Stockholm Syndrome (Jalex)

Day Three

Jack. Day Three - 10:22

When I woke up after being drugged with a combination of things that I'd rather not know the details and in particular, side effects of; I found myself in a lit up room. Unnatural light beaming down from a naked bulb dangerously hanging from the ceiling. Of course there was no natural light: I doubted Alex would even consider that sort of privilege. Despite the fact I'd only known the guy for a few days, I'd picked up a lot regarding his painfully irrational personality and homicidal tendencies. I should definitely be more scared then I am; in afterthought, I think it's probably something to do with the drugs, maybe he's given me some marijuana as well, or something much more dangerous altogether. Most likely the latter - dangerous seemed to be more of his style.

Kidnapping a guy from his own brother's party? That wasn't even reckless, more of plain stupid. Joe would surely notice the fact he was gone, wouldn't he? I hoped he would: despite how much I could hate my brother and no care at all regarding his opinion, I did care if he didn't notice I'd been bloody kidnapped. My kidnapper was rather hot- psychotic and he would probably end up slitting my throat. Stop worrying, Jack; Joe would be at the police station right now.

Joe was at the police station this very second, but in a holding cell rather than to report Jack's disappearance.

I couldn't wait forever, though. God knows what Alex has planned for me. It sounds disgusting to even call him that, give such a cold blooded killer, a name, a person, an identity. No, Alex was that hot, dusty blonde guy that met me at Joe's party, who avoided my awkwardness and talked to me for an hour. Alex was not the guy who kidnapped me, that wasn't Alex anymore. Maybe he was schizophrenic? Maybe he was drugged? Or drunk? Or forced to do it? Maybe it was a set up? Maybe it was Joe getting me back for those fucking boxes? Maybe I should stop trying to prove him innocent. Maybe I should stop reasoning with the truth and just accept that there was no Alex, it was all just a kidnap.

I looked down at the bed I was sat on. He'd given me a bed, I wasn't even chained to it - of course the door would be locked and he'd only hear me trying it and get angry. Maybe I should try to escape? 

No windows.

Alex was clever; of course there were no windows, not even a crack in the wall - nada, nothing. He had this place securer than Alcatraz. I'd like to say that was an overstatement, but it really wasn't.

Then the door flung open, revealing Alex- No, him. He was holding a knife in one hand and had the most psychotic smile painted across his face. I was shaking instantly and inched back against the headboard.

He laughed, no it was more like a cackle, a witchy cackle, a shriek that pierced my eardrums, "I'm not going to hurt you." He placed the knife down on the table beside the door, locking the thing in the process. "It's just here to make things interesting." I raised one eyebrow and he grinned, all the more eager to explain. "You could grab it if you want. No chains, no nothing - there's nothing stopping you." He was right; I could easily grab it. "But, if you grabbed it, what would be my next move then?" He raised his eyebrows at me, "I haven't got all day, Jacky. Think carefully - what would my next move be?"

"I don't know." The words fell loosely from my lips.

"Well you're in trouble then aren't you, Jacky?" I bitterly nodded, "think carefully."

"Would you try to pull the knife off me?" I asked, unsure, because the guy was mad; how could I possibly predict his next move.

"I'm the one asking the questions here, Jacky." He paused, "if you pulled out a knife and attempted to stab me. I'd jump back, away from the blade, away from its bite. Grab your wrist with my hand go behind you, grab your jaw with my other hand and pull it left. Bring you to the ground. Put my knee on your head. Break your thumb, twist your arm, snap your wrist, crush every fucking bone in your fucking body. And then, Jacky; then things start to get interesting."

To say I was scared would be a stupid understatement; I was shivering, quaking, my heart pounding out of my chest.

"Shall we practice?" I remained silent, praying he was joking. "Shall we, Jacky?" He wasn't joking, was he? "Do you want to grab the knife, or shall I? Shall I grab the knife and see if you can, see if you have the nerve to break this pretty little face. Would that be more to your liking, Jacky? The odds are in your favour; I'm giving you the choice here." I panicked. "Now what's it to be?"

My first reaction would be to take the knife, but hearing just how he could recite exactly how to disarm and kill me, I wasn't so keen. Maybe he should take the knife - no, that was stupid, don't give the serial killer the knife. There was no win in this situation.

"Neither of us should take the knife."

"Awh, Jacky!" He moaned like a toddler. "Do you want to play a different game?" I nodded briskly, not caring what else he could possibly come up with. "But this one's so much fun!"

"I want to play a different game."

"No, Jacky." He winked at me, "believe me, you don't. Different games are for different days and this is hardly a game, Jacky - this is a warm up." This is a warm up. This is a warm up- at least that means he doesn't intend to kill me, but really I don't know which is worse. "Now then Jacky, do you want to take the knife, or shall I?"

"I'll take the knife."

He snorted. "That's interesting. People don't usually go for that option, but then again, you're not people, you're Jack Barakat. You're special." I hated it, I hated the sweet talk, buttering me up before he committed a murder - what the fuck. People; other people, other people had played this game before.

"Before we start," he nodded. "Answer me one question."

"Depends on the question."

"I'm taking a knife that you've just explained to me in detail will easily get me killed, I deserve one question." He shrugged.

"It's debatable."

"The other people, who played this game and took the other option, did they win?"

"No."

I grabbed the shaft of the knife in my hand. Hello death, old friend.

He lunged at me before I could even think. How as he grabbed me, one thought flashed across my mind - he was going for the wrists. I'd heard his plan, I knew what to do. I took a swing at his right arm and he coiled it back, grinning manically as he writhed in the pain.

Next he was going behind me, going for the jaw. I spun, keeping him in my eyeline at all times and knocking him back as he reached out. His grin only widened. He soon got bored and pushed me to the ground- shit. I clutched the blade tightly, ready to keep it on arm at all times. I rolled onto my front, pushing him off me as he went to secure me down and I clung to him, pulling myself up and taking a slash at him with the knife. It was a good slash, in perfect aim, but he dodged it perfectly of course.

Was I supposed to fight back? Yes, getting the knife was winning the game, so I just had to push him down, I guess. Maybe even kill him? As weird as it sounds, I daren't kill him. I'm not a murderer, he is. I couldn't kill him, maybe I'd just knock him out and surely he'd have the key on him somewhere, then I'd escape and he'd be alright- but he knows where I live and he knows where to find me and stealing me away would surely be so much easier if he did it for a second time. Maybe I'd have to kill him, after all.

I pushed him back against the floor and pointed the knife down, putting my knee against him and pushing. "Do I fucking win now?" I snapped. "Is this over? Or should I just kill you?"

"Yes, I do believe you've won and as much as I hate to lose, I'm glad somebody finally gets it, understands how to play the game, someone picked the weapon, someone chose the route that was handed to them. Jacky, I think you and I are rather alike, you know." He paused. "And go ahead, kill me. What's stopping you? But really, do you think an act like that will go unpunished. My deeds don't die with me, Jacky. I have a lot of allies. More than you'd think."

I tossed the knife to the side and he got up, grinning at me. "Well done, Jacky. You won and that's because you and me," he gestured between us, "are rather alike. And that, Jacky, is why you won't die today. Tomorrow, I can't say. Maybe you'll just have to impress me.

Maybe I'll be the jester to a psychopathic king.