Unfound

20

I felt dirty. Completely, awfully dirty. As the garbage of a human stood over me grinning, I contained myself from spitting at him. What he had done, had made me do, showed me the ugliest side of him.

He had handed me a cell phone and forced me to hold it up to my ear, with a knife to my throat he told me to dial a number and read the script he was holding out in front of me, written on a scrap piece of binder paper. I didn't know what he wanted or why, but my heart sank as I scanned over the script. The phone rang on speaker, no doubt so he could make sure that I wasn't giving anything away.

Finally, a woman answered, "This is the police department, how may I help you?"

A tear dropped from my face, leaving a trail across my cheek and to my lip. I tasted the salt and I bit back another one. I understood. Seth, Braden, ushered me to keep going, "I would like to make a report on the man I saw on the news last night."

"What's your name ma'am?"

I looked up at him, hate burning as I read the script out loud, "I would like to remain anonymous. The man, he's my neighbor, Seth Jones. He lives a few houses down and looks exactly like the man in the picture. He used to drive a black jeep, but this morning he drove away in a small red Ford Focus." My voice caught in my throat, Seth staring me down profusely. I let out a breath to stabilize myself.

"Do you have a plate number?" She questioned, I heard a pen scratching on paper through the mic.

I closed my eyes and swallowed, "Yes," I finally replied, gritting my teeth, Seth smiling above me, increasing the distance between the knife and my skin, "I only got a partial plate, 6FC3. Again, it was a small red Ford Focus and it looked like someone was in the passenger seat with him."

"Thank you ma'am. Is there any other way we can contact yo..." Braden grabbed the phone from my hand and hung up on her. He smiled at me, his head tilting to the side, his fingers reached for my cheek, pushing loose hairs from the side of my face, trying to tuck them behind my ear.

He came closer to my face, whispering to me, "Good acting, Kara. That should ensure your safety for at least a few more days." He smiled as he nibbled on my ear. I started to raise my hands to push him away, forgetting the bounds he had forced me into. The rope cutting deep into my wrists already. He had tied both of my wrists together and then again to my thigh so I couldn't defend myself. Another tear trickled down my cheek as he began to kiss the nape of my neck. I sat up straight and strong, not wanting him to know how much he hurt me. Cutting deeper with his kisses than that knife ever could. I silently wished for him to run me through with it, to get it over with.

I wondered if I should have risked the blade. I wondered if death would be better. I knew he wouldn't kill me. He would hurt me until I bled, but he wanted me for something, he needed me. I needed to get out, and to do that I had to know him. If I ever wanted the police to actually find him, I needed to fill in the blanks. I didn't know what house I was in or what car he actually drove, only his real name which he surely wouldn't use on his lease or anything else.

His lips finally made it to mine, hovering just above them as if considering something. I waited, it was all I could do at this point. My life was waiting for Braden to make his move and decide my fate. He smiled against me, his body pushing on mine. I waited. "You're a good girl, Kara," he began to tug at the base of my shirt. I waited. He lifted it up, pulling it up and then down to where my hands rested against my thigh. He smirked and kissed me again. I did what I could not to shiver, waiting for it to be over. Feeling naked and exposed in the cold basement, wishing I took the knife over the man. Both were torture, but at least the blade was humane.

He laughed at my obvious discomfort, hands exploring wherever they wanted to, knowing I couldn't stop him in the slightest. I only had a few inches of motion with my hands and even less with him pinning down my legs. I was unable to stop him, after all. He laid me down on the mattress, trying to be gentle, but fighting his desire made him ferocious. He climbed on top of me, knees pinning me down yet again. I tried to move my arms up in defense, but the ropes dug deeper into my wrists and my thigh. I didn't look away, but stared him straight in the face. Hoping he could hear the words I was yelling at him from my head. The smirk he gave me, he might have heard my inner thoughts, but ate them up. His power growing. His scent on me. I couldn't stop it. I waited, petrified. I willed the tears not to fall, to at least not give him that.

He wanted all of my clothes off and on the floor, but he never stripped down. His clothes protected him from true intimacy, a delicacy I wished I could afford. I wished I could fight him. I wished I would have taken his knife and ran him through with it. He untied my bound hands from my thigh, leaving my wrists together. The cool air rubbed against the burns, making the pain more dull. I knew what he wanted and what he was going to do. I no longer had a voice. Losing myself, trying to lock down any part of me on the inside where he couldn't reach me, no matter where he touched.

My eyes shut, I thought about something else, anything else. trying to become numb to Braden, Seth, the monster's touch. I thought of Liam and all he was doing to look for me. I thought of my parents and my friends. I thought of Elizabeth and Kasey and Lelia, wanting to be back with them instead of in this prison. I thanked Liam for being my first so that Seth wouldn't be. I thanked Liam for showing me true intimacy and love, so that I wasn't blind to it. So that I wouldn't be when I got the hell out of here. I was going to get the hell out. I'd survived this long, survived this torture. I'd been through too much to not get out alive. My will to live and control over what I could helped me get this far, nearly three weeks. I was going to do it.

I felt him on me. Trying to ignore him and push him out wasn't enough. By body didn't work. I couldn't move, I couldn't struggle. I was frozen. I wanted to be numb, needed to be, but his hands, his body cut deep. I felt everything.

I looked up at the ceiling, trying to find my comfort in the constellations. I found a sword. All I wanted to do was reach up, and grab that sword from the celling and plunge it deep into Braden. I wanted to feel the blade plunge into his skin, violating him as he had me. But the sword wasn't real. My power wasn't real. The constellations were textures on a celling that I would never be able to reach. I was small, too small to do anything, but lay here. I wasn't strong. Not strong enough.

His hands moved up my legs and I squeezed my eyes shut again. My release wasn't real and the only power I had was my power of sight. I could restrict that. I only wished I could plug my ears, block him out completely. His animalistic growls and grunts the only sound in this basement, and yet it seemed to echo through the world. My whole body was bound by him, and he didn't need rope. His control over me was beyond what I could understand. Most of my cloths already on the floor, he tugged at my shorts, pulling them down my weighted legs. I couldn't move. I let him. I heard the zipper of his jeans.  I wanted to claw into my own skin and pull him from me. I wanted him gone. I couldn't do anything. I was powerless as he forced himself inside me. I just waited, waited for him to finish. Waiting for the final blow. Waiting for the knife, hoping for the knife, for I now knew it wouldn't cut as deep as Seth.