Unravelled Plaits

Awake - Kristina

Wait - what? It isn't usually this dark. Normally, I wake up to sunlight seeping through the crack in my curtains and warming my face, a gentle wake up call of bliss. But just now, I smacked my head against something rough and cold, like concrete almost. Flinching, I press my fingers to where it stings; there's no light whatsoever, but I can feel the blood. It's just a little. But it's enough to let me know I have to sort it out.
Going to swing myself up and out of bed, my bare feet slap against the cold floor.
Okay, slightly weirded out now. One, I have blue fuzzy carpets and two, I don't sleep on the floor.
I'll get up anyway. I'm tired. Possibly deluded. Nothing new. I'll go and clean up this cut and make a coffee, that'll help. Well... five coffees.
Where the hell is the light switch? I swear that damned thing moves. Honestly. I'm like, touching up the wall. Gross. Ew, what if walls made sounds, like "yes, oh god, yeah, search for that light switch, babe!"?
Eurgh, I think I'm going to barf. The light can wait, I think.
And now the door is jammed. For god's sake! I really need a coffee for this... Tragic? Yes, tragic. I really need five coffees for this tragic morning, ugh. Five coffees blacker than my soul.
Muwahaha. I really need to lighten up. Sheesh.
I'm walking over to the bed to lie down another while (aka, 48hours more), when I hear a rattling, grating sound - the door's being opened from the outside?
"Ellie," I call. "Ells, is that you? It's jammed. You might have to get dad," I'm almost shouting, but I get no response. What's up with her?
The door bursts open to reveal a... Guy. And yes, I would probably say he's hot from what I can see of his body shape and jawline. But who is he? I can't even see anything else because the only light is a dim glow from outside.
"Hey- she's awake," he calls. His voice has a kind of husk to it, and he's speaking in low tones. A brighter light flickers on outside, granting me more sight.
I can feel bile rising in my throat.
This isn't my bedroom.
This isn't my home.
"Oh..." He has an almost confused look on his (I was right; extremely fit, plus he looks my age...) face. "You... they said you were pretty, they didn't say beautiful..." He trails off. Is this random dude flirting with me? Oh well- I'm certainly not complaining.
"Jeez, I'm sorry but I have to be brutal. I know how you're feeling, I was taken, too, and I wish I wasn't here having to drag the most beautiful girl I've ever seen out to her captors, even less to be one of her captors, but I have to. I'm sorry," he repeats and he's walking over; my heart's pummelling my chest like a wild animal. What's he doing? He pulls a strip of cloth out and binds it round my mouth. A gag.
"I really am so, so sorry," he whispers, voice almost breaking. He grabs my wrist and pulls me up, half leading, half dragging me out to the hallway. I feel like crying, like vomiting, like screaming, but I can't. I mustn't. I have to stay strong.
My bare feet scuffle and trip on the harsh ground. Regaining my composure as much as I can, I walk as if he hadn't used the word captors, and he loosens his grip slightly. He jerks me into a plain room with nothing but a table, a chair with ropes around it, and three men smoking cigarettes who all turn to stare at us.
"Sh-she's awake..." murmurs the boy. He pushes me into the room and walks away, but not before I notice one spot of wet on the floor, one tear sized drop.