need them until they're gone. But, the strange part is, they aren't the ones who are gone. I am.
A few hours ago, I heard the door open. I remember climbing over to the window and seeing him leave in a strange car. I'm not sure why I just layed back down. It's as if I'm a beaten down horse who doesn't have any fight left. I was told not to leave, so I didn't. Eventually, I hear tires on gravel again. Deciding not to get up and risk being seen, I lay as still as possible and just listen.
I pick up footsteps coming up the walkway. The door opens and I tense a little. Convincing myself to relax, I try to continue gathering information. I hear things being set down, and then the door opens again. Is there another person here? I get frantic and lurch upright. Dashing to the door, I try to lock it, forgetting the locks are controlled from the outside. I stride over to the window, placing my fingertips on the cement, careful to avoid broken glass.
Cautiously, I peer out. Relief washes over me as I realize he just went back outside. I pad back over to my hellhole, trying to remain quiet after all the noise I just made. I sit back down, but I'm still more alert. The door opens and closes one last time. I wait for the next movement and I'm shocked when I hear someone coming down the hallway.
Holding my breath, I stiffen, preparing for him to burst in. But, the noise just continues down the hallway. I refuse to let my guard down, remaining attentive. The door to what I've determined is the bathroom opens. I hear the tub turn on and panic flushes through my body. The last memory I have from my house took place in a tub. I slowly get up from the cushion and tiptoe to the door. Placing the side of my head against the door, I listen for any other movement. Then, the water pressure lessens, and the shower head turns on.
I hear the door shut and slowly realize that I'm not involved in this particular scenario. I exhale, realizing I was holding my breath. Suddenly, a flicker of doubt crosses my mind. I flash back to the last time he came here. I don't remember the familiar click of the lock. My hand travels to the knob, slowly and gently pushing down on it. To my shock, it moves. I turn it slowly, gently prying the door open. My footsteps light, I never let my guard down, listening for the moment the water shuts off.
Walking over to the right, I see what has been the kitchen this whole time. Multiple grocery bags sit on the counter. I glance behind my shoulder, towards the hallway. Turning back forward, it suddenly seems I'm on a mission. As quietly as possible, I peek inside one of the bags. I start looking through the products picked out. I'm a little confused by some of them. But, I'm too distracted by the food sitting right in front of me, all for the taking. I listened intently for the water pressure to falter. It seemed consistent, so I took a chance. I rummaged through the first bag and my hand lies on an apple. I picked it out of the bag and looked at it with amazement. I didn't even notice how much I need something to drink. The water stream seemed normal so I took a large bite out of the apple. It was heavenly. The juice streamed down my throat.
The world around me seemed to melt away. All I could concentrate on was how much I craved this apple. I took another bite, savoring the taste. Continuing to revel in the chance to eat fresh food, I let my guard down. I don't notice the water stop. There's two minutes of silence that I had blocked out. Suddenly, as I take another bite, the door flies open. I whirl around, the apple still in my hand. My hand goes limp, and the fruit falls to the floor. My whole body is numb as he peers at me from the bathroom door.
"What are you doing?" he says in a harsh voice. "You were given direct orders not to leave your cell-- I-I mean room. Were my orders not clear to you?" I take a step back out of fear, and my heel sends the apple rolling. He walks forward briskly, rage flashing in his eyes. Bending down, he picks up the delicacy, holding it up angrily. "So, you're stealing, too?" I force myself to swallow the previous bite, though I have no intention of speaking.
"Answer me!" he screams. He throws the apple down and juice spurts out everywhere. He grabs my wrist and I gasp. It's the first sound I've made in days. I don't even recognize it. His grasp is tight and I barely even try to struggle. My wrist turns completely white and I can feel the blood draining from it. But suddenly, his clutch loosens and he drops my wrist. I take a few small steps back.
"J-Just don't do it again, okay?" he asks, avoiding eye contact from me. He runs his towel through his hair as he gazes at the floor. 'G-Go back to your r-room." I take the opportunity as soon as he says it and dash down the hall. Rushing into my room, I slam the door behind me. It's the closest I'd get to yelling back. I fall onto my bed and collapse. I am exhausted from the lack of food and water. I was so close to getting a decent snack, I think to myself. I picture the apple juice flowing down my chin as I take another bite. Stop I say to myself. Don't torture yourself with the thought of something that you know you can't have.
I bury my head in my hands, not wanting to believe any of this is real. I hear a pounding on the door, and I jump. He throws the door open, knowing I won't respond to a knock. "You're too identifiable. Nobody has hair like that. I bought dye at the store. No, you don't have a choice." He stomps out, leaving the door ajar. I hear him grabbing something off the counter, and starts coming back this way. "Well? Let's go!" he screams, making me lurch to my feet.
I trail behind him, following to the bathroom. This is the first time I've been out of my chamber with permission. The bathroom is still steamy from the shower. I notice new bottles of shampoo and other bathroom supplies that I assume he bought today. A cheap box of blonde hair dye is in his hand. I furrow my brow, wondering why anyone would picture me blonde.
He wheels around to face me. "I have no idea how any of this works, but you're just gonna have to deal with it." He flips the toilet lid down and motions for me to sit. I tentatively perch on the ceramic as he tries to read the directions of the hair dye. I open mouth, trying to say something, but nothing comes out. I close it, swallow, and muster the courage. "How long?" I manage to squeak out.
"How long what?" he bellows, clearly frustrated by multiple things.
"How long has it been since..." I mumble, avoiding eye contact.
"Almost a week," he responds in a distracted tone. I clench my jaw, trying not to let it affect me. I study the linoleum, attempting to keep my mind off of any memories from back home. I realize I don't even know where we are. I hear him rip the box open and pull out a tube. "Ugh, I forgot those stupid gloves. Don't move!" he says turning around to me and then walking out.
I roll my eyes a little. As if I'd try to repeat the last time. He returns shortly and begins whatever he thinks the process is. I just sit there, having no feelings of wanting to help. I've done this plenty of times, but I don't even care how it turns out. After he's done applying, he tells me to sit there for a while. He leaves for a few minutes to go do God knows what, and returns to make me rinse it off.
He hands me a towel and I wrap it around my wet hair. I move to go back to my room, and he tells me not to try him again, allowing me to pass. When I get back, I'm shocked to see an actual bed where the mattress used to be. I guess he was putting sheets on while I waited for the dye to soak in.
YOU ARE READING
She's Gone
Fanfiction"'David, Gabbie can't be next,' I said, my voice breaking. He pulled me into his chest, and I broke down sobbing. 'She's not safe,' I wailed. He stroked my hair, knowing there was nothing he could say."
