Hyena

Mama

It was cold. Very cold. The room was dark. There was a smell, a coppery dank smell. Blood. Possibly something else that I didn't want to think about at the moment. I put my hand over my mouth and nose and closed my eyes trying not to gag. I blinked a few times as I hoped my eyes would adjust enough that I could at least see something. As I calmed myself I noticed the room wasn't pitch black but it was still almost impossible to see. I was on a cement floor in the corner and I intended to stay there. My back against two walls. It meant that nothing could possibly sneak up behind me. It was tempting to scream, but if I was there for the reasons I immediately believed I was, then that was just going to make things worse. Staying calm would be my key to also staying alive. 

With how it smelled in there, I easily surmised there were others. They just hadn't lived. They wouldn't have known what to do. It wasn't that I believed that I could do what I had to, but I did at very least have a plan. As to where I was or how I'd gotten there, it was anyone's guess. I did know who I was with, though. There was no doubt in my mind. The only real questions were when he'd come and get me and what he'd want to do first. I'd been told if I should try to leave him, abandon him, he'd get others and he'd make them take my place. I didn't doubt it was the case now. At all. I should have taken everything way more seriously but how is one to do that when...well...it was the internet after all. 

The thing about evil men, truly evil, is they don't advertise. They don't admit it. They keep you in the dark. It's easy to dismiss rumors and vague stories as exaggerations or lies. It's easy to believe that someone just wants to mess with you in a chat room, on a forum, on social media. The news warned of these people. Trolls. Scam artists. The ones that simply got their jollies from pulling your leg. Forcing a reaction. Making you scared for your lives. I wasn't some kind of spring chicken. I'd been around. In my thirties, it was hard to scare me with a simple story on the internet. Especially with one that seemingly had no basis in fact and I wasn't getting any legitimate proof of. Which I wasn't, not until the last few months. Now I was here and it was more real than I wanted it to be. More real than I thought it would ever get. 

There was a clanking sound, seemed to be coming from directly in front of me. A light turned on overhead. My arm went up to shield my eyes. They started to water. I blinked rapidly trying to clear them. If he was going to come in here right now I needed to be able to see him. Everything he was doing. I was horrified, my heart was racing, and yet a very twisted part of me wanted to see him in the flesh. View this monster with my own eyes. Even if I had known better than to willingly come to see him and had avoided that at all costs, he'd taken care of that. He would take care of me. I was what he wanted. The door opened just as my vision cleared enough that I could actually see. He stood there, in the doorway. The hall was darker than the room, currently, so I couldn't see much of him. Only a vague outline. Well over six feet tall, lean muscle, and poised as if ready to attack me immediately. I remembered what I was told, should he ever come for me, and used every muscle in my entire body not to scream. 

"Alex," I said, "Stop." He took a step forward, slowly. His posture going from one that looked predatory and ready to lunge to a far more relaxed form. Almost defeated. His shoulders relaxed and his head hung lower. Almost as if he were a child who had been scolded. 

"You are home now." He replied. 

*****

I was on a bed the next time I woke up. There was a small window by me but there were boards nailed over it. Not completely together, enough room for light to come in and for me to just barely peak outside. My head hurt, or more accurately it was kind of buzzing. I was no stranger to opioid use, especially not recreationally, and he knew that. We'd discussed it before. That's what it felt like. Had he injected me with something? When? How? I rolled up my sleeves and checked my arms. There was a puncture wound. Since I was well aware that drugs like that, depending on what they were, could cause amnesic properties I wasn't surprised that I couldn't recall the events that transpired to get me to where I was now but I should have been able to. It really depended on how much he was using and what it was, specifically. There was no way to tell but it was strong stuff.