I am just writing fan-fiction as something fun to do in my spare time. I am making no profit out of this.
Thank you so much for your kind responses and interest in the story. Hope you like this one.
CHAPTER TWO
Since my options are undoubtedly limited right now, I have no choice but to sit back on the bed, focusing on breathing deeply and keeping myself calm while I have a go at yet again thinking this bizarre situation rationally through.
I really wish I had something else to wear other than this stupid, thin dress I wore last night. I find the room both depressing and freezing despite the curtains being open in the room, letting the early morning rays of light in, so I burrow back under the sheets, holding them bunched up tight around my waist as I try to process this once again.
I really have no idea what I have done to deserve this. Why would someone keep me locked in a room like this? I could cry hysterically and scream my lungs out for whoever is doing this to let me out; I could curse at the camera even, swear my guts out. Threaