His Prize

Chapter 6: Finding a Weapon

My fear grows as I stare at the door. I don't want to go out there. I don't want to face him again, to face this nightmare again. I want to stay in here where I'm safe. Even if it's only temporary, right now I'm away from him. I'm protected by this door.

I picture all the things which could happen, all the things which he could do to me. I'd be powerless to stop him. The confidence I woke up with has withered away.

"Hurry up!" I flinch at his angry shout.

I have to open it. I have no choice. I step forward and turn the nob, gently pushing the door open.

Alex is staring at me. I gulp as I spot the pair of handcuffs in his hand.

He steps forward to grab me, and I instinctively step back. I have to stop myself from stepping back any further. There's no escape from the bathroom. It'll just anger him.

He grabs my arm and pulls me to the couch. He attaches one cuff to my wrist, and the other to a loop in the coffee table.

I look at the cuffs in defeat. My few moments of been chainless didn't last long. I'm going to be chained up twenty-four seven from now on, for the rest of my life. A new wave of sadness washes over me at the thought, but I quickly push it away. I'm still breathing which means I can escape. I can get away from all this. I cannot let myself lose hope now.

He leaves the room.

My eyes wonder around. Something about this place looks off. Everything looks perfect. Nothing is lying around. There is no clutter, or dust. It looks like a fake home.

He returns carrying a toolbox and a powered drill. My heart drops. I jump off the couch and move away from him, trying to use the coffee table I'm cuffed to as a barrier. The thought of him using tools on me has my eyes wide and stomach turning.

"What's got you so on edge?" he asks, almost chuckling to himself.

My eyes dart between his face and the drill.

He soon figures it out. "Oh, don't worry yourself, human. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just doing some housework."

I'm relieved, but I stay where I am, still unsure of his intensions. He's been nothing but malevolent so far.

He marks a spot on the bathroom wall with a pencil, and the last of my suspicions disappear. He drills into the wall, then grabs a spanner and starts tightening something to it.

He comes over to the couch, pushes it aside, and repeats the process on the floor. Marking positions, drilling holes, and adding bolts to hold down another piece of metal. He cuts a small piece of the bathroom door off near the bottom.

I silently watch him, fascinated. He never hesitates and is confident in every action. He must do a lot of handy-man work... when he isn't out murdering humans.

He heads back through the kitchen door, taking his tools with him. It must lead to the garage. I make a mental note as that might be useful during an escape.

He returns with a long chain in hand. He padlocks either side of it to each bolted piece of metal. The chain leads from the end of the bathroom to under the couch.

To my dismay, his eyes land on me, and he approaches. It's an unwelcome change as he has been ignoring me up till now.

He takes out the handcuff key and transfers the cuff from the table to the long chain.

"Go see if you can touch the toilet and stand in the shower with the door closed."

I do as instructed. The cuff slides along the chain as I walk. This was all part of his plan to keep me chained up. I can move between the couch and the bathroom freely, but not much further. While this is a little better than been stuck to the coffee table, I'm still not a fan.