Every now and then, there is a silver lining in the darkness.
Brit boy came by a while after the woman left just to say farewell. I'm leaving you in more than capable hands, he'd said to me. But the five words he'd said after that had been haunting me for who knows how long:
Do
try
not
to
die.
The optimistic -albeit dark - side of me said he meant starvation. But then I kept glancing at the damn table across the room in front of me with 'her favorite knife' and I thought otherwise.
What could they possibly gain from killing me? I assumed I was some kind of leverage in their plan, whatever the hell it was. If you kill your leverage, you fail. Right?
I had begun to sweat a little while ago, and I cursed my body for behaving normally. There wasn't any ventilation in this basement, it was only a matter of time. Plus, the fluorescent, dim as it was, shining on me constantly didn't help matters any.
A bulky, bald headed man with really fucked up teeth descended the steps later on. I immediately was disgusted by him. He wore the same outfit as the woman, but it looked ridiculous, the leather pants looked like they were about to split at any moment.
This one had a thick Australian accent. He reminded me of a reject actor trying to play a grimy pirate or something. Definitely no Johnny Depp.
"You're a pretty thing, aintcha?" He spoke with his face inches away from mine. His breath made me want to vomit.
I didn't honor him with a response.
He slapped me, although not very hard. "Hey bitch, I'm talking to you!"
I tried to only breath through my mouth, so as to not smell his vile breath.
He grunted and began pacing the room. "Y'know, not so often we get such good looking captives. We're gonna have fun, you and I. What do you say?"
This fuckbag was not very good at establishing rapport near as well as the other woman. Well, not like she tried to be positive, but she at least wasn't this gross.
"I say you're not really my type." I replied, bravely. I'm not even sure what drove me to say it, it just kind of came out, like I forgot I was bound and tied to a chair and utterly defenseless. I could hardly back up my words.
"Hah! Cheeky little whore. That's good, that's real good. I like a feisty woman..." He walked to the table and retrieved the knife.
My heart started pounding, and I immediately regretted my sarcastic remark. Why do you have to be such an idiot, Selena?
He turned around and began tossing the knife to each of his hands, back and forth. "This is a real nice blade, don't you think? That other chick knows her shit."
"Y-yeah. She does."
"Oh, not talking so big now? Whatsa matter?" He quickened his step towards me and held the blade in front of my face. "Not afraid of this, are ya?"
I couldn't take my eyes off of it. It was expertly kept I could tell. I could see my reflection in it.
I tried to shake my head, but it didn't happen. Fuck yes I was afraid of it.
He brought the flat of the blade under my chin and lifted it up. Then he lowered it down my neck and to the top of my shirt. He turned the blade on it's side.
