The Window to the Soul

Chapter 5: Rude Awakening

I woke up from the darkness. Shifting my weight so I could see, I sat up. As my vision became clearer, i realized I wasn't home, or at the football field. What had happened last night? I couldn't remember anything. I was on a couch, in front of a grand fireplace. The embers swirled around the logs, its stone architecture standing majestically. There appeared to be a kitchen to my left, with very rustic decorations. Small herbs lined the bar, followed by a couple coffee cups. To my right, which i assumed was the living room, was more furniture. A large oak cofee table, followed by some leather chairs and a silver side table resided in its place. Above the fireplace's mantle hung a large painted steer skull, its hollow eyes staring at me. The room itself was rather large, and gave off a cowboy-country vibe. I almost felt at home, besides the fact that i was kidnapped. Glancing down at my clothing, I realized i wasn't wearing the jeans that they attacked me in. Instead, I was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and an old men's shirt. Holy crap. Did they dress me? I blushed a little, angry that they would expose my privacy like that. Who the f dressed me?!

"That would be me," Gabriel said, leaning against the door frame.

I didn't even know what to say. Instead, I laid back down and buried my face in the soft fur blanket that they had obviously put there. I let out a long, irritated groan. Boys- kidnap you, and then make you feel at home. Oh, and then strip you down and dress you while you're unconscious. Great. I heard Gabriel's footsteps leave the room, undoubtedly to notify the others that I had woken up. I wasn't going to be here when the decided to visit. I pushed off the thick fur blanket and shot up and off the couch, searching for a front door. I came about halfway down the hallway when i noticed a large bulletin board. On it were pictures, tacked in different places, most of them with red X's through them. Black yarn connected all of the pictures to one. I looked upward and saw my own face staring back at me. My parents faces were below mine, and neither were crossed out. The eerie feeling came over me again, and I didn't have time to question its existence. I continued down the hallway, opening a large medieval style door. It creaked open, revealing a rural landscape. I took a step outside, my bare feet pressing against the cobble stones warmed by the evening sun. I did a 360, scanning my surroundings. Besides the house in back of me, there was only one other structure. Mountains and a small stream lined the property, relaxing me. The smell of fresh hay and manure wafted my way. Horses. Well, at least I have some friends here. I obviously couldn't be in a city- there were no other buildings for what looked like miles. Where was I? I walked up to a black and white paint, and it nickered, trotting over to greet me. I smiled. Despite my situation, it was amazing that such a creature could still bring me peace. I rubbed its head and walked around to the other stalls. There was 5 horses  total, and a cow, from what I could see. Chickens ran rampant around my legs, cooing and pecking seeds from the dirt. A calico barn cat rubbed against my legs, purring. An old Austrailian Sheperd dog wagged his tail at me, and I bent down to scratch his head. I sighed. I wish i could go back to this life. The sights, sounds and smells- It felt like home. Except it wasn't. I continued on my journey, the fat cat and old dog following me. Besides the paint, there was an Appaloosa, a black mustang, a Belgian Draft, and 1 other. The last one whinnied at me, beckoning me to come closer. I obliged, walking up to his stall. The buckskin quarter horse tossed his head.

"Cap'n?" I gasped.

The horse nickered in response. I tossed his mane over, and almost broke down in tears. The same white spot was there-the same exact one from 10 years ago. Cap'n had been born on our farm, and was  25 years old when we retired him from barrel racing. I hadn't seem him since. I couldn't seem to understand why he looked like he was 5. He was muscular, his powerful hindquarters supporting his short back and rounded butt. Damn, he was one good-looking gelding. I laughed. Zoella, you think horses are more attractive than guys. What a shock. I turned my attention to a small tack room across the way.