Not so wonderful life
Disclaimer: Gillian is held captive with no escape in sight. Who is her tormentor and what does he want from her? Written from Gill's POV. Drama/Angst/Hurt/Comfort. PG-13.
Note: Just a little something I couldn't get out of my head.
You know the drill: this is a no profit venture, the characters belong to the Fox.
Part I
Lonely in my nightmare
It's dark in here, it's always dark in here. He must like it this way. The only illumination is red diodes in the ceiling obscured by a matted glass, submerging most of the room in ambient shadows.
At times, I wonder how long it took him to make this prison inside his house. Days, weeks, months, years? Am I the first one he kidnapped or there have been other poor souls left to his mercy?
The room itself is decorated with taste, as if he made an effort to make it comfortable, even cosy. It has everything - a fully functioning bathroom with a tub and a toilet, the shelves full of beauty products, including a selection of luxurious oils, and well-chosen, captivating literature. There is even a stereo system with a CD collection, mainly jazz and soul.
It's almost like he knows my tastes.
Maybe he went to my house, talked to my family, friends and colleagues. The thought sends disturbing chills down my spine.
The king size bed is decorated with luxurious sheets, silky to the touch and extra soft pillows.
Only pleasant wrapping doesn't change the fact that I'm a prisoner, trapped in this nicely equipped hell with no way out.
There used to be a large window for letting in the daylight, providing a connection with the outside world, but he blocked it with a thick layer of bricks.
On their own accord, my thoughts wander to the place I'm deprived from. I almost feel the soft rays of the sun warming up my skin, the breeze of the wind playing with my hair and the lingering touch of the grass beneath my feet. The overwhelming longing becomes almost unbearable. Unshed tears glister at the corners of my eyes.
The never far question 'why'poisons me like venom, spreading through every cell of my body.
Why is he doing this to me?
Why me?
I wrap my arms around my knees and lean against the wall.
The silence and solitude becoming almost deafening.
Closing my eyes, I pray for someone to come and take me away from this misery.
Despite the odds, I still bear a naïve hope to get out of here. Maybe once he is tired of toying with me, he will set me free. Although, statistically speaking, lethal outcome is more likely.
I can't stay isolated much longer without losing my sanity.
Anybody out there, if you can hear me, please...
As if on cue, all too familiar steps approach. The lock clicks and the doors open.
"Good morning!" my tormentor greets me evenly. Dark, void of any emotions eyes meet mine. His expression never changes. It is always the same rigid, unreadable mask of cold indifference.
He nears me to put a tray with freshly baked food on the bedside table.
"Would you like some tea?" he offers. His tone, matching the expression, is detached, almost lifeless.
"No," I pull myself in the corner just to put some distance between us. He raises his hand as if to touch me, but seeing my flinch jerks away.
"You look exhausted," he observes the dark circles under my eyes, "would you like me to get you something?"
I'm beyond exhausted, but afraid to fall sleep as he might take an advantage of me. Given my weakened state he could easily overpower me even in awake, but for some reason so far has chosen not to.
Nonetheless, he comes to me in sleep. Already several times I have woken finding his arms roaming over my body, uninvited caresses covering my hair, my face, my skin, my lips. It has never gone beyond that, but I feel violated nevertheless.
"I just want to get out of here," quiet plea sounds pathetic, even weak, to my own ears.
"You know I can't let you out," he reprimands, as if talking to a petulant child.
"And why not?" I challenge, finding some of that fire I thought was lost. Every time I bring up the question, he gives me the same blank reply.
He looks oddly disconcerted as he pinches the bridge of his nose and absently chews on his lower lip. For a split second, I dare to hope that for once he will answer. If only I knew why he brought me here, what he wants from me, I could figure a way to escape. But the hesitation is short-lived as the habitual mask of absolute indifference slips back on.
"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" he probes with the same expressionless detachment.
"I don't want anything," I turn away facing the wall, showing with all my being that the conversation is over.
I think he's lonely. He brings me food on regular basis whether I want it or not, tries to engage me in a conversation, ease my stay in his house, but I refuse to participate in this perverse imitation of normalcy.
I hear a soft shuffle as he repositions himself getting better access to my body. My heart fills with dread knowing what is about to come.
"No, please, don't," I beg him. Tears I'm no longer able to hold run freely down my cheeks. I hate to be weak in front of him, but not able to stop myself.
My pleads land on deaf ears as the needle mercifully pierces the skin of my upper arm. Hot tingling sensation spreads throughout my body and I'm mentally preparing for the weakness, nausea and spasms that are about to come.
He releases vice like grip and stands up. Casting last impassive look in my direction he exits the room, his departure followed by all too familiar click of the lock. I'm left behind silently weeping.
I don't know what he keeps injecting, but it affects me tremendously. My resolve becomes weaker, each new day I drift further away from the reality. My thoughts are scattered. It is difficult to concentrate and my memory slowly fades away. My bones and skin are aching.
Every shot drains remaining reserves of the energy. All I can do is lay still and listen as my laboured breathing echoes in my temples.
When the spasms subdue, I feel miserable. A hollow void engulfs me, pulls me towards the edge until I find myself sucked into the nothingness.
That's it, that's what my life has come down to.
I'm desperate and lonely in my nightmare.
tbc