Short Storyy
The walls reeked of mold and the dampness hung in the air, like a cloud hovering. I couldn’t see anything really, except the fact that I was alone, and in a dangerously dark and damp room, oh yeah, with my hands and feet tied to a chair. Not quite the best situation to be in. I saw a sliver of light on the ground, about five feet away from my chair. It shone enough for me to make out my prada shoes. They were caked with thick mud, and were thrown in a corner, abandoned. Tears started falling, wetting my cheeks and smearing my Bobbi Brown mascara. Where was I? What were they going to do with me? Am I going to live? Questions and anxieties began to crash down on me like a tidal wave. But I had to start thinking clearly, now. There was no use in panicking. If only I could get my hand loose….then I could….
“Ah, so she is awake.” I heard him say. I felt every hair on my body stand on its end. He was here. Oh god. Paul then walked up to me, slowly; his lips curling as if he found me amusing, or more like he was ravenous and he had found a juicy little morsel. I stared into his deep, bottomless, baby blue, eyes. I couldn’t believe that I had once found them so attractive.
“You, bastard!” I spat venomously. He smiled at me, this time showing me his brilliant and perfect white teeth. He came closer and closer to me, until I could feel his hot breath down the nape of my neck. His hand caressed my tear stained cheek, then his soft voice filled my ears.
“You’re mine now.”
I put up a pretty decent fight, considering the fact that one, my hands were tied together, and two he weighed twice my size. The only good thing was I wasn’t tied to the chair and he had cut my feet free, only though for his own benefits. **********
I desperately tried to disappear from this world, willing myself not to feel a thing and forcing my mind to think of other things. My mother would probably be worried sick. I could picture her small slender frame, pacing the living room, her high heels clicking on the wood floor. My father would be at home consoling my mother, and making sure everything was running smoothly in the household. But when no one was watching he would fiddle with his glasses mumbling to himself. Vanessa would probably still be up in her room, writing poems and what not. Alex… I had no clue what Alex was thinking or doing. He probably was still furious with me. I felt shame; I should have listened to his warnings about Paul. But I admit I was jealous that he was flirting with other girls, so I pretended not to care. Oh why didn’t I listen to him?
“Shit,” Paul groaned. The phone screamed above us. His wet and slimy lips were still on me. He lifted his heavy body off of me, his shirtless silhouette towering over me. Any heroine would have kicked him and ran. But I wasn’t brave. I had seen him recover quickly; like the time Samantha kicked him…He smiled at me then petted my head and then whispered. “I’ll be back.” I watched as he made it up the stairs, sauntering slowly, step by step. Then I heard the door click. I had ten minutes.
I had to think fast. I struggled to my feet, searching for something to cut the duct tape. Nine minutes left…My cell phone! I could call…I ran near my shoes, no such luck. I shook my head that was one of the first things Paul would have taken. Eight minutes left…I squinted to see if there were any windows; I could scarcely make out a window, barely the size of my waist, about eight feet away from where I was and it was another four feet higher than me. Shit. I couldn’t reach that, let alone my hips wouldn’t be able to squeeze though the window. I quickly moved toward the window near the back of the room there was a door. “Please open, please open.” I prayed. But my prayers weren’t answered. It was locked. Shit. Six more minutes left…I couldn’t see a way out of this. I had to keep going. There was a mirror near the door. It was a large Victorian mirror, covered with a thin blanket of dust. I could break the mirror and use one of the shards to get my hands free. Then what? Threaten Paul with a shard of glass? How far would that even get me? I had to get my hands free though. I focused and braced myself for what I was going to do.
The pain was absolutely awful. The blood kept seeping down my elbows, and staining my once perfectly manicured nails, and my brand new blouse from Anna Sui, which was now ruined. The shards of broken glass were scattered all around me. Shit. I needed my shoes, well, I wanted my shoes. I shook my head, I needed to stay calm, and not let the pain take over. I took a deep breath. And found the biggest and sharpest piece of glass. And after a struggle of working the shard, I finally cut my hands free. They were a bloody mess and they hurt like no other.
I now had two minutes…Shit. I carefully made my way past the door, keeping a look out for any shards of glass that could cause more damage to me, when I noticed that there was a bookcase that crept up near the ceiling. I ran up to it, stumbling. And grasped the old shelves and shook them violently. The bookcase stood there, as if wondering why I was wasting my time trying to knock the shelves down. Perfect. There was also a bathroom, but there was nothing except for a sink and a lamp that lifelessly hung on a long cord above. The pipes were intact but they were leaking profusely. This gave me an idea. I painfully flicked the lights on in the bathroom, took a deep breath, and then rammed my body into the leaking pipe.
The next thing I knew there was a wall of water was coming at me. It knocked me flat onto my back, causing me to hit my head on the floor. With the wind practically knocked out of me, I lay there soaked to the bone, and then had to cough up some of that sickening water. My head was throbbing from the pain. My hands were torn to shreds. One minute left…I could now hear Paul coming down the stairs. And this time he turned on the lights.
