Locked Up Together

3: "I'm Not Going To Hurt you."

3: Locked Up Together
        Surprise bolted across his face as I sprang up from my position and attacked him. I quickly balled my hand into a fist a punched his right jaw, although that seemed to only make him stumble a bit before he regained his balance and stalked toward me. Great. So the guy had a knife well mine was an hour away. I was defenseless with no weapons.

        I attempted to kick him in the stomach, but failed as he grabbed ahold of my shoe and twisted my leg around, making me fall down to the floor. As I pushed myself up, he punched me in the jaw with an iron fist. That was definitely going to leave a bruise. I placed a hand on my left jaw, wincing from the pain there. I glared at the man through the darkness, still surrounded by black. The only light in the room was coming from a sunlight window on the second floor. But even then, I could only see the outline of his figure.

        He tried to punch me again, this time going for my stomach. As a reflex, I grabbed ahold of his larger fist and stopped it before it could connect with my body. Anger surged through my veins, causing my hands to shake slightly with anger. I sank down to the floor and launched my foot to his leg, knocking him to the floor. I instantly climbed on top of him and pinned his arms down with my knees, getting as close to him as I could. Even though this was a bit intimate for my liking.

        Using my glance at the time as a distraction, he flipped us over so he was on top. I still couldn't see his face, and I thanked God he couldn't see mine. using his hands and knees, he pressed me into a kneeling position where he grabbed my hand and forced it backward. I winced, the pain in my shoulder intensifying with each second that passed.

        I could now understand why my doctor said no fighting, for this, was truly excruciating. A spasm of pain ricocheted through my shoulder and upper back. I attempted to move against his stronghold, but it only caused more pain to surge through me. I gritted my teeth and bit my bottom lip to stop from crying out at the amount of anguish flooding through me. I was taught to never show pain, and I was taught never to lose. But I had already lost, so I couldn't show pain.

        "I'm not going hurt you. I didn't know anyone else was here." He held his hands up and then, as if just realizing he held a knife in one, he bent down and tucked it into his boot.

        That didn't make me feel much better. "You're not going to hurt me any more than you already have?" I scoffed, tenderly rubbing my shoulder as I slowly pushed myself off the ground. "What are you even doing here?"

        "Just needed a place to stay."

        Great. I was trapped in the library with a homeless guy trained in hand to hand combat? A homeless guy with a knife. My heart was in my throat.

        I could tell he was trying to talk in a calm voice, but it came out scratchy. "Let's sit somewhere and talk. I'm going to get my bag. I left it at the top of the stairs. And then I going to come down. Okay?" His hands were still raised in front of him, like that action should make me feel perfectly at ease. "Don't call anyone until we talk."

        He thought I was going to call someone? If I had access to a phone, I wouldn't be here. If I had access to any communication device—a bull-horn, a morse code machine—do those machines have names?—I wouldn't be here. But I wasn't going to give away my only blackmail threat. "Okay," I said.

        The second he left me alone, I sprinted back down the stairs and past the glass doors. If he was armed, I wanted to be too.

        I tucked myself behind a shelf in the back of the stands. My breath was heavy and uneven and I could barely see anything. I reached in front of me and grabbed the heaviest book I could find. Worst-case scenario, I could knock him out with it.