Vines

In the Well

She awoke in the cold, damp room, and wondered what the dripping noise was. She was cold, her mouth was dry. Water, dripping water. She was thirsty. She opened her eyes to a dark world. She reached out, suddenly realizing she didn't know where she was. She was lying on a wooden bench, she could feel it against her bare skin. Oh god, she was naked. He hands groped at her body, trying to find evidence that it couldn't possibly be true.

No... she wasn't completely naked. Around her neck she felt the heavy metal collar. It was warm – no, hot. She pulled her fingers away, fearing they might have been burned. They throbbed slightly in pain, but where the collar touched her neck she felt nothing.

Her heart felt like a crazed man banging on a door, trying to escape. Where was she? She stood and groped around. She could feel the slimy stone walls, overgrown with moss, rivulets of water streaming down. Her bare feet splashed in chilled ponds. She was shivering and sobbing loudly. She couldn't feel a door. The room was tiny, too small for her to be able to stretch out. She screamed, she clawed at the stones. And finally, light –

"Quiet," the gruff voice called down and she silently looked up in shock.

She could see now she was at the bottom of a well. A small wooden bench curved around one side. A trap door above was open, and she could only see the outline of a man staring down. At least she assumed it was a man, because the voice had sounded like a man's.

She wanted to scream, but her voice seemed to burn in her throat, unable to escape. She reached up, but even then she knew he wasn't going to throw her down a rope. He hadn't come here to save her. He had put her there. More tears came, silently, blurring her vision so much all she could see was a smear of light above.

"Until we move you, you just be quiet down there. Here," he was doing something, she could see the watery light wavering. She wiped her eyes, and could make out that he was putting something in a basket. Her stomach twisted. She remembered that movie, with Jodie Foster and the cannibal. It puts its lotion on its skin or else...

She stumbled back, trying to find distance between herself and the descending basket. She tried to scream, but once more her voice seemed to burn in her throat. She slid down the wall of the well. She could feel the rocks scrape her bare skin. She had always had pale, delicate skin. Even if she scratched herself large red welts would form. She had had a boyfriend once who liked to pinch her neck, who liked to see the red mark there in the evening after coming home from work.

"Eat your snack," the shadowy man said, before hesitating a moment. "It will help with the headache."

Help with the headache. She felt like she was in a daze. She reached into the basket and found a folded piece of paper and a tangerine. Her hands were cold and stiff, like mannequin hands unfolding the paper to produce two pills which she dutifully popped into her mouth. Satisfied, the man began to raise the basket as she unpeeled the orange.

The slices of orange had no taste in her mouth, they were just wet mushy things. The well became dark again. She continued to cry, silently.