I turned to face him, my hair a perfect mess, and my eyes swollen. He stared at me for a second as if he was wondering who I was, and what I was doing there.
“What the hell did you do that for!?” He wanted to know. I couldn’t actually remember. But I knew I had to get on top of the sink. The water curled at our feet, still rushing out, soaking everything up, and swallowing it whole. And the smell, the smell was dreadful, the water reeked of anything dead and it hung in the air.
I stood on the sink, yanking down on the lights chord, while cautiously watching my footing, while the pain shot up from my arms, to my hands.
“Get down from there!” Paul yelled. His face now distorted from anger. “Get down from there, or by God, I’ll fish you out!”
Fish me out. That struck me as amusing. I started to laugh.
“We’ll see how hard you’re laughing,” Paul growled. “When I get through with you, you stupid bitch.”
I stopped laughing all of a sudden.
“Okay, you want to play games?” Paul pulled something from this jacket. It was, I realized, a tiny gun, a twenty two, from the looks of it. I knew this from having watched so many episodes of Cops.
“See this?” He pointed the muzzle directly at me. “I don’t want to have to shoot you.” Then his sickening lips curled. “At least not until we get the money.” I hated him with every single fiber in my body.
I straightened, but I didn’t put the light down. I tugged it so it came down almost touching the murky water. My hands were now bleeding generously, and the pain. The pain was excruciating. I almost kneeled down in the water, from the pain. But I didn’t care; I didn’t have enough time to care.
“Put the light down.” Paul said through gritted teeth. “Or I swear I’ll shoot.” His eyes grew dark; the blue in them seemed to vanish in an empty abyss. I then did what he said.
Well, sort of. That is, I wrapped the cord that was attached to the light around my left hand, wincing in pain. Then with my other hand, I yanked the bulb so that the cord came popping right out of the back of the socket. I stood there holding the lamp in one hand and the cord with the frayed wires now sticking out of one end of it in the other.
“Great,” Paul growled now. “You broke the lamp. You really showed me. Now”-his voice rose-“get down here!” I adjusted my footing on the sink. And glared down at him, he was in the water, which was now knee deep.
“I am not,” I informed him, “stupid.”
Paul gestured to his gun. “Whatever you say. Just-”
“Nor,” I added, seething with anger and hatred “Am I a bitch.” Paul’s eyes widened. Suddenly my plan became clear to him.
“No!” he shrieked.
But it was too late. I had already thrown the cord into the murky water at Paul’s feet. There was a brilliant blue flash and a lot of popping noises. Paul screamed, loud enough to wake the dead itself. And then we were plunged into impenetrable darkness.
I waited, straining my ears, I couldn’t hear Paul. Shit. Now I couldn’t even see my own hand in front of me. I shut off the light switch and towed the cord out of the water placing it far away from me.
****************
“Ah, so she is awake.” I heard him say. I felt every hair on my body stand on its end. He was here. Oh god. Paul then walked up to me, slowly; his lips curling as if he found me amusing, or more like he was ravenous and he had found a juicy little morsel. I stared into his deep, bottomless, baby blue, eyes. I couldn’t believe that I had once found them so attractive.
“You, bastard!” I spat venomously. He smiled at me, this time showing me his brilliant and perfect white teeth. He came closer and closer to me, until I could feel his hot breath down the nape of my neck. His hand caressed my tear stained cheek, then his soft voice filled my ears.
“You’re mine now.”
I put up a pretty decent fight, considering the fact that one, my hands were tied together, and two he weighed twice my size. The only good thing was I wasn’t tied to the chair and he had cut my feet free, only though for his own benefits. **********
I desperately tried to disappear from this world, willing myself not to feel a thing and forcing my mind to think of other things. My mother would probably be worried sick. I could picture her small slender frame, pacing the living room, her high heels clicking on the wood floor. My father would be at home consoling my mother, and making sure everything was running smoothly in the household. But when no one was watching he would fiddle with his glasses mumbling to himself. Vanessa would probably still be up in her room, writing poems and what not. Alex… I had no clue what Alex was thinking or doing. He probably was still furious with me. I felt shame; I should have listened to his warnings about Paul. But I admit I was jealous that he was flirting with other girls, so I pretended not to care. Oh why didn’t I listen to him?
“Shit,” Paul groaned. The phone screamed above us. His wet and slimy lips were still on me. He lifted his heavy body off of me, his shirtless silhouette towering over me. Any heroine would have kicked him and ran. But I wasn’t brave. I had seen him recover quickly; like the time Samantha kicked him…He smiled at me then petted my head and then whispered. “I’ll be back.” I watched as he made it up the stairs, sauntering slowly, step by step. Then I heard the door click. I had ten minutes.
