Kidnapped Love

Chapter 23

Chapter 23:

Day 1:

Chaos whirls within me, a relentless storm of betrayal and deceit that Derek has sown. Time crawls by, marked only by the pulsing ache in my head and the stiffness in my limbs from the unforgiving floor. No sliver of daylight offers hope or a sense of time; these walls know nothing of morning's light or evening's gloom. I'm lost in an endless night, abandoned to the mercy of when they decide I've been punished enough.

"Mom," I whisper to no one, "Ron." But deep down, dread tells me they won't come soon. Mom's life is swallowed by her job, her presence at home as fleeting as a shadow at dusk. Ron, always so wrapped up in his own world, wouldn't notice my absence until it's far too late. This cell could be my world for months, mirroring the fate of the women around me—invisible, forgotten, forsaken.

Nicole Myers' name surges to the forefront of my mind, a beacon in the dark. She must be here, somewhere among these invisible souls—if those men got their hands on her too.

With resolve, I inch toward the bars, my heels dragging against concrete like dead weight. The chill seeps through the thin fabric of my dress, clawing at my skin with icy fingers. My eyes search the expanse of this makeshift prison, landing on the door through which my world had narrowed to these four suffocating walls. Pressing my face between the cold metal, I squint, straining for a glimpse of any neighboring cells, but there's only darkness—a void where hope dare not tread.

I remember the man's warning, the threat woven into his words: speak, and punishment follows. My breath hitches at the thought, yet defiance simmers beneath the fear. The silence around me is heavy, oppressive, a blanket smothering any flicker of rebellion or camaraderie. For a heartbeat, I consider calling out, but caution clamps down on my tongue.

One final glance I cast across the room, desperate for some hint of life or movement. Nothing stirs. We're all ghosts here, bound by unseen chains and unspoken rules. The shadows hold their secrets well, leaving me alone with the echoes of my own fractured thoughts.

My breath comes out in a hushed whisper, a name that carries the weight of both hope and despair. "Nicole." The syllable hangs in the stagnant air, trembling with vulnerability. I press my ear to the chill metal, searching for an answer in the abyss of silence. But there is nothing, only the faintest shuffle of movement somewhere beyond my sight. A sliver of solace, perhaps; I am not entirely alone.

"Nicole," I breathe again, softer this time, as if afraid to shatter the fragile stillness. "If you are there, I just want you to know that Trish hasn't given up on you yet." The words are a lifeline I cast into the dark, hoping they find her ears, hoping they tether her to something other than this cold dread.

A solitary tear betrays me, trailing down my cheek in silent accusation. It speaks of fear, of abandonment, and the unspoken plea that Trish, wherever she may be, holds onto the thread of our friendship, refuses to let me fade into a memory.

Silence answers back. No echo of hope, no whispered alliance. Just the oppressive quiet that feeds the growing fire within me. My spine presses against the unyielding wall, each second stretching longer, becoming a testament to this new reality—captivity without end, without mercy.

The sadness that once clung to thoughts of Derek now peels away, replaced by a burning fury. How dare he reduce us to this—strong women caged like animals, our spirits sapped by the darkness that engulfs us. Rage coils in my belly, fierce and unrelenting. We may be demoralized, but we are not broken.

I push myself off the ground, determination steadying my shaky legs. "We can't let this place take everything from us," I whisper fiercely into the void. Even if my voice trembles, even if it's swallowed by the cell walls, I have to try. For Nicole. For all those unseen faces around me, stripped of their dignity, their will to fight smothered in the gloom.