Hostage// H.S

11

The next night was the same as the previous- nightmares.

I didn't have a clue as to why I was having them so often, though, maybe it was the fact I was locked in a serial killers house. Waking up sweaty with your heart beating is never a good awakening. But even more so when you shoot up in bed, realizing your quite literally in a nightmare.

Tears flooded my eyes, streaming down my cheeks.

My shaking hands lifted the duvet cover off of me, peering over at Harry who was still shirtless and asleep. His arm was slung over his pillow. His body was radiating heat, making me feel more sweaty than before. My feet found the floor, shuffling around the carpet towards Harry's door. Turning it slowly I was able to get it open without a squeak to wake Harry.

Biting my lip, I slipped past the small entry and out into the hallway.

I peered into the bathroom, noticing nothing interesting. There were no windows there. I kept going down the hall before I reached the opening into the rest of the house. I held on to the corner of the wall, peaking my head out into the living room.

All the lights were off, the tv was off and the remote was laid resting on top of it. Harry's paintings looked at me from above the wall. Each girls eyes pierced me with sadness and guilt, screaming, warning me to hurry up. It was a strange sort of feeling. Victim to victim, it wasn't a friendship, but a fucked up bond each one had with each other. Like we only talked to each other for some comfort, because everyone understood the circumstances. Everyone was in the same boat.

Swallowing thickly, I turned my attention to the front door. It was bolted, but if now was any good opportunity I was going to take the chance.

I scurried towards the front door, being careful not to make noise.

My hands met the cold metal of the bolt, fumbling with it to try and get it unlocked. It's thick heavy weight held in my hands, my eyes peering into the lock, I stuck my fingernail into the bolt to try and hear the holy grail sound I was looking for. But no matter how long I wriggled with it, it wouldn't budge.

Cursing, I pulled it. It jiggled with itself for a few moments, and after some turning and more fumbling the lock fell to the floor. My heart rate picked ip immensely, and for a minute I thought maybe this might be my chance.

This was the first ray of hope I was given since my arrival.

A small smile pulled at my lips, my hands turning the knob of the front door. The warm night air hit my face as the door opened, revealing my first look at the outside world in days. A beautiful moon was out, high in the sky.

Harry's house was surrounded by woods. Nothing but trees.

But I wasn't staying here any longer, and so my feet planted on his porch, my instincts kicked in. And I was out the door. I looked around for a few seconds, looking for any signs of life. I didn't even know where I was. I was expecting to see a typical neighborhood when I exited the house, peering around the porch poles. But instead all you could see for miles was nothing but trees.

Now let me go back to feeling that sheer ray of hope. In most kidnapping cases I had seen on the news they talked about how they had many times where that ray of hope was shattered. And for me mine lasted mere seconds before I was gripped by the back of the neck harshly and thrown back inside.

I couldn't register what had happened, only seeing the moons rays quickly disappear behind the same door I had just opened. The door was slammed shut. And the padlock was put back on, the sound of the key locking it shattering that ray of hope I had.

I was pulled again by the neck, a strong fist in my hair to crane my head back where I was met with a very angry looking man.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He spat. My heart raced, my breathing shallow as I felt the taught fingertips dig into my skin. He really could snap my neck right here if he wanted too.

"I-I- I was, I just wanted to s-see the moon!" I came up with the quickest excuse I could muster in that moment of pure fear. Harry's eyes were so dark, filled with rage, and I was almost sure I could feel all his veins popping from his arms as he held me down into him.

Harry looked at me for a few moments, finally letting me go.

"Get back in bed." He spat again, grabbing a gun from his living room drawer. I quickly scurried back to his bedroom, almost running from him. I could hear his footsteps march down the hall.

Was he going to kill me?

I shakily got in bed, flipping the covers over my body as Harry walked in. He closed and locked his door this time with the key he had pulled from somewhere. He jiggled the door knob, pulling at it for a few seconds to make sure I couldn't get it open if I got the chance again. His hands left the door, placing his gun on the nightstand.

I watched him get into bed with an aggravated huff, pushing his dark curls back. His hand came down to my thigh, pulling me closer to him, flipping my leg under his. My face was pushed into his tattooed chest. The warmth from his body soon took over me as we collided and it made it hard to sleep. I wanted to find some sort of comfort in the concept that I was spared tonight from his wrath. I wasn't dead, even after trying to escape- and almost succeeding.

Almost.