This is a little different to my other fics. Please tell me how you feel about this as it's the first thing I've been able to write since my terrible writers block. This story will not be in chronological order, so be mindful of the day that will be at the top of every update, and possibly the title of the chapters. THANK YOU. I shall go and write chapters for my other fics now.

Day 29

The light hit Erin's face with a warm bite. The sun always peeked through the bottom of the window in an attempt to wake her up each morning. She let out a simple yawn, a sense of exhaustion set in through her bones. She'd fallen asleep sitting up again, a habit she'd picked up most recently. Her body ached, her heart raced it was like she had been running a marathon rather than sleeping. Her wrists ached like she'd been pulling on them for hours. It wasn't far from the truth.

She couldn't recall how long it had truly been, it had been weeks, she knew that for sure, but how many was still hanging in the air like a bad smell wafting down around her, a suffocation of sorts.

Her heart was soaring, faint memories surfacing as she was struggling to remember what it felt like to wake up beside the man she loved, to be in a room without shackles, to be free in every sense of the word. It was all in the short distant memories.

She could hear him though, she could hear the hum of the radio, the sizzling of the stove top as he burnt the bacon like he did every morning. The smell drifted through her nostrils, and to be frank she was beginning to feel like she wanted to be vegetarian from now on. It was revolting, her stomach tightened, and although it had been a while she could still remember what it was like to eat what she wanted, when she wanted. This wasn't living, this wasn't what she wanted.

The door squeaked when it opened, she scurried across the bed, not wanting to even look at him, the monster who detained her. The man was short and stubbly, he wore thick rimmed glasses and a big black hoodie seemed to always be atop of whatever he was wearing underneath. "Good morning Erin, I've made you your breakfast." He sang, like this was a scene from The Brady Bunch.

She glared, no other emotion seemed fitting in this situation. Hatred seeped through her body like she was being poisoned painfully slowly, not a feeling she would recommend to a single soul on this sinful planet.

He sat down by her feet, the same feet he's shackled to the bed posts on a shorter chain than those attached to her wrists. He smiles, sending shivers up and down her skin. It's not like he was ugly, or creepy if you saw him walking down the street. He wasn't at all, but this wasn't how you picked up girlfriends. This man was sick, and it brought bile up in her stomach, threatening to projectile vomit all over his pretty boy face.

"I need to use the bathroom." She managed to croak, her voice was sore. She'd spent the first few weeks screaming out, hoping to be heard. She knew they weren't in the city, it was too quiet outside. Her windows were mostly bolted shut, apart from the streaks of light that crept through when the sun hit the window panes.

His face softened when she spoke, she'd never asked a question before. She'd never spoken to him without malice or screaming. It was getting through to him; he was playing right into her hand. He reached for the ring of keys he kept in his pocket, reaching for her ankle to unlock the first restraint. He never unshackled her hands, they were always kept together, just simply detached from the bed. He was afraid, she could see that. He didn't want her to leave him, to tell on him.

The walk to the bathroom was slow, she did that on purpose. It was nice feeling her feet again, to be standing upright, she took her time. He'd wait outside the door, there was no way for her to escape since there wasn't a window or another exit. She knew she was trapped, but it didn't stop her from taking her time. She could barely recognise her reflection, it scared her. It scared her half to death. She was merely a ghost of her past self, a mirage if you will.

The flush of the toilet was louder than she'd liked, she knew she'd only have a few moments before he'd be expecting her to open that door again. The feeling of the cold water splashing against her hands, the feeling of soap rubbing over her skin. It was comforting, something she never thought she'd miss. She longed to take a proper shower, but she knew he wouldn't let her, she couldn't wash her hair with handcuffs on, he'd run the water and step aside, giving her privacy but it wasn't private at all. She barely touched herself, she'd stand there and let the water run down her tiny body, closing her eyes to try and pretend she was anywhere but in that stupid bathroom. It was useless.

He would bang on the door, and she'd jump every time. "I'm coming." She croaked, shuffling towards the door, taking one last shaky breath before opening the door by a twist of the handle. This was her nightmare, and this was only the beginning.

Soon he's chaining her up again, feeling like fifty shades of torture. He hadn't laid a hand on her to date, but she knew he was itching to get it on with her soon. She could see it in his eyes, but to him it wasn't wrong, he had this spooky infatuation with her. He thought this was romantic.

"What's your name?" She asked softly, his eyes milking in the attention as he finished the last lock. He smiled and walked over to where she was sitting, sitting down and cupping her face in his creepy hands. "My name is Samuel." He breathed, leaning in until she could feel his breath hitting her face. This was it, this was him making his move. She wanted to be sick, this wasn't love – she knew what love was. Love was home.