Hope «h.s.»

Thirty-Seven.

Chapter 37:

When I woke up, I was peaceful for an odd reason. I had dreamed of my mother and her beautiful essence, even on the day she left.

I stared at a cement ceiling and ironically smiled. I had no clue what I was doing, but the iridescent picture of my mother came to me like a vivid flashback.

I realized I was laying on a stiff bed with one thin sheet over me and a straw pillow beneath my head when the metal door to my right creaked open. One would think if I was being held captive here, that they would at least shut the door fully if not locking or bolting it.

It was a strange room. A long window was at the top of the tall ceiling, letting the only source of light enter the room. A toilet sat in an adjacent corner and that's when it felt like I was in a prison cell. I cleared my throats and as expected, it echoed through the hollow room.

Sliding my feet over the edge of the bed, I found I had no socks nor shoes on. The rest of my outfit, intact. A rope was oddly tied around my wrists as I tried to lift myself up. A felt an instant burn with even the slightest movement of my hands. The ground was cold. I yelped when ignorantly putting them on the floor the first time. I took a deep breath before standing.

I peaked my head around the corner. It was a hallway leading two ways. To the left I heard two men's voices talking and echoing  effortlessly through the hall. I jumped from the doorframe and hid behind the open door. They simply passed.

There were no noises after that, so I followed the men with a great distance between them and I.

I ended up secluded in a dark room. I lost track of the men I was following after a while.

The room was pitch black as I entered through the door. It almost slammed shut behind me. A chair sat in the middle of the room with a wide spotlight on it.

It was interesting to say the least. I heard no voices so I thought, why not just steadily walk to the middle. Maybe there is something on the other side...

"There she is" is the last thing I heard before I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my right shoulder. I fell to my knees in pain and screamed. Where was I? What have I gotten into?

•••

This time I thought about Harry. I was now worried, so I thought how worried he would be about my whereabouts. I should have never left school.

I missed him. I saw his rare smile and heard his throaty laugh under my eyelids and thought about how much I needed his touch right now, his warmth. I needed him. During this haze was the first time I realized I felt cold without it. I felt cold and numb without him.

Some may say it was young love, but I thought it could have become much, much more. This was not my parents situation, it was Harry and I.  And all I could think about was how much I needed him at this very moment. I shook and grabbed my head with my tied hands without opening my eyes. I was going to cry. Was I even awake? I was going to cry.

That's when I felt my shoulder pain again. I was laying on my right side, putting all the pressure on the pain. I quickly rolled to my back and grunted.

With all the self-will I had left, I opened my eyes slowly. I was in some sort of huge open space... a garage maybe? It was definitely colder than the other room so, naturally, I shivered. My teeth started chattering non-stop. 

I lifted myself up from the cool ground. It felt like someone had tossed me into this hard floor to die. It was the worst feeling ever.

Suddenly I heard two clicks and a some sort of moving noise. A female voice filled the room.

"I cannot believe he sent me to fetch her," the woman said.

I closed my eyes and curled up in a ball. My feet were now tied together so I could not get up and run. I shivered and waited for her approach.

"Hello?" the woman said in a monotone voice.

I lifted my head to look at her.

She looked in her forties but she was beautiful nonetheless. Long, straight brown hair cascaded down her back perfectly and her olive skin seemed to only have little to no damage from age. The woman seemed familiar like my first grade teacher or something but I could not point it out.

"You take care of her Jazz," she said suddenly to the man behind her. Her expression was shocked as she turned away and ran back in the direction they came from.

The guy, Jazz, came into my view. He was dark skinned, tall, and as muscular as a guy could get. A shiver went down my spine as the door slammed shut behind the woman.

"Get up," Jazz ordered. His voice was not harsh but not exactly welcoming. I tried my hardest to stand but my bound feet prevented me from doing so. When he got sick of my struggling, he grabbed my upper arm and effortlessly planted me on my feet. He crouched down to untie my feet.

"You better not run," he said a bit more sternly. I gulped. I wanted to live, so of course I would not run.

"Follow me," he said which I saw no point in as he went and dragged me by my forearm.

No one seemed to be in this building or at least showing their faces. It seemed empty as we passed door after door. My arm was getting sore from the rope and Jazz's tight hold. I bit back a yelp when it was getting hard to remain calm.

We stopped in front of the last door of the hall. I took a deep breath when Jazz removed his grip from my arms.

As I looked around, it seemed like we were in a bathroom. Carpet surrounded my toes and I curled them against the warmth.

Jazz untied my wrists to see them blood-red and cut up. I hissed at my new wounds. I could feel his eyes studying me.

"Okay," he said casually now as if his tough tone was just for show. "Undress."

I took a step back in pure fear when he didn't move an inch.

"Oh come on? Are you scared of a little skin?" Jazz taunted. "I'm offering you a chance to shower and fix your matted hair. You're quite lucky."

I just stood there.

"Well come on," he pushed.

I took a deep breath before answering. "Could you leave?"  My voice came out as a squeak.

He laughed without even moving his teeth. "Oh sure, whatever you say Miss Armstrong." He teasingly bowed before me and shut the door.

A second later Jazz quickly cracked it open. "I would lock it if I were you," he said and slammed it for the last time.