Witness

•CHAPTER 13•

I was calling Ashley's name for hours and the girls in the room began to shush me. I guess she wasn't there.

The chain on my ankle began to rub off skin so I was limited to rarely moving.

"George." I called out for no reason. I was just bored. And worried I was going crazy...

"George." I called again. He finally opened the door.

"What?" He demanded.

"Just kill me now. I'd rather die quickly than starve to death."

"Well, thanks to your stupid phone call, the police probably know where we are. They are coming for you and I'm taking you hostage. I'll hand you over if they give me money."

"We all know that isn't gonna work."

"If it doesn't then I'll kill you."

"You'll get killed before that happens." I crawled closer to him until it was as close to him as my chain would let me.

"Is that all you called for? To talk?"

I stood up; a few inches away from him. "Yep." I said and patted him on the back.
He looked confused which was exactly what I wanted. He turned and walked away, closing the door.

My heart was pudding faster and faster with each beat. I walked back to the wall and sat facing away from the door, cradling a set of keys in my hand. George's keys.

He had them on a hook on his belt. All I had to do was make him stare at my face while I took his keys. He didn't notice because he was too focused on me patting his back. Wow. That was easy.

But what was I supposed to do with his keys? I had no idea. However, it would come in handy if I did escape.

After a while of struggle, I managed to pull up a floor board enough to slip the keys underneath so George wouldn't find them. If he wanted his keys, he would have to give me his gun.

Minutes passed by that felt like hours. Hours felt like days. I began to grow so hungry that I hallucinated things; people standing in corners, food in front of me though it was only dirt, etc. the people were the creepiest. They would just stand and stare at me from across the room. Once I tried asking what a woman with dirty hair and torn clothes wanted, but she just pointed to Ashley's room and started laughing.

Soon, I laughed with her.

"Kyle." Can e a lice. I stopped laughing and looked around my room; no people were there.

"Kyle." I heard it again and shipped my head towards the crack in the wall. Ashley was calling me.

"Are you real?" I asked.

"What? Of course I'm real." She replied. She shoved her hand through the crack and handed me a price of hard bread.

"George feeds us every day and night. Here."

I took the piece and it tasted like rock and dirt, but I didn't care. After finally swallowing it, I felt full. It's weird how one piece of food can do that.

"Did George hurt you?" I asked when I noticed a bruise across her face. "It's my fault."

"I told you to back off. But that isn't the point. It's been three days now and you are dying. We need to get out."

"Now you agree with me?" I smirked. "Well I've lost all hope. When I found you, you lost hope but I had some. Now you have some and I don't."

"I'll do it myself if I have to."

I rolled my eyes. "Good luck."

"I heard your call. The police know about us! They can get us out!"

"No, they can't! Where will you go when you're out? I have nowhere and so do you. It's better here than out. At least George gives you food." I began to get angry.

"George rapes one of us every night. And every night we come back bruised. I used to never talk to anyone. To cry myself to sleep. And I still do. But for once I have hope. I have hope because of you."

I paused for a moment. I'm such a dick. Ashley has been more hurt than I. Her emotions are completely ruined. She can't trust. Only fears.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." She disappeared into the room again. An image of my mom flew around in my brain.

12 years ago

"Dad, who are you talking to?" I asked while looking up at him. He held up his finger motioning for me to wait.

"You left him! He's only a kid!" He argued.

"Dad, who are you talking to?" I asked again.

He sighed. "Your mom." He replied, covering the speaker. Tears filled his eyes and I had no idea why. He always fights but he never shows emotion.

"Can I talk to her?"

He handed me the phone and went upstairs. "Mommy! When are you coming home?" I asked excitedly.

"Hi Kyle! Mommy is at work. She can't come home for a while."

"But I miss you!" I complained.

"I miss you too, honey. Listen, dad is gonna take care of you for a bit while I'm gone."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at work. I can't come home now."

I paused. "I'm sorry for fighting with you yesterday. I didn't mean it. I love you."

"I know, Kyle. I know." She replied.

"Mom, what did I do? Please come home! Or I can visit you." I, too, began to cry.

"Kyle, you know you did nothing wrong!"

Tears streamed down my face. "I did something wrong! I fought with you and now you don't want me!"

The other end went silent.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Then she hung up.