day 1
rachel's pov
it was night by the time the door clicked again. a small lamp next to the bed was glowing, but the light wasn't that good. it made everything look orange.
all day, i sat on the cold, hard ground. crying, sleeping, heaving, you name it. my stomach hurt so much because i didn't eat anything.
when i heard the door. i sprung to my feet. whoever it was, i didn't care. i wanted out. i was ready to see a man with 70' looking glasses.
but it was a boy. he looked only 17, maybe even 16. his brown hair and hazel eyes shined from the moon light above, but quickly disappeared after i shoved him away, trying to get through the door.
he was stronger then i thought. he had a sorrow look as he held my wrists, keeping them from hurting him. the door kicked shut behind him as a tried to scream for help.
"shh! it's no use. my dad is still awake. he's got a gun. he won't hesitate to use it."
peter, or whoever this boy was, his voice soothed me. it was calm, but showed that he cared. he didn't even say anything that could've calmed me down, but yet, he did.
he was wearing a blue sweatshirt with kakis. his hair was a tangled mess, and in the darkness of the room, you could see his restless eyes.
noticing that he just lied about everything in the note he had written, my hope was gone. he touched me, he said his dad wasn't going to hurt me, and now he's telling me it's "no use" to scream and run.
he quickly let go of my hands as soon as the door clicked. i tried to hit him, smack him, punch him, but he stood over me by half a foot. he took the punches and slaps until i was done. i collapsed on the floor, tired of fighting. i was fatigued, hungry, and everything in between, but i didn't want to give up.
"i'm sorry i grabbed your wrists. i didn't mean to, i needed you to quiet down so my dad wouldn't hear," supposedly peter said.
"what do you want?" i hoarsely asked. this was the first time i heard myself talk in the room. my voice sounded cracked, like a glass that had tipped over and a line was running down the side.
"i want you to get out of here safely," he said in the most smoothest voice i've ever heard. he walked over to the counter and noticed i haven't touched any of it. he sighed.
"i know that sounds crazy and that i don't mean it. i don't know when, but we have to come up with something without my dad being suspicious," he moved something from the bag and started putting things away. i still stayed on the floor, watching this unfold.
"how long will that be?" i asked. my voice hurt to talk. he turned around and slowly walked over to me. he put his hands out, showing that he didn't have anything. he held out his hand to help me up
i'm not an idiot.
i slid back, looking away from him. he took his arm back and walked a little bit away, give me space.
it a funny thing to say space when there's none around.
"hopefully this week. my dad usually had business meetings like, five hours away. his next one is on sunday."
today is thursday.
"no. i want to leave. now." my voice was louder than before, and hurt more than ever. he winced at my voice. he knew i was hurting.
"i promise you'll be out soon. my dad doesn't even know i'm here. please, if you want to get out unharmed, you need to trust me," he said with a slight tone in his voice. i couldn't tell wether it was something about the way he wanted me to trust him, or me to believe that i'll get it unharmed.
"how can i trust you?"
he took a deep breath. he thought about this for a second. he didn't know what to even say at this moment. that's when i saw it.
his eyes. his eyes were different. he was just as scared as i was. he didn't want me to be here. he didn't want anyone to get hurt. his eyes were red and his cheeks were wet.
he slowly took a ring off of his pinky and slid it across the floor. he sighed quietly, his jaw clenching as he did. he sat down in a chair next to him. his legs gave out as if he lost a part of himself.
"take that. it was a gift from my mom before she died. i don't know how it's going to help, but it's so i care. it-"
i tuned out whatever he said. i grabbed the ring from the cold ground and looked at it. it was a silver band with something engraved in it. it was too dark to read.
but it was a beautiful ring.
i held it in my hand, looking back up at him. he nodded his head and sat up from the chair he was sitting in. he walked over by the door, about to punch in a code.
"i think i overstayed my welcome. i'll get out of your-"
"no. stay."
he turned his head back to look at me. a faint smile crept on his face as he sat back down. he still hasn't answered all my questions.
"what's your name? your real name," i asked. he seemed baffled by this question. he knew that he wrote it down on the note.
"it's peter," he paused. "what shall i call you?"
i thought about the words he said. he didn't ask for my name. he didn't ask for my real name. i could say anything i wanted to. i could-
"my name is rachel," i blurted out. that was my real name. why had i done that? why did i just give away my real name? could he find my family and trap them, too?
my family.
"does my mom know where i am?" i asked. my voice had gone quieter as i went on. he gave me a look.
"as far as i know, we're the only ones that know where you are."
this broke my heart. her mom could be frantic about her. would she even notice i was gone? of course she would. it's my mom. although, she did text me to never show my face at home again...
"oh." my heart dropped as i remembered the texts my mom sent a few hours before i went missing.
there was a long silence. peter didn't know what to say, but neither did i.
"peter?"
this was the first time i said his name. his head popped up like a dog that found its owner after a frantic search. it was almost as if he loved his name.
"yeah?"
i swallowed. before i could say anything, my stomach made the biggest noise of all. peter frowned and went over to the counter. he got out two slices of bread and some jam from the small electric fridge. he also opened a cupboard and tossed out some peanut butter, slabbing some onto the other slice.
he put the sand which on a plate and slid the plate over to me like a prisoner between bars. even though she was being held hostage, it almost felt like he was being held, too. the way his face looked at the room, and his heart sank the way he mentioned his dad and the others who have been here, it all added up.
peter was just as captured as i was.
