Noted

Chapter 24

I woke up to the loud sound of a metal plate hitting the cold concrete floor where I lay. In that plate was breakfast, which included half a toast and what I hoped was potatoes; I wasn't sure. I tried to pick myself up off the floor.

My body was sore from the events of the previous night. As I struggled to move, I felt as if I had bruises all along my side. When I lifted my shirt and took a look at myself, I discovered that I was right. Blue– almost black–bruises trailed from almost the top of my ribcage all the way down to my hip; no doubt from when they had thrown me into the cell and I landed on my right side. My face also felt a bit swollen from the angry slap I'd received from Jack. I obviously didn't have a mirror to see if I had any other facial injuries, but even without a mirror, I sort of knew it wasn't pretty.

I gave up on trying to stand, and I crawled to get my breakfast out of the metal tin that screeched against the floor as I pulled it. The horrible high pitched screeching sound pierced my eardrums, but my hunger hurt more than my ears did, and so I tried to eat. Seconds later, I gave up on eating altogether after trying the "potatoes" and concluding that it couldn't possibly be human food; or even food at all. I became frustrated and impatient as my stomach was practically screaming at me, but I refused to eat the dog food in the plate. I threw the rest of it across my cell at the door, causing a loud bang. I had no doubt someone would come to tell me off about it, but, to my surprise, no one came. The hallway seemed quiet for once.

I lay on my back for awhile, trying not to think about food, Troy or what awaited me if my father couldn't cough up two million. My attempts to clear my mind were  quickly interrupted when I heard footsteps walking past the cell door. The passerby traffic had started again. I didn't hear as many people walking around as I had during the night when I tried to sleep, but I didn't pay much attention to it either. Instead, I tried to picture a black void of nothingness. This is what I did whenever things got too hard to handle. I'd imagine a pure black void and block out anything else. I always felt it was the easiest way to deal with anxiety, but, with this level of stress and terror–and physical pain, too–I needed to concentrate a lot harder than usual.

As I kept my eyes shut and tried to calm herself, loud yelling was heard from outside the cell door and down the hallway. I automatically jolted up from my resting position, which was a huge mistake in light of my painful injuries. I froze in place and listened, without taking a breath. The yelling stopped, so I retreated back to the floor, and only when I was flat on my back did I allow myself to breathe again. Just as I closed my eyes, another scream could be heard from down the hall; this one sounding more painful than the last.

I lifted myself up again, very slowly this time, and I managed to actually get to my feet and rush to the door. I tried to see down the hall through the tiny window, but I could only see part of the scene that was happening only a few yards away. I couldn't believe that I wasn't the only hostage there. I wasn't alone. As much as one's loneliness can often be cured by knowing that someone else is living a similar situation, I felt more sad than relieved. I hated the fact that someone else was going through the same as I was, and that they were being treated in such a way. This other hostage obviously wasn't backing down, which meant that they possibly had a far worse fate in store for them than I did, if that were even possible.

The yelling got louder and louder and soon penetrated my door. As much as I didn't want to look, I was too curious to see who else was trapped in that hell-hole with me. As the action continued on the other side of the door, more of the scene came into view, and my heart started to pump harder and harder. Just as another deafening yell was let out, the hostage came into view, but this time, the hostage called out my name. It was Troy.

I froze. When Troy caught a glimpse of me through the small window of my cell, I came back to my senses. I pounded on the door with both fists, trying to distract the men who were dragging him away. As the men passed the door with Troy in hand, I could see that his face had been beaten, with a cut over his eyebrow and blood flowing from his nose and lip. I had never felt so heartbroken in all my life than when I saw him like that.