"Lana, wake up. I want to take you somewhere." I heard Kilo knock at my door.
I stayed in the bed with my eyes shut. After yesterday, I felt terrible. I'd given into temptation and engaged in oral sexual intercourse with one of my kidnappers. What if this was a trick? What if they were recording me to send to the police to build a façade so it'd seem like I wasn't missing, but ran away?
I pulled the covers over my head and snuggled up, all the while, keeping quiet. He knocked and knocked for minutes on end making me think of what we did yesterday. Tears welled in my eyes and I wasn't too sure if it was because I gave in, I was tired of my surroundings, or both.
Kilo sighed and it sounded like he was now leaning against the door, maybe resting his forehead on it, "Solana, please. Open the door. I'll have to call Slim. Or worse..."
Worse, who or what could be worse than Slim?
"What's worse than Slim?" I let slip from my lips unconscious that I'd spoken until later.
"I-I wish I could tell you, I do. But, it'd hurt you so bad, I wouldn't want to be the bearer of bad news, baby."
Baby? I smiled a little bit, only because Kendrick called me that when I'd sneak over to his house and we'd cuddle and watch movies on his bed. His mother didn't really care if I went upstairs with him, whether she was there or not.
"Kilo please, do not call me that." I groaned.
"S-Sorry." He apologized. "Are you upset? You let me call you that last night."
"Yes, I'm upset!" I cried, "I'm being held against my will in this bullshit house, in God knows where, I let someone who's in on my fucking kidnap give me head, and I just want to go home got-damn it! How could I not be upset?!"
Kilo said nothing after this, but I heard the thud of the black Timberlan boots he always wore get lighter and lighter until they disappeared. I rolled my eyes and cried. After our "relations" last night, Kilo locked my ankles back up, so I was back to square one. Bored, hungry, and fed up.
Five (agonizing) hours later...
I laid solemnly on the bed humming a tune to my favorite Janelle Monáe song, Sally Ride. It was dark and I figured about nine or ten o'clock, needless to say, everyone had retired to their rooms. The only light that was provided came from the curtained, blindless window in the corner of my room.
I looked around the room and scanned everything thoroughly. There had to be something in here to help me out of these shackles and out of this house. My eyes profiled over the dresser.
African figurine, candle, jewelery box, a set of keys, Bobby pins...
"A set of keys!" I whispered jubilantly.
Now, how was I supposed to get over there? I spent about ten minutes before I decided I would crawl to the foot of the bed, keep my feet on the foot-board they were chained to, to maintain stability and use the length of my body as a bridge to get me within arm's reach of the dresser. I reached and my hand just barely made it onto the surface. My hand tapped around the surface. Bobby pins, candle, keys!
My pulse quickened as I grabbed the ring, slid them off and took a seat near the foot of the bed. Hopefully, one of these were for my shackles.
I tried about five before I got discouraged. There was only one left. I keyed the lock and there was no click, no release, nothing. Obviously, I was desperate, so I flipped the key and tried again. It worked!
Frantically, I opened each ankle bracelet and rushed to the window trying to keep as quiet as possible. It looked pretty old and unbothered so it took me a while to actually unlock it and lift it. As soon as I did, a small beep sounded. An alarm, I thought. I paused to see if anyone had noticed. There were no footsteps, so I continued to try and pry the screen off.
Of course, it didn't budge, so I searched the room for something to cut it with. Just as I picked up the keys and returned to the window, the door busted open.
Slim stood there, a grimace on his face. "Where the fuck you think you goin', hoe?" He growled.
Kendrick Lamar in MultiMedia
