Missing

19

Chapter Nineteen

The Next Day

I had been thrown into a room that was what can only be described as a cell; it had dirtied walls and nothing more than a frayed blanket to keep me warm in the hostile environment. There was no clock to tell me what the hour was, how many days went by. I didn't realise how little time I would spend there, how it would all be over before I could even comprehend the situation I was in.

"Breakfast," a voice said and I turned to face the tattooed man who had been so aggressive the day before, the one who had thrust his hand under my chin forcing me to accept my fate. His eyes gleamed as he handed over the plate and I was expecting something disgusting to be splattered onto it. It was quite the opposite. It was a bacon sandwich.

"Thank you," I mumbled, not wanting to disrespect the man; he appeared to me as the boss, the most powerful. The one who could do the most damage.

"Got to keep you healthy," he grunted, not smiling at me. When he left I devoured the food, savouring every single mouthful. I didn't know how many more good meals they would give me. I didn't know how many meals I would be alive for.

Nobody came for what felt like eternity, the silence in the room pushed me to a corner where I hugged my knees trying to escape the bitter coldness that never seemed to leave. It followed me as a I paced around the small space, it was like a teasing shadow. My hands became numb, they didn't shake like they had before; no matter how hard I tried I couldn't warm them back up again.

***

The knock at the door echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls until the noise faded away into the walls.

"Come in," I shouted halfheartedly, I didn't want to see them, the cruel ones who had captured me. That ones that were using me against my will.

Two women walked in, their heads bowed as if they couldn't face me or if they were too afraid. One was much shorter than the other, her blonde hair sweeping over her face meaning I couldn't see who was to take me to my fate. The other was the woman I had seen the day before who looked like someone I would think lived around my area. A typical suburban mum who I never imagine interacting with the I people I had seen. She seemed so out of place alongside people with tattoos of skulls plastered on their faces.

They didn't speak, they didn't even look at me as they grabbed me up from where I was sat, they ignored my cries for help. As I was taken out of the cell I looked back desperately, wondering how long it would be till I saw the bare walls again- whether I would see the bare walls again.

We climbed up the steps that I had been taken down the day before, surfacing on the ground floor where I had spent time the day before tied up on a chair. We climbed another two flights of stairs before we stopped outside a room with an excessive amount of bolts of the outside of it.

"This is your new room," the blonde woman said in a monotone voice, showing no sign of sympathy for me.

"What was the point of having the other room?" I asked in vain, hoping someone would share some light on the seeming absurd situation.

"To discipline you," the suburban mum said quietly, her voice softer. She sounded like she was about to cry. She was too weak, too kind to kidnap a person; but then again she did have a dying child that she needed to save which overruled her morals. That child was her first priority.

The door was opened to reveal a slightly more furnished room- this one had a bed! Walking inside I felt the two women's presence behind me and I turned to face them quizzically. Why were they sticking around? Without speaking again they led me to the bathroom which already had a bath that was full of water.

"Wash," the blonde barked at me and with that they left me for some privacy which I was glad of. Slowly removing my clothes and dropping them on the floor I tentatively placed one toe in the water. It was ice cold. Of course, I thought to myself; they wouldn't run me a lovely steaming hot bath.

After immersing my body in the water I felt goosebumps rise on my arms from the cold, my teeth chattered and I imagined my lips were turning more blue by the second. Rubbing my scalp with some soap I tried to speed up the process as much as I could, every second I spent in that bath I wanted to jump out and run to my bed where I could wrap myself in the warm. I hoped they wouldn't check the thoroughness of my cleaning as I made my brash movements trying to remove the dirt from my body that had come from spending time in the cell.

Leaving the bathroom I found the bedroom empty, I had been expecting the two women to still be standing there waiting to give me another order. The silence in the room was more bearable than in the cell, at least I had things to do. Some books had been left for me, titles including Harry Potter and The Hunger Games, which showed they did care about my well being- just for the wrong reasons. They just wanted me to like them enough that I would give my own life to them because of Mark's stupid actions. I wouldn't fall into their hands, I wouldn't play their games.

As many people that have been kidnapped do, the first thing I searched for was an exit; I spent hours looking for windows, loose floorboards, small holes, thinking of plans I could use to escape. I should have thought of more advanced plans rather than just punching whoever came next to the door and then run. I knew about kidnapping cases, the ways people managed to escape. But those victims always used trust as a major part of their miraculous escape. I didn't nearly have enough time to gain the trust of my capturers.

There was no escape. I had to be saved.