Hi, here I am with the revised and edited version of this story. This story is at this point (February 15, 2013) near complete at 217 502 words. It's split into several parts of what I've come to call the Within Chronicles. I will try to update once per week, since I obviously have so much material to work with. Please leave feedback if you like it. Cheerio!

The first thing I heard was the sound of dripping water. For a moment I thought I was in my bathroom, and that the dripping was that damn sink that just would not stay fixed. When I moved in I noticed the leak, and angrily I tried to get someone to fix it for me. Three plumbers and an ex-boyfriend later I gave up; it'd just have to drip for the rest of my stay in that place (but with a towel placed in the sink it didn't really bother me much anymore). A moment later, however, I realized that there was a draught in this place that made it impossible for me to be safe at home. My apartment wasn't exactly the Ritz, but it was nice enough and it definitely didn't have a smell to it. And my head felt heavy. My slender hand came up to rub the side of my face as I filled my nostrils with the scent again. Dark. That's what it smelled like. Dark. Like the basement in my mother's old house. I rolled to my side and felt uncomfortable, although the daze in my mind stopped me from realizing why.

"Hello?" I whispered hoarsely. It felt weird to talk; I realized how dry my mouth was and the feeling of my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth made me shiver. My eyes fluttered open while I slowly filled my mouth with saliva again, running my tongue on the outside of my teeth carefully. I wanted to look around, that was my first instinct, to see where I was. Had I been in an accident? Was that why I wasn't at home? But hospitals had a very distinct smell and this wasn't it. I blinked, realizing that the room was dark. My head was thumping, an aching pain shooting from just above my right eye all the way to the back of my head. I cursed and made an effort to sit up, struggling for a long moment until I was finally upright, and there was a scraping sound as my soft palms touched the harsh ground. Wait. A gasp fell from my again moist lips as I ran my hands slowly across the surface, my fingers gracing the stone with ease. I knew where I was, somehow, but the knowledge was locked in the back of my mind by the pain and heaviness of my head. It was hard to concentrate and part of me wanted to lie back down. I blinked again, wishing I could see the room around me, but even though my eyes had gotten used to the darkness there wasn't much to see. Something big to my right, what could possibly be a door across the room and high above me was a dirty window.

I was in a basement. That was the information my mind hadn't earlier been able to handle. A basement. Not my basement, because I didn't have one, but a basement.

As soon as that realization hit me a wave of panic flooded my brain. I'd been taken. Or kidnapped. Something. I hadn't given my permission to be taken to wherever I was, so someone must have escorted me there without my consent. Fear had my mind pounding even worse, and suddenly it felt like I couldn't breathe, as if my lungs didn't want to grant me air. It was too surreal. Things like this didn't happen. People didn't just get kidnapped! My brain tried to grasp at the concept, to make sense of it, to question and challenge it, to prove it wrong. But it was impossible, there was no other explanation. I had been kidnapped. My lips trembled and I felt like vomiting, I leaned forward, until my forehead made contact with the concrete floor, and I sobbed angrily, still not yet completely in agreement with my brain of what had happened. There was still a silent wish deep in my heart that this was a mistake, that I'd just gotten lost, or been injured, or… but there was nothing. I leaned back up, and this time found a wall behind me to rest against. I pushed my hazel hair away from my eyes and tried to force away the intense fear that had gripped my heart. I had to accept what had happened; I had to, in order to move forward. To what? To finding out why I was there. Someone had taken me from my home and brought me to this place. But why?

"Can anyone hear me?!" My voice cracked when I tried to scream out, and nothing but a deafening silence echoed after my outburst. The dripping sound was gnawing at my sanity and I wanted it to leave me the hell alone. Another sob fell from my lips as I pushed against the wall to stand up, but my legs didn't carry me. My mind was swirling and suddenly even the faded room in front of me disappeared and made way for complete darkness. I closed my eyes to calm myself. There was no point in freaking out, of losing my senses.

My hands wandered, checking for injuries, for… traces of having been violated in more ways than one, and my heart hammered against my ribcage, making me feel like any minute they would snap like twigs. My hair was tousled, my sleek cheeks and pointy nose unharmed, and though my neck was sore I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. It was then that I realized I was wearing the tank top and thin leggings that I always slept in, and in another fit of panic I felt my ribs, my stomach, my hip bones, and my hands traveled south… nothing. My clothes weren't fit for anything but sleeping, but they were intact and in place. With a wave of relief washing over me I couldn't hold the tears back. At least I hadn't been raped.

I lost my mind for a short moment but then I composed myself again, wiping the trail of tears away with the back of my hands. I needed to know where I was and why I was there. Did somebody want money? But that didn't make sense, I didn't have any. And my family didn't either, and we weren't close. There was nothing that anyone could give to get me back. Nothing anyone would give to get me back. What was it then? I wasn't extraordinarily beautiful, I didn't stand out in a crowd, and I wasn't a young teenager but a mature woman. I couldn't understand. My eyes fell shut yet again and I tried to think back on the last thing I remembered, on the last moment before I'd been stolen from the safety of my home.

