This is kind of a dark genre that i never really ventured into before, but everything is a HEA towards later on in the story. This is also a dislaimer for FSOG.

Stockholm Syndrome

A condition which causes hostages to develop a psychological alliance with their captors as a survival strategy during captivity.

A psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands.

The first sensation I felt was pain. A dull, throbbing ache between my temples, drumming against my skull. My eyelids were drooping, puffy and heavy, a bit too difficult to open. I sigh against my pillow which smelled unfamiliar, not like me as they usually did and they were too soft. My eyes slowly opened against the glaring light of my windows and turned to face the warm beige of my bedroom ceiling, except it wasn't beige. A clinical, stark white ceiling was now in my line of vision as I realise that I was not in the clothes I wore out last night.

I now wore a black silk nightgown with lace trim near the swell of my breasts. Ignoring the pain of my throbbing head, I hurriedly try to find the clothes I wore last night with no such luck. The room, I noticed, was pretty. Feminine, even. A silver grey wallpaper designed with flowery motifs and plastered behind the upholstered headboard of the white queen sized bed. A small glass chandelier hanged above the tri-mirrored vanity in one corner of the room but there wasn't a chair. Beside it was an enormous floor to ceiling window which replaced one of the four walls. From what I saw, this place was an apartment very high up in the skies of Seattle.

Confusion fills me as I wonder how I even got here and where was Kate? I wrap myself in the duvet covers from the bed to give some extra warmth and coverage to face the owner of this apartment. Two deep breaths in and I slowly turned the door knob, only to find it halt mid-way as if locked. I try again and a third time but nothing gives way. My breathing gets panicked as I continue to jiggle the doorknob and push against it with my small frame and slam my palm against the white wood of the door repeatedly.

I stopped and look around the room, the noticeable sound of my laboured breaths in the air mixing with my heart pounding in my ears. A small red light catches my eye and it's attached to a small black security camera wired to the ceiling on the opposite wall of the vanity, next to the bed.

Anger fills my voice as I shout towards the offending object, "Let me out! Who are you!? Let me go!"

I continue to shout and shriek until my throat is raw and sore. My voice is the only I hear for hours as it echoes back at me through the empty room and nothing happens. The apartment was too far up the building that there were no apartments parallel to this one. I was held prisoner in a glass tower, high in the sky and I didn't know who my captor was.

The adrenaline wears down and I start to tear up, tears begin to spill over and I begin to wail. I collapse in a heap on the floor, buried in the duvet covers. Another couple of hours pass this way until I hear keys being inserted in the door. I sit up quickly, covering myself again with the duvet to hide as much skin as possible.

A man enters the room with a ski mask covering his face apart from his eyes and mouth. He carried with him a glass of water in his left hand and a plateful of food in his right which he sets down on one of the bedside tables. He's tall and broad shouldered, wearing a simple grey turtleneck sweater and dark jeans.

I struggle to clear my throat, "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

He continues to stand in front of me, observing, saying nothing.

"Please," I whisper, "I think you have the wrong person."

Nothing comes out his mouth and I stand up, attempting to square up to him, make him see I'm not worth the trouble.

"People will notice that I'm gone. They'll come looking for me, I have a roommate that I was with last night. She'll notice." My voice gaining in strength and filling with conviction. "They'll find you."

I study his face and notice he's looking at me in bewilderment, like I'm a new species that's just emerged after a billion years of being hidden. His lips move as if to say something but they falter at the last moment and he looks annoyed by his inability to speak.

Something in my fear triggers the rush behind my ears and I throw the duvet I was using to shield myself, onto his unsuspecting form and I quickly make a run towards the door of the room. I make it past a hallway lined with other doors and reach a clearing on top of some stairs but before I could take the first step, an arm reaching around my midsection roughly pulls me back. I scream and shriek while he drags me back in by inch and I begin kicking my legs and reaching behind me to claw at their figure, I successfully head-butt him and stomp on his feet in order for my release.

He groans and clutches his head and kneels down on one foot but I don't look back as I make my way down the stairs, across a foyer and towards elevator doors. I rapidly press the button and the service comes just as quickly but to my despair, as I press the button for the ground floor, it stays still. I feel him before I see him. The elevator doors stay open as he stalks towards me, I cower at the corner of the elevator, grasping the railing that goes around its perimeter with my shaking hands.

He's a metre away and both of our breathing is harsh in my ears, he reaches for my arms and with no visible way of escape, I let them hang limply at my sides. He grasps both in one hand and reaches in his back pocket, he produces a cable tie and ties my hands together but he takes another one and links my makeshift cuffs to one of his wrists, making an effective chain. He drags me back into the apartment, my feet creating resistance with the marble floor and the elevator doors close behind us.

"Why are you doing this?" My voice wavers, "I want to go home, please."

He continues to drag me back to the room I was held, and I look around the extravagant apartment. Marble floors and sterile glass and metal furniture. It's all whites, blacks and greys with no other colour filling the vast space. Another line of floor to ceiling windows replace traditional walls and gives view to the magnificent Seattle skyline. It's nearly dark now, I notice.

I keep tugging on our restraints and stumble over the first step of the stairs. I land on my knees with both my hands suspended in the air because of its connection to my captor's arm. I look up at him and his lips are parted, breathing heavily and his eyes turn dark, hungry. Nevertheless, he pulls my up to my feet and carries on leading me back to the silver room.

"I don't want to go back in there." I state, "It's cold."

He turns back to look at me with his grey eyes, almost sceptically, almost amused. As if, out of all the thing's I could've said, that I don't belong here, I don't want to be a captive, I don't want to be held there against my will, I choose that I am cold. I did not see any other forms of exit other than the elevator but a building this tall must have a fire exit of some sort.

"I want to go home."

My words fall on deaf ears as he leads me into the room anyway and locks the door behind him. My fear spikes through the roof and I begin to shake as he pulls of a Swiss knife. I begin to pull away from him to create some form of distance, my thin nightgown already giving me goosebumps due to the cold and tears begin to well up in my eyes. He pulls the knife closer to my form until my knees hit the edge of the bed and I'm sitting.

He pushes the knife onto the restraints and frees him and myself from the loop, all the while looking into my eyes. He suddenly jerks his chin to the now cold plate of food and glass of water he initially brought into the room, his lips twitching again in the same manner as before but nothing comes out.

Without another sound or gesture, he makes his way towards the door, inevitably leaving me here by myself again. I make another feeble attempt in the hopes he'll turn around.

"Please, let me go."

He turns to face me as he closes the door before it fully shuts, he utters a single word that brings the tears back to my eyes and bile rise to my throat.

"No."

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