From Darker Shores

Chapter 7 - Locked In

I swam through darkness barely aware of my surroundings, with no real concept of time passing. Occasionally I resurfaced, like a diver coming up for air out of a deep ocean of unconsciousness, only to be dragged back under a moment later.

When I finally found the strength to open my eyes, I was lying on the floor of an unfamiliar room.

It was small and stark.

There was a door in the corner and a single, narrow window covered with a muslin drape. A thin shaft of pale-yellow light crept under the fabric into the room, scattering dust motes in swirling arcs through the stale air.

I wondered foggily how long I'd been asleep if it was already daylight outside.

I tried to sit up, but stopped as my head screamed in protest and my stomach somersaulted. I felt awful, worse than any frat party hangover I'd ever had at college. Wrapping an arm around myself and trying not to move too much, I looked around.

A basin and toilet stood in the corner behind me, along with an iron bedstead. This was the only piece of furniture in the room. 

The mattress on the bed was thin with only a single blanket covering it, but it looked a damned sight more comfortable than the floor.

I tried to pull myself onto it.

Even this small movement was too much though. I barely managed to crawl to the toilet in time and when I'd finally finished retching and dry heaving I was exhausted.

Why did I feel so sick?

I clutched at the porcelain bowl with white-knuckled hands, my mind was foggy, like it was filled with grey smoke.

Where was I? Why wasn't I at back at the flat?

All I had were fragments, scattered pieces of a jigsaw too incomplete and random to form a picture from.

The feeling of being gathered up in someone's arms.

The smell of salt on a sea breeze.

The sound of someone crying – perhaps me, perhaps someone else.

As I wiped away the tendrils of spittle from my mouth, I realised my clothes were different. Last I remembered I'd been wearing a skirt and blouse, but now I wore a blue dress. I rubbed the cheap cotton material between my fingers, frowning.

These clothes weren't mine. Had something happened to my old ones?

And then I remembered. It hit like lightning out of a clear sky.

The cops.

That jet.

I felt myself start to tremble.

My hand went to my neck where their needle had pierced my skin.

I remembered how cold it had felt.

No, this wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

I looked around the room again with new eyes and realised the true, unbelievable reality of where I was and what had happened to me.

I had been drugged and kidnapped by those two madmen masquerading as cops. 

They had stripped me and changed my clothes. They had put me in this room.

I scrambled across the room, grabbing the brass door handle in both hands. I tried turning it but nothing happened. The door didn't budge so much as an inch.

I was locked in.

The panic was swelling like a tsunami inside me now.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening!

I began to cry. 

"Please! Please! Help me! Someone!" I pulled on the handle for all I was worth and when that failed, I pounded on the door with my fists.

Why had they brought me here? Why was I locked in this room?

To be raped or murdered or both, my mind told me. That's the only reason men abduct women.

I started to scream. "HELP ME! PLEASE! PLEASE! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? PLEASE! LET ME OUT!"

When the door wouldn't move, I tried the window. Outside was nothing but a bare courtyard surrounded by high brick walls. I tried to force the window open but there was no catch, and the glass was nearly an inch thick. I slammed my fists into it anyway, then my elbow, then my shoulder, but the window was as solid as the door.

I tried banging on the walls, on the floor, even standing on the bed to hammer on the ceiling. I knew deep in my soul that if I could get someone, anyone, to hear me then I could be saved. I could get out of this place.

If I could just make myself heard...

But hours passed and still no one came, not even to tell me to be quiet. If there was anyone out there, they either couldn't hear me or didn't care.

When my voice finally went hoarse then disappeared completely, and I no longer had the strength to stand, I crumpled to the floor and cried.

The silence that replaced my screams was almost as deafening. I heard nothing, absolutely nothing. Not a voice or footstep or whisper of wind. It was as quiet as a crypt.

In a way that was the worst part of it – the silence. I wanted something, anything. Just to hear another human voice would have been enough. Just to know that I hadn't simply been locked in a room and left to die.

I felt so utterly and completely alone I couldn't stand it. Dragging the blanket from the bed I curled up in the corner and thought of home.

I wondered if they knew I was missing yet. Luca would have come home this morning to find me missing. He would have tried calling my phone and gotten no answer.

Would he have gone to my parents' house? Would Frank have called the police? Would he and Luca be out looking for me? Was Mom and Janie waiting on the sofa, hoping I'd walk through the front door any second?

My tears stung.

"I just want to go home," I whispered to the silence. "I want to see Mom."

I wanted Mom to hold me and let me cry against her like I had when I was little. To wipe away my tears and tell me everything was going to be alright.

But I knew deep down that nothing was alright.

I had no idea who had taken me or why. I didn't know what they were going to do to me, and I sure as hell couldn't stop them from doing it. I could die here, and no one would ever know.

Was I ever going to see my family again, ever see Luca again?

I began to sob, crying out for them into the silence.

Hours might have passed.

When I finally ran out of tears, I sat limp and leaden, staring at the arc of light from the window crawl its way across the floor.

My voice was gone, hands scabbed with blood and bruises from my banging.

I felt hollow as an empty husk when I finally curled into a ball on the bed and fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.