But it was completely blank. I could remember my whole life in great detail, but the past 24 hours weren't there, no matter how hard I tried. I pressed my eyes shut so tightly I could see stars, and I forced the image of my apartment into my head, and I knew I'd come home from work, I knew I'd sat surfing on my laptop for a while, and I knew I'd gone to take a shower. I knew it, but I couldn't remember it. I just knew it because that was my routine.

"Fuck," I mumbled and climbed to my knees, getting ready to stand up. Maybe I should try the door, or maybe I could find something, if I at least looked. As soon as I pushed with my left hand from the wall and tried to straighten my knees I fell back down, with bright colors dancing in front of my eyes as my head thumped even worse. My right hand clamped over my mouth as I dry heaved, a wave of nausea suddenly crashing down on me. I had been drugged. Another realization. I must have been. At least I assumed as much. How else could I have lost the past day of my life, and how else could I have been taken somewhere without even putting up a fight?

Suddenly I was distracted from my thoughts by a noise which caught my attention and I backed deeper into the corner I was huddling in. I refused to keep my back open, and if I was going to die I was going to put up as much of a struggle as I could. No one would take out Caitlin Rose without her at least doing some damage. I told myself this at least, though in reality my entire body was trembling and I prayed that whatever I was hearing wasn't someone who was intending to do me any harm. I was still dizzy and disorientated and I wasn't sure I'd even manage to do more than fall into a heap on the floor. What threat that'd be, I thought grimly as tears stung my eyes.

Keys jingled and a sound which made me think of the security chain in my apartment made my breath quicken. This could be it. This could be the moment I died, and the thought was so irrational I almost wanted to laugh. I was Caitlin Rose, a boring wallflower with barely any friends, an unexciting job and no romantic life to speak of. I should have been at home, alone in my apartment and not crouching in a corner like a terrified stray dog. A blinding light suddenly hit me and made me hiss in surprise, my corneas burning.

"Glad to see you're awake."

I didn't respond to the male voice, I was too busy rubbing my eyes, as fast as I could, because I didn't want to die blind, without seeing my murderer. There was a ruffling next to me, too close for comfort and I opened my eyes ignoring the stinging.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

My eyes were tearing up, and yet I managed to see the outline of a man. With the bright light coming in from the doorway behind him he almost looked like an angel, but of course I knew better. Finally my eyes stopped burning and I saw my captor. He was just a man. He looked like he was in his fifties, the white hair on his head being a dead giveaway. He didn't look mean; he had a kindness about his face, but also an indifference that scared me more than anything else. He looked like a man, and not the monster I'd expected. He didn't have fangs or claws, or a gun either, for that matter. I had expected my kidnapper to wear some sort of special outfit (for some ridiculous reason), but he wore a red t-shirt and blue jeans. Nothing special, nothing spectacular. He looked like a normal guy. He looked like someone who could be standing behind me in the grocery store, someone who could knock on my door and ask me if I was the one who had called about my pipes acting up. He looked just like a normal man.

"Why am I here?" I asked once my heart was beating at a fairly steady pace. He had simply walked in and sat on the bed, which I noticed had been that big thing to my right. Did he expect me to sleep on that bed? Was I expected to stay here for a long period of time? I blocked those thoughts away, because I couldn't handle them. It was already too much.

"You'll know soon enough," he said, his voice low and raspy.

Now that my eyes had gotten used to the light, and when he seemed to have settled on the bed, I took a quick look around the room I was imprisoned in. I figured I'd hear the bedsprings squeak if he stood up to kill me, and silently I cursed my way of thinking. I didn't want to have given up already, I couldn't give up already. I wasn't going to let him kill me. I sighed and wrinkled my forehead together, pushing myself even further into the left corner of the room. My original assessment had been right; I was in a basement. There was nothing but a bed, a sink and a toilet in the room. Or the word "cell" was a better one to use to describe the space I was in. Cement floor, stone walls, dirty ceiling. Another wave of tears stung my eyes and I had to swallow to stop myself from sobbing. How could this have happened to me? This just didn't happen. People didn't just get kidnapped and taken to basements by strange men. Men that looked ordinary. It just didn't happen.

"I don't want to be here," I whispered suddenly, low and quiet, but with a pained strain to my usually calm and melodic voice. I was begging without words; pleading. He didn't reply, nor did he move. He just sat on the bed with black frames and white sheets. Even the bed looked normal. I wanted him to look angry. Hateful. But the lines of his face were smooth, almost as if he felt nothing at all.

I closed my eyes, turning my face into the corner, making myself as small as I possibly could. I heard him stand up – the bed squeaked, just like I'd anticipated – and his feet moved across the floor. The door made a tired sound as he opened it again, but then I noticed him hesitate for a second.

"I'd advise you to rest for a while; I'll bring you food in a few hours."

Then he left, the door was shut and bolted, and finally I could allow grief to rip through my body. It came slowly at first, but soon I couldn't hold it in anymore. Despair and terror still racked my body, and I had to let it out. I wrapped my arms around my legs and pulled them to my chest, burying my face in my knees as the first tears fell.

"You just don't get kidnapped," I sobbed into the soft fabric of my blue leggings. "You just don't, it doesn't happen to people."

It had happened to me, and I couldn't understand why.