Kidnapped (☆Sequel Is Published☆)

Safe

He opens the door to the cold room. I had just woken up, and to the most nauseous sight imaginable. Michael.

"Oh, uh, good morning, Jacey," he says with a smile. He was visibly sweaty, and he looked upset. I blink to adjust my eyes to the light as he flicks it on. He moves to a small table and pulls out pancake batter, the only thing I've been getting fed.

I sit tiredly, waiting for him to give me the dry, awful batter once again.

He slowly walks to me after filling the dirty cup, the same one Emma uses, and handing it to me after cutting the zip ties off. He goes through so many.

I eat quickly, not being sure if he would take it away or not. I was fearful, but I wasn't as scared as Emma.

I woke up and she was gone. I have no idea where he took her. Probably the same unfortunate fate as me. It made me feel sick and my head whirls thinking about it.

"Gimme," he says demandingly, putting his hand down for the cup. His fingers curl impatiently. I give it to him, even though I had barely any time to eat. I got maybe a mouthful.

He walks back to the table and leans down. He rests his elbows against the table and runs his hands through his hair.

I sit, a little frightened. He seemed a little unstable. Usually he walks in here with at least a little confidence.

He mumbles things to himself, shaking his head before turning to face me. He blinks a few times, a piercing stare burning into my eyes.

He looks at me and opens his mouth to say something. I sit, watching uncomfortably for him to say something. Sweat was forming on his forehead and his hair was now moist. He looked a huge mess.

"Listen, I don't know if they're coming or not, but," he stops and gulps, looking down. I keep my stare on him. My eyebrows were slightly furrowed in confusion.

"Jesus, um, do you want something more to eat?" He asks, tapping his finger against the desk. He looked stressed, and I was fearful that he would lash out on me like he has before. I keep my head low and nod.

He gulps and walks forward, waving his hand to himself. "Follow me," he says calmly. I shake and get chills as I wobbily sit up from the blanket, my head tilts a bit from the confusion of his sudden generosity. I didn't want to do anything with him, but I feel I have no choice.

He walks me down a hall and up a staircase before my eyes catch a small kitchen. He turns to me and takes a deep breath. "Come over here and choose. I have a lot of food, but you get two choices. Rice or bread?" he asks, his eyes moving all around his kitchen.

My stomach was begging to growl. This seemed surreal.

"Pick your choice, Jacey," he says, looking back at me. I walk slowly towards him, everything instinctively trying to make me turn around and run.

My hands cling to my side as I get closer to him. He seemed unbothered, but under horrible stress. It was like he didn't care anymore. He looks like he's losing his mind.

"I don't have all fucking day to stare at you," he says lowly. I look at him in utter fear, nodding.

"Can I have rice?" I ask softly. I flinch as his hand moves forward towards me. My hands instinctively block him and a wave of fear floods through me.
Of course, he wasn't aiming for me, but the food. He picks up a bag and takes it out.

"Sit down," he says, a smile growing on his face.

After what felt like hours of silent waiting, he comes closer with a steaming bowl of plain white rice. My stomach was burning for any kind of food. I was eager to just shovel it in my mouth.

He sets it down in front of me and places a metal spoon next to it.

He stops me from picking up the spoon, putting his hand out. "Don't be in such a rush. Don't leave this spot, just stay here," he says. His eyes were burning into mine. I nod slowly, looking back down in confusion.

I pick up a spoonful of rice, taking a bite. It was still a little hot, but I couldn't help but swallow it almost immediately, even if it did burn my throat.

I move my eyes to look at Michael, who was walking away. I sit quietly, basically choking on the rice. My stomach, for once, felt full and pleased with something warm. I almost felt sick even from how quickly I was eating.

Suddenly, a hear a knock on the door. I freeze.

"Police! Open up!"

I sit frozen. Oh my God.

My breathing picks up, my mind fuzzy. I was scared he would hide me, shoot them. I pray to myself for everything to work out.

I hear his footsteps quickly from downstairs. He looks at me and turns to the door, his face frozen. My heart beat speeds up. "He was right!" He says loudly. "I should've listened to that son of a bitch," he says quieter through teeth.

"Open up!" The yelling continues, fists slamming against the door from the other side. I catch eyes with Michael, who comes closely to me. I duck my head down as he approaches.

"Don't tell them anything when they get in or I'll make you wish you weren't fucking created," he says deeply, holding my cheek tightly. My eyes move to the door. I couldn't focus on anything but the police.

He lets go and looks all around nervously. I sit, waiting in agony for the moment they break that door open.

I watch as he looks at me and takes a deep breath before staring at the window. Another slam against the door makes me jump a bit. I was waiting, begging for them to get through already.

I look at him with my eyebrows furrowed. He stares back before flipping his back window open quickly and jumping out. I stand up once I hear a thump from outside. I gulp painfully, feeling more confused than ever. No way he's getting away with it.

Suddenly, the door swings open. 4 masked officers bust in, covered in riot gear, 1 even holding a pistol. I take a deep breath, looking at all them. "Help me!" I yell loudly, finally letting out the emotion I've cooped up for too long.

Eveything seemed to happen in slow motion. The police held me in handcuffs, guiding me out the door. I could hear them trying to calm me down, but every sound and every movement they made was surreal, blurry.

People began pulling over, stopping in front of his house. Pictures were being taken, flashing lights surrounded everything in sight.

After a few minutes, I'm shoved in the back of a police car, given a blanket, and tucked softly in a seatbelt without the cuffs. Two officers sit in the front of the police car.

The silence was killing me, but I had nothing to say. The officers were discussing something to each other, looking back at me sometimes.

"So, um, do you know Emma Wilson?" The officer asks, turning completley around to speak with me. My heart rate speeds up. I gulp, nodding. The guilt of knowing that Michael had escaped was causing me slight grief.

The female officer turns around for a second before looking back at me. "Do you have any ideas to where she could be? It's alright if you don't," she says softly. I keep my eyes out the window, my head resting in my palm. I could see her slight smile in the corner of my eye.

"She left last night," I say quietly, my eyes never leaving the beautiful sight that is freedom. I crack a small smile along with a sigh.

"She was with you?" The officer asks. I look at her slowly, nodding. I didn't want to say much.

"Don't worry, Jacey. You're safe now," she says reassuringly. I take a deep breath and turn to look out the window again.

Where's Emma?