Captive

1: Silence

A/N: I have decided to rewrite part 1, as I much preferred to get straight into the gritty stuff. Hope you enjoy :)

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Where was i? I asked myself as I woke up. I knew even before I opened my eyes that I was somewhere else. Somewhere unfamiliar. The smell of musty damp filled my nose. The hustle and bustle sounds of the city were replaced with silence. That type of silence that was deafening and sent my brain into some kind of confused overdrive. I don't remember opening my eyes. All I remember is darkness. The darkness of my closed eyes, switched for the darkness of the room. I felt nothing. Was this death?

I don't know how long I stayed in the same position. I could feel that I was laid on something soft. I assumed a mattress. I longed to move, to stretch out my legs, to explore, but the fear was too much. I didn't know what surrounded me. All I saw was an empty abyss. The more I thought about it, the more I began to doubt that anything existed outside of me and this mattress.

Slowly the grogginess left my mind, and yet I still laid in the same position. My mind went over all the books and TV shows I had seen where the women woke up in a strange place. Am I sure I was being kidnapped? No. But my mind tried to explore options. Options that seemed to have hope of returning to normalcy. Really I hoped I was dreaming, but wouldn't I of woken up by now? In the past I was always aware of when I was having a nightmare, and I always seemed to have control of when I woke up, ending the nightmare. But willing myself to wake up didn't work this time. I raised by arm to my thigh, and pinched as hard as I could until I was cringing in pain. Professor Sawyer said that when you were in a dream you couldn't feel pain. I guess that's where the saying 'pinch me' to see if something was real came from. Since that lecture of dreams I had paid close attention to my own. It seemed he was right, a rarity for a professor lecturing on the works of Freud. No matter what happened in my dreams I never experienced pain. So that left kidnapped as the last option. But why would someone kidnap me? All those crime shows are always centred around ransoms. I was not rich by any means, unless the kidnapper was desperate to access the £20 that was left of my student overdraft. And if they had done enough research they'd of quickly realised my parents would much sooner say goodbye to their daughter than their much beloved money. I wish I was joking.

How could someone kidnap me? I was careful. I avoided walking streets on my own after dark. Even during the day when I walked home alone I kept my keys tucked between my knuckles, ready to defend myself if needed. But then again every girl took steps to protect themselves, and you'd be lucky to open a newspaper and not find some story of some woman being attacked on the streets by a stranger.

My brain was suddenly pulled from overdrive contemplating the situation I was in, when the sounds of faint footsteps could be heard. At first I thought I was imagining it. The sound of silence became too much that I started imagining it. But that thought ended quicker than it started as I heard the sound of the lock turning. I sat up on the mattress, feeling the pain that pulsed throughout my body for the first time today. I guess staying completely still and not removing for however long worked as a good pain relief. The light flooded the room. I raised my arm to cover my eyes as I adjusted to the return of my senses. Infront of me was a man. His large stature took up the door frame, as he started down at me with a smile placed on his face. Oh how I already hated that smile. I stared at him, unsure of how to react. Do I scream for help? Do I make a break for the door? Those University provided self-defence classes have quickly been rendered useless. There was no training on what to do in this situation. He started walking towards me. The sound of his shoes echoed throughout the room. It felt with each step, the seconds left of my life were ticking down. I wrapped my arms around myself and moved backwards, instantly hitting the wall behind me. As he reached me, he crouched down and looked straight at me. I felt vulnerable and bare, but I sat up, holding eye contact with him to hide that fear. The longer I stared into his piercing green eyes, the more fearful I became. I felt like I was looking into the eyes of the devil himself. I remembered those eyes.

I remembered seeing those eyes across the bar. I remember staring into them with lust and adoration as he bought me a drink and we danced together. I remember saying goodbye to those eyes as I went home with my friends. I remember seeing those eyes in a dark corner of my bedroom. Then I remembered nothing else, except the sound of screaming and pain.

Before I knew what I was doing, my hand striked him across the face. I pushed myself up from the mattress, but his hands quickly shoved me back down. I lashed out towards him, digging my nails into whatever flesh I could reach. "Let me go you sick fuck." I screamed. Between my frailing arms I saw him pull the tip off a syringe with his teeth. My fight got stronger, but he ignored my punches and scratching. He shoved my arms to the side, and then I felt a sharp sting in my neck. Suddenly my arms went limp, and my screams died down in to whispers. I left the energy drain out of my body, and all I could do was stare at him. His hand reached down and stroked my hair out of my face. His lips left a small peck on mine as I slipped into darkness once more.