I had to think fast. I struggled to my feet, searching for something to cut the duct tape. Nine minutes left…My cell phone! I could call…I ran near my shoes, no such luck. I shook my head that was one of the first things Paul would have taken. Eight minutes left…I squinted to see if there were any windows; I could scarcely make out a window, barely the size of my waist, about eight feet away from where I was and it was another four feet higher than me. Shit. I couldn’t reach that, let alone my hips wouldn’t be able to squeeze though the window. I quickly moved toward the window near the back of the room there was a door. “Please open, please open.” I prayed. But my prayers weren’t answered. It was locked. Shit. Six more minutes left…I couldn’t see a way out of this. I had to keep going. There was a mirror near the door. It was a large Victorian mirror, covered with a thin blanket of dust. I could break the mirror and use one of the shards to get my hands free. Then what? Threaten Paul with a shard of glass? How far would that even get me? I had to get my hands free though. I focused and braced myself for what I was going to do.
The pain was absolutely awful. The blood kept seeping down my elbows, and staining my once perfectly manicured nails, and my brand new blouse from Anna Sui, which was now ruined. The shards of broken glass were scattered all around me. Shit. I needed my shoes, well, I wanted my shoes. I shook my head, I needed to stay calm, and not let the pain take over. I took a deep breath. And found the biggest and sharpest piece of glass. And after a struggle of working the shard, I finally cut my hands free. They were a bloody mess and they hurt like no other.
I now had two minutes…Shit. I carefully made my way past the door, keeping a look out for any shards of glass that could cause more damage to me, when I noticed that there was a bookcase that crept up near the ceiling. I ran up to it, stumbling. And grasped the old shelves and shook them violently. The bookcase stood there, as if wondering why I was wasting my time trying to knock the shelves down. Perfect. There was also a bathroom, but there was nothing except for a sink and a lamp that lifelessly hung on a long cord above. The pipes were intact but they were leaking profusely. This gave me an idea. I painfully flicked the lights on in the bathroom, took a deep breath, and then rammed my body into the leaking pipe.
The next thing I knew there was a wall of water was coming at me. It knocked me flat onto my back, causing me to hit my head on the floor. With the wind practically knocked out of me, I lay there soaked to the bone, and then had to cough up some of that sickening water. My head was throbbing from the pain. My hands were torn to shreds. One minute left…I could now hear Paul coming down the stairs. And this time he turned on the lights.
I turned to face him, my hair a perfect mess, and my eyes swollen. He stared at me for a second as if he was wondering who I was, and what I was doing there.
“What the hell did you do that for!?” He wanted to know. I couldn’t actually remember. But I knew I had to get on top of the sink. The water curled at our feet, still rushing out, soaking everything up, and swallowing it whole. And the smell, the smell was dreadful, the water reeked of anything dead and it hung in the air.
I stood on the sink, yanking down on the lights chord, while cautiously watching my footing, while the pain shot up from my arms, to my hands.
“Get down from there!” Paul yelled. His face now distorted from anger. “Get down from there, or by God, I’ll fish you out!”
Fish me out. That struck me as amusing. I started to laugh.
“We’ll see how hard you’re laughing,” Paul growled. “When I get through with you, you stupid bitch.”
I stopped laughing all of a sudden.
“Okay, you want to play games?” Paul pulled something from this jacket. It was, I realized, a tiny gun, a twenty two, from the looks of it. I knew this from having watched so many episodes of Cops.
“See this?” He pointed the muzzle directly at me. “I don’t want to have to shoot you.” Then his sickening lips curled. “At least not until we get the money.” I hated him with every single fiber in my body.
I straightened, but I didn’t put the light down. I tugged it so it came down almost touching the murky water. My hands were now bleeding generously, and the pain. The pain was excruciating. I almost kneeled down in the water, from the pain. But I didn’t care; I didn’t have enough time to care.
“Put the light down.” Paul said through gritted teeth. “Or I swear I’ll shoot.” His eyes grew dark; the blue in them seemed to vanish in an empty abyss. I then did what he said.
Well, sort of. That is, I wrapped the cord that was attached to the light around my left hand, wincing in pain. Then with my other hand, I yanked the bulb so that the cord came popping right out of the back of the socket. I stood there holding the lamp in one hand and the cord with the frayed wires now sticking out of one end of it in the other.
“Great,” Paul growled now. “You broke the lamp. You really showed me. Now”-his voice rose-“get down here!” I adjusted my footing on the sink. And glared down at him, he was in the water, which was now knee deep.
“I am not,” I informed him, “stupid.”
Paul gestured to his gun. “Whatever you say. Just-”
“Nor,” I added, seething with anger and hatred “Am I a bitch.” Paul’s eyes widened. Suddenly my plan became clear to him.
“No!” he shrieked.
But it was too late. I had already thrown the cord into the murky water at Paul’s feet. There was a brilliant blue flash and a lot of popping noises. Paul screamed, loud enough to wake the dead itself. And then we were plunged into impenetrable darkness.
I waited, straining my ears, I couldn’t hear Paul. Shit. Now I couldn’t even see my own hand in front of me. I shut off the light switch and towed the cord out of the water placing it far away from me.
****************