White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

It was dark. Too dark. The pounding behind my lids wouldn't quit, and it took a considerable amount of effort to lift my head up, to try and remember what had happened.

That's when I noticed my arms were numb. And immovable.

Someone had tied me up.

I swallowed uncontrollably and tried to bring breath back into my body, willing myself to calm down and not let the panic take over. Everything was moving – fast and then slow. Fast and slow. My mind felt trapped in an impenetrable fog, twisting my thoughts into hyper distortion...

Things moving in the darkness – misshapen, bizarre shapes. I couldn't focus. Just breathe. Something bad. This was a terrible, horrifying place. I knew this to be a fact, but couldn't remember why.

Where are we?

Peter.

What about Peter?

Peter – he knows. Only he knows.

Knows what?

Where I am.

Do we know any self-defense? Any knowledge whatsoever that would help us escape this situation?

No. We're useless.

How about we try moving our limbs – just as a start.

Was I conversing with the voice in my own head? I was going crazy. Shadows danced and taunted me from a distance. Time and place and meaning was moving, shapeshifting in the murky blackness. I was dizzy, teetering, numb.

A window was always an easy escape route. There's bound to be one somewhere. I could find a way to pry one open and race across the street, where I could catch someone's attention and alert the world of my whereabouts. The only problem with this plan was that my hands were completely bound to the back of me. I weakly tugged against the restraints, realizing that I had been bound all the way up to my forearms and shoulders. The rope wrapped itself across my entire torso.

This was bad, bad news.

Cringing through the spasming pain, I tried to move my fingertips. Pinpricks of a thousand tiny knives shot up my arm and around my restrained shoulder. Like the sensation of pins and needles – only a thousand times stronger. My blood circulation had been dangerously cut off. I bit my lip to stop a sound from bursting forth, trying to focus my mind and body towards one single task. Trying to move.

My bladder pressed against the ropes painfully.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, I could freely wriggle my entire right hand without much discomfort. Using what little room it had, my hand tried to feel around the tightly-wound rope, looking for a knot which could be loosened and untied.

I found none.

Now there was no stopping the terror as it pounded through me. My breathing became labored, and the darkness that surrounded me seemed to close in like a dark, impenetrable shroud.

Oh God. This bloodcurdling darkness was a place in my mind. A forgotten room of my childhood, unlocked and unbridled. And something was terribly wrong with me – the fog was beginning to close in. I was imagining and fearing what wasn't there. My fear forming dreadful shapes. The rope which shackled me had become tightly-wound snakes. Slithering, moving upwards, hissing menacingly.

"Help!" I screamed, thrashing around as hard as I could to loosen its deadly hold. Waiting for the stinging bite that would end me. Tears stung my eyes. "Help me, please! Somebody! Help!"