A Silhouette and Maybe More

Week One

He made me feel like a prisoner, entrapped in this exiguous room. I re-lived my life in my head trying to figure out if there was anything I had done that made me deserve to be here, nothing came to mind. Things were getting better as the week progressed, he'd visit regularly, I guessed he was trying to be more friendly. He fed me more often, he even gave me a book to read which I finished in almost a night, my eyes stung after flicking over the last page as I barely blinked. But every time he came, I never had the courage to talk, only deliver simple gestures: nod of the head, point of the finger, a shrug of the shoulder, it was all very frustrating to me and no doubt for him. I wanted to talk to him, get a conversation going even if it didn't lead anywhere I just couldn't.

But that all changed exactly 11 days after my kidnapping. He came in after one in the afternoon, like he usually would to give me my measly lunch which consisted of a packet of crisps and a stained mug of water, but unexpectedly he stayed and sat in the corner watching me eat. I felt incredibly uneasy with his presence, watching me as I shyly nibbled away. He sat, knees raised but crossed at the ankles and his hands hooked onto each other while his elbows sat upon his knees staring at me through his eyebrows. Every now and then I would peer up at him questioning why he was here - he never usually was.

"Do you like them?" he asked in almost a monotone, barely interested in my opinion but just wanted to make sure that I actually knew how to speak. I nodded, again with the gestures. He rolled his head frustratingly and glared back at me.

"Speak." he demanded like I was his dog. I felt insulted, although I probably looked and smelled like a dog which was probably why he was sitting at the opposite end of the room.

"Yes." I timidly said. He chewed on his lip approving the fact that I could speak. He looked at me only to blankly stare at the book that sat by my bed.

"You finished that?" He asked almost shocked his eyebrows raising which was strange because he looked different, it was an expression I hadn't seen on his face before. I began to nod but remembered that he would get annoyed and abruptly stopped.

"Yes." I gave him a simple answer. He nodded in acknowledgement studying me, I felt his eyes scan over me and I felt instantly uncomfortable like I was being judged, I never liked being judged.

"What's your name?"

Oh, typical. So now you want to know my name? Why would you even care? You're probably going to end up killing me anyway. You kept me here for a week doing nothing more than feeding me crisps which, to be honest, were out of date and had gone stale, bore me to the point where I would desperately look for something that would end my life, or drive me insane, and you had the audacity to completely ignore me, you made me out to be a problem you didn't want to deal with. These were the words I should've said, but never-the-less I answer, only because I don't want anything bad to happen.

"Amelia." I answer. I've always hated my name, supposedly meaning 'work', 'industrious' and 'fertile' in German. People always tell you that your name describes you in some way, so...what? Am I suppose to work for the rest of my life just so I can live up to what my name says about me? No thanks.

"I'm Dan."

Fascinating, I don't care. I certainly expressed that by the way I pursed my lips in an angered way. I held a grudge against him and I definitely did not trust him one bit.

"Why do you continue to keep me here? Tell me please I just want to ease my mind, do what you want with me, I don't care, I just want to know." A sudden burst of confidence and frustration washed over me and I just lashed out not caring about whether it was the right thing to do. After a long moment of silence he finally answered.

"I'm lonely." He muttered. My mouth agape I glared at him, my face showing some expression so as to say 'what the fuck?'

"You're lonely. You're lonely? Do you know how lonely I've been sitting up here trapped in this fucking room with nothing to do except to stupidly bang my head against the wall out of boredom for 11 days?" I was up on my feet now, he slowly copied immediately over-towering me however I carried on with my rant.

"And who in the right mind would think that at the first sign of loneliness you would kidnap someone, hold them hostage for a week and only coming in to see them to feed them shitty bags of crisps. Was that the same for that poor guy you killed? Did you keep him here under the same conditions? Hm? But it's okay for him isn't it? He's dead, he doesn't have to endure long days and nights here and especially doesn't have to endure you." I pointed directly at him an inch from touching him.

What have I done?

He simply stood before me, blood boiling inside him. It would be a understatement if I said that he was furious. Dan moved slowly towards me closing the gap between us putting me on edge. With his deathly blank stare it felt like he sucked out the anger in me and consumed it leaving me anger-less and petrified. Within the millisecond of my body touching the cold wall which contrasted with my overheating body, his hand snatched my neck easily wrapping his long lanky fingers right around my neck. I struggled to breath even the tiniest amount of air that would was able to get through the narrow gap in my throat. I clutched at his hand desperately attempting to pull it away as consciousness slipped away from me every minute he held me like this. His red face stared at me, and if looks could kill I would be undoubtedly be dead within a blink of an eye. I could see his veins popping out his head, his teethed clenched as tight as they could possibly be as well as his grip around my neck.