Tiny Crown

Chapter 4

The silver car sped around the corner.

Hitting the ground with a thud, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut. The blurry world around her made her want to throw up. Her stomach was twisting and her head was pounding.

The car didn't stop.

Emilia's arm was lifted by someone with cold hands. They pressed their fingers to her wrist. There was a pulse. Emilia groaned and her arm hit the ground.
“Ow,” she muttered as she opened her eyes.
“Does it hurt anywhere?” asked whoever had picked up her wrist. Emilia looked to her left to look at the curly-haired man.
“My ribs,” she whispered, her throat was dry. “Just my ribs, I think.”

“Can you sit up?” he asked. Emilia put her hands on the road and tried to push herself up into a sitting position. He went to help her but was swatted away.
“Get away from me,” she hissed as she managed to sit up. “I don’t know you. Did you hit me?”
“No. I’m just trying to help,” he said in an exasperated tone.
“I don’t need your help.” She glared at the tall stranger as she tried to stand up. She failed and the man held his hand out for her. Reluctantly, Emilia took the man’s hand and managed to stand up.

Looking around, she could see the tall snow-capped mountains beyond the forests either side of the road. She felt like she should know where she was but there was nothing. She had no idea where she was. A phone was on the path, it’s screen smashed with part of the glass missing.

For a few seconds, she stood steadily on her feet but began to fall. A hand kept her from colliding with the grey road again.

The man looked at the road where the car had disappeared and he closed his eyes tightly. He muttered something before turning to Emilia. He picked her up and he felt her hit his back.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked as she was lifted into the air. “Put me down! Just call a fucking ambulance!” She didn’t know him, he wasn’t a familiar face. She couldn’t think of any familiar faces.

“Shush,” he said. “Someone will hear you.”
“What do you think I'm trying to do?” Emilia hissed as she struggled. “Let me go!”
“I can't let you go,” he said as he carried her over his shoulder. The road had disappeared but the ground was just a blur as she looked through the strands of her brown hair.
“Why? This… It-it’s wrong! It's illegal!”

“Put me down! Put me down! I don't know you!” she yelled as she struggled in his grasp. A branch scraped along her arm and her ribs ached as she tried to get away from the weird man. Emilia screamed and called for help but no one came to her aid.

With a strange amount of care, the man set her down on the grey slabs. Everything seemed kind of fuzzy and she felt light headed from the screaming.
“Be quiet,” he said in a low voice. It didn’t help the nauseous feeling in her stomach at all. “I know you can’t run.” He was probably right about that, her head was beginning to ache and her ribs still hurt. Emilia stayed quiet and watched as he pulled a brass key from his pocket. It was just a key, no keyrings or attachments at all, not even a ring where a keyring might have been attached before. Nothing. He fumbled with it for a few moments before eventually unlocking the door and pushed it open.

“Go inside then,” he said as if it was the obvious thing to do. Emilia stared at him. She wanted to run. Why wasn’t her body cooperating? She wanted to run, she wanted to get away from him.

No.

She needed to run and she needed to get away from him.

But she couldn’t move, she was frozen in place by muscles which screamed for her to just sit down or lie down so they could rest. Emilia felt him grab her wrist and gently push her through the doorway. She yanked her arm from his grip, it wasn’t hard to. He wasn’t using much strength.

Looking around at the house, she noticed something weird. Everything was too clean. She could see her reflection almost perfectly in the granite counter tops. Her face was bleeding a little. There was no stains, no marks, no scratches. Not even any crumbs. It was like the place had been plucked out of a tv commercial.

Behind her was a living room with dark carpet and what looked like leather couches. Even the coffee table in there looked too clean. She couldn’t see any marks from cups or any scratches. There weren’t even any newspapers or magazines on the table, just a candle holder with a tea light in it.

Click.

The door.

“You locked it,” she said. She felt so stupid stating the obvious as she watched him put the key into his pocket.
“Yes, I did,” he said. He gestured for her to follow him and she did, not wanting to be pulled wherever he wanted. “You’re Emilia.”
“How do you know that?” she asked as she leaned against the counter, she still wasn’t too steady on her feet. She didn’t know him, did she? She couldn’t remember him. Did she have a stalker?

She didn’t get a reply and he just opened a cupboard. He pulled out a chocolate and pushed it across the counter to her. Looking at it, Emilia felt pangs of hunger. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten anything.
“It’s not poisoned, I haven’t even opened it,” he said. Slowly, she picked it up. He could be lying. But she was also really hungry and eating it might mean less pain, for now at least.

The tall stranger watched as she eagerly unwrapped the food and bit into the chocolate. It was delicious and she definitely felt less hungry after eating it.
“I’m Evan,” he said as he grabbed the wrapper off the counter and put it in the bin near the door he had locked. “Are you cold?” Not sure how to respond, she just shook her head. “But you’re shaking.” Emilia looked at the hand which was clutching onto the counter for support. It was violently shaking but she wasn’t really cold.
“I’m scared,” she said. Emilia struggled to think of why he didn’t consider that. “I got hit by a car and then locked in your house, of course I’m scared.”
“Oh.”

Oh? Was he crazy? She hoped he wasn’t, she didn’t want to be kidnapped by a crazy person. Then again, all kidnappers kind of had to be crazy, didn’t they?

He stepped towards her and she instinctively stepped back.

“Don’t resist, it’ll make everything worse,” he said quietly as he walked closer to her. He sounded sort of desperate. Overwhelmed, Emilia felt his hand grasp her wrist again and pull her in the direction of the stairs. Head pounding, body aching, she just followed hoping it wasn’t anything sexual.

At the top of the stairs, there was a door on her left. The landing went around the stairs and behind them, probably to more rooms. It stretched out around what seemed to be the end of the room too. Evan gently pushed her towards the open door on the left. There was something off about it but she couldn’t quite place it as she walked in the room.

Clean.

Too clean. Like the kitchen. The cream walls were oddly free of dirt or marks, the cherry wardrobe and drawers (with an alarm clock and a vase of purple lilies on top) were free of major scratches but it looked quite old. Looking away from the wardrobe on her right, she looked at the bed. It had plain sheets of a solid light grey colour. At the end of the bed was a desk, also - unsurprising at this point - devoid of ink marks or scratches with a chair tucked underneath. As she took in her environment, she found herself walking towards the bed when-

Slam.

Click.

The door.

Spinning one-eighty, Emilia stared at the shut door. Rushing to it, Em frantically pulled on the door handle. It was locked. On the outside. That’s what was odd about the door to the bedroom. Something wasn’t right, he couldn’t have planned it. Yet, he knew her name…

Her palms hit the wooden door one after the other after the other after the other. It was hurting her ribs and her head but she carried on anyway.
“Let me out!” she screamed, feeling panic and realisation set in.
“I can’t,” she heard Evan say quietly. “Just… please don’t try anything.”