You Belong To Me

Chapter six:

Scott was still seated in the chair watching The man waltz around the kitchen, washing the dishes and putting leftovers in the fridge (all of which he probably planned to feed Scott over time). Scott sat with a mock expression of content and a disguise of being comfortable in his posture. The man either didn't notice Scott's act, or he already planned around it.

"I'm not going to lock your door tonight." The man said softly, his back still to Scott.

"W-what?" He said, unable to disguise the stammer in his voice. He cursed it. He had his body all put together, but he couldn't seem to get his voice in control.

"I was thinking about it, and I want you to feel a sense of solidarity without it being forced." The man said. His voice was kind, but it unsettled Scott. "So go on, doll. Or would you like me to take you to your room?" The man said, walking to the other side of the table and propping his head on his hands as he grinned at Scott, his head was slightly tilted.

"Why? How do you know I won't run." Scott dared, squinting at him. It had to be some sort of trick.

"I just know you won't, Scotty. Is it so wrong for me to have some faith in my sweet little pet?" The man said, feigning offense. Scott just swallowed, standing on shaky legs. He felt like his bandaged knees would go out from under him. The wounds still stung.

"Oookay..." Scott whispered and slowly edged away from his chair and towards the entryway to the kitchen. The man just watched, his eye were tracking, but his head never moved from his hands.

"Goodnight, Scotty."

The room was dark and Scott was staring at the blackness above his head. There were no blinds nor curtains over the window, so the eerie emptiness of the forest beyond pressed on Scott's chest like the aching anxiety that had lingered painfully since being kidnapped.

He shuffled, hearing the covers rustle. He shifted again, appreciative of the way that the fabric ruffling filled the pitiful silence. He missed his white noise machine. And his many pillows. And his thick covers, and his plants and his weighted blanket, and his christmas lights that he had hung up over his window year long. He missed his fish, poor thing was probably already dead. He even missed the teddy bear his ex had gotten for him. His chest ached as a silent tear slipped from his eye, and then another one, and then he was choking on sobs as he rolled over and curled into a ball, snot running down his face as he cried uncontrollably.

After sparing enough time of self pity, he sat up, not having fallen asleep yet. He scrubbed his face and sniffled, pressing his thumbs into his eyes. His head felt stuffed with cotton and he couldn't get any air through his clogged nose. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, feeling lightheaded and gross. He stood up and the floor spun for a moment but he refused to sit back down.

Shuffling towards the door he turned the handle, pushing it open, mildly surprised that the man hadn't come to lock him. Though the freak didn't exactly seem like the kind of guy that would go back on his words.

Scott crept into the hallway and down to the bathroom that he had scouted out earlier. Clicking the light on, the bathroom was flooded with dingy yellow light from the mildewing plastic casing around the bulb. He stared at his reflection for the first time in a long time. His hair was a mess and his face was pale. His eyes were dull and the bags were uncharacteristically dark. He looked like a whole different person. A sadder and more malnourished version of himself. He turned the sink on, happy with the clear water and first splashed his face, then held his lips to the stream, drinking like it was his last connection to life. And maybe, if a holistic way, it was.

Once he couldn't possibly drink anymore, he looked up to the mirror again and sighed, frowning. He didn't look like himself at all. Leaving the bathroom and stumbling down the dark hallway again, he paused at the door to where he was sleeping. He didn't want to go back in there now. After a few moments of thinking, he realized, he was out. He could do anything.

After drumming his fingers on the door softly, he turned and faced the hallway again, a new sense of determination. He tiptoed down it, slinking every so softly to prevent settling his weight. This section of the house was completely unfamiliar to him. Suddenly, a gentle light flooded the hall. When Scott looked up from his feet, he saw another door. This one was bordered with windows, including a big one over the top. He dashed silently to the window and pressed his face against it, he saw nothing but woods. There was a light hanging on the front porch, though, which offered some visual. Beyond the porch was inky darkness.

He gingerly tested the handle, but of course it was locked. He bit the inside of his lip, how fast would the man go if he shattered one of the windows? A flashback of the chase before he was caught shot through his mind and he shook his head, quickly deciding against the option of breaking anything. To his left and right were two large rooms. The right had two couches and a fireplace, the room to his left was familiar, though. There was a grand piano and some bookshelves and he realized this room had two entrances. This was the second one.

Scott looked back to the right and peaked into the room. The temperature was significantly warmer and he saw glowing embers in the fireplace. The man was just here mere minutes ago. Scott froze, eyes darting around in paranoia. But what would the man do? He left his room unlocked, surely he expected Scott to explore? He crept further into the room and saw there was a staircase along the wall he was peaking around. There was another floor to this house. Where was he?

Edging further into the room, he decided against the staircase and, instead stood in the center of the rooms. Every wall had large windows, all adorned with shades and beautiful curtains, though they were just as dingy as the ones in the kitchen. This room also had another entryway to the kitchen. Because of a little hallway, though, Scott wasn't able to see this room from the kitchen. Turning in a slow circle, Scott's eyes stopped on a door beneath the staircase. The only place it could lead would be down because of a hallway. Unless it was a closet.

Scott gently turned the nob and it opened. He immediately scratched "closet" off of the possibilities of what the door could lead to. There was a descent of carpeted stairs. Scott looked behind him and felt a giddy surge of adrenaline. He stepped through the door and gently cracked it behind him. Three inches exactly. He memorized how big the gap was to assure himself and then gently crept down the stairs. There was a light on and for a second, Scott thought it was the man. But after he hit the bottom step, he knew there was no one but him down there.

The room was small and the wall directly adjacent to him was lined with four massive coolers that his dad had to store his deer meat. Scott frowned, pressing his lips together. The gently tipped one of the lids with a tentative finger and peaked inside. There were, indeed, packages wrapped in white butcher paper.

Scott inspected them closet and saw scrawled handwriting saying "stomach" and "intestine". His frown deepened as his heart beat began speeding up, the pounding hurt his chest. He picked one up and saw one word on the back of it:

Woman #1: bicep

Scott yelped and dropped the meat, the cooler lid slammed down loudly and he spun around, the ground spinning horrifically. He saw the wall the stairs were implanted on and saw so many tools. So many different butchering instruments. The wall to his left had a bench and the wall to his right had a large metal sink. He gagged. And then rushed back up the stairs, stumbling over two of them and crawled up the rest.

He rushed from the basement and down the hallway and back to his room where he barred his door with a desk chair and hid under the covers, his stomach still turning and his vision still swimming. His own problems were forgotten for a moment. His fear taking over him. He didn't even notice that the basement door was wide open instead of cracked.

I will be creating a map of the house and surrounding area as soon as I get the time! This is also the 6,817 word mark!