Confide in me, Agent Ressler (Blacklist fanfic)

The room

Charlotte's POV

She was shaking, shaking so badly she heard her teeth rattle. The room she was in was freezing, and the bed she was strapped on had no blanket.

And she couldn't warm herself.

The good thing was that the drugs were fully out of her system, her vision cleared so she could finally be able to figure out where the hell she was.

The room was small, and two doors. Bathroom and the door our, she assumed. One tiny window, a port hole. There seemed to be a tiny dresser, and a vanity?
"What the fuck is this place?" She asked aloud. There wasn't anyone in the room.

She desperately wanted to find Donnie and go home.

God, where was her fiancé? Did they hurt him?

Charlotte started to pray that he was alright, because of he's wasn't. Well their captors would know what hell looks like first hand.

Charlotte didn't know how long she had been laying there in the cold, but it felt like very many painful hours.

She started humming the words to Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas.

They calmed her a bit, but not much.

A loud creak noise indicated the door had opened.

She flinched when she saw the man who opened it. He was around her age, but had a wicked scar along his entire face. It covered his left eye. His hair was shaved very close to his head, and he looked like he was a bodybuilder on steroids.

Don't let him get the best of you, what would red do? He would act calm and like this doesn't bother him. God, I'm in trouble if I'm wondering what Reddington would do.

"Glad to see you're up, pretty bird." He had a thick Boston accent.

She hated him the moment he called her pretty bird.

She refused to talk, and willed herself not to shake.

"Oh, such a quiet birdie, well little bird, come on now. Speak"

He pulled out a knife and gently traced a shape on her arm, not enough to draw blood but to scare her.

"Where is my fiancé?" She demanded, she had to know he was alright.

"Don't worry, your boy Scott is fine."

She gave him a hard look, one he smiled at.

"I promise, cross my heart and hope to die. " he crossed his heart, "only injuries boy Scott had was the mild concussion from us getting you two"

"You're an asshole," she muttered. She would kill them. She had never killed before, but she would.

"Now, now that's not very nice." He was still playing with his knife. "And I'm here to do you a favor. You see you're stuck in this room for two more weeks until we get to our destination. Then you meet the big boss. And here I am going to let you out of those restraints so you could clean yourself up."

Before she could ask well anything, he undid her straps.

But he kept the knife on her, "but, you will not move until I leave the room. You hear?" She nodded. "That's a good birdie. If you're good, maybe I will let you see your boy Scott." He pushed them knife slightly down on her shoulder, she bit her lip so she didn't cry.

"That's for calling me an asshole," the Boston man left, locking the door behind him.

Charlotte willed herself up, flinching at the Knick on her shoulder. She ran to the bathroom, and saw a thing of toiletries almost identical to the ones she had at home.

"Well that's fucking weird," she kept looking until she found a first aid kit. She poured the alcohol on her cut, not that bad, and put cream and a bandage on it.

"at least it isn't the frozen or Dora ones."

She was still wearing her dress from the night before. It had Donald blood on it, and a little of hers. She refused to cry. She checked the room for cameras, none.

She then walked back in the bedroom and checked there for cameras.

None there either, she wasn't sure she bought that they left her there without any.
She rummaged through the dresser and found some new jeans and a shirt. Her hot stoped when she found her DC jacket. She grabbed it and instantly it smelled like Donald's cologne. She sprayed it on there after he was gone late for work.

She about cried, she held it close to her.

Going back to the bathroom, she took a shower, they got the same freaking brand of shampoo and conditioner and body wash that's the same she had.

After her shower, she pulled on the cleans clothes and held her jacket to her close.

And then put it on.

Her shoulder still stung, but it was bearable. Could've been worse.

She looked around the room and found things that would keep her from going insane, books for one.

They gave her books? Most of it was romance, and a few were crime. One was horror. Okay they were weird but she was glad to have something.

She also found paper and crayons, no pencils because they could be used as a weapon. They're smart, well sorta.

They were idiots for messing with her and her love. Charlotte was usually a gentle souls. But they drive her over the edge. So with the paper she began to plan things out, her plan didn't look very intimidating because it was written in purple crayon. At home she only used dark purple ink for stuff, so she had to make due with the crayons.

She also wrote a note to Donald, hoping she could somehow give it to him.

And she wrote one other thing, as carefully as she could. As descriptive as could be, and then she stuffed it behind the bed.

For the next few hours she spent looking for ways to escape, the window was too small.

But if she could get the jump on whoever walked in next, maybe she could get out and then she just needed to hide.

But she was exhausted, so today would not be the day.

Two weeks, two weeks to figure a way out.

Two weeks to find Donald, two weeks to survive.

Because, Charlotte was almost positive that if they didn't escape now. Surely they would be dead.