L̸͟͞o̸͟͞c̸͟͞k̸͟͞e̸͟͞d̸͟͞ A̸͟͞w̸͟͞a̸͟͞y̸͟͞❀

Chapter 39

               ◒L⊶e⊶t⊶ G⊶o⊶◓

It has been two long days, 48 hours of solitude in this dark basement. The air is thick and the only sounds are the distant echoes of dripping water and her own shallow breaths. Time has lost all meaning in this oppressive space, where the absence of light feels like a physical weight pressing down on her chest.

Richard may have left her here, yet during her restless sleep, he returned with food and water. She remembers the moment she stirred, the faint rustle of plastic crinkling in the stillness, and the soft clink of a metal container hitting the floor. The cool water soothed her parched throat, a welcome relief that momentarily distracted her from the ache of loneliness. But it did little to ease the emptiness inside her, a hollow void that echoed with her desperate calls for Richard.

“Richard!” she had cried out, her voice hoarse and trembling, but the silence that followed was deafening. Each time she called his name, it felt like a plea that vanished into the shadows, swallowed by the oppressive darkness that surrounded her. She could almost hear the mocking silence in response, a reminder of her isolation and the uncertainty of her fate.

He barely uttered a single word to her, and he won't even allow her to catch a glimpse of him. She believes he only brings her food while she’s asleep, just to escape any conversation, to avoid the weight of her questions and the burden of her pleas. Each time, she awakens to find the tray waiting for her, a stark reminder of her isolation.

Desperation gnaws at her as she stares at the door, willing it to open, to reveal the man who has become both her captor and her only connection to the outside world. She calls out to him, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope, “Please, just let me out! I promise I won’t ask for anything anymore" But there’s only silence in response, a suffocating silence that wraps around her like a shroud.

Richard
Oh, my sweet little one! The way she speaks, each word laced with a heavy sense of remorse, pulls at my heartstrings. I can feel the weight of her regret in every syllable, as if she’s carrying the burden of her choices on her shoulders. It’s evident that she’s come to a profound realization of just how essential I am to her happiness, a truth that seems to have dawned on her only after the distance has grown between us.

Just listen to her pleading; it’s heart-breaking! The desperation in her voice is visible, a raw and unfiltered expression of longing and sorrow. I can almost see the tears welling in her eyes, the way her lips tremble as she struggles to find the right words to convey her feelings. It’s as if she’s reaching out, trying to bridge the gap that has formed, hoping against hope that I can hear her unspoken apologies and the depth of her yearning.

The pain I feel is deeper than the wounds, my love. Your tears have never brought me joy, nor have your cries ever been music to my ears. Each night, as she drifts into slumber, I slip in silently to place her food beside her. In her sleep, she wears a mask of sorrow, the remnants of tears etched on her cheeks, her hands raw from relentless pounding against the door.

As I watch her sleep, as she lies there, a delicate figure wrapped in the cocoon of her own despair, the weight of her suffering pressing down on her like a heavy shroud. I can almost hear the echoes of her silent screams, reverberating in the stillness of the night, a haunting melody that lingers in the air long after she has fallen silent.

With a heavy heart, I take a step closer, my hand trembling as I reach out to touch her cheek, brushing away the remnants of her tears.

I think the time has come to let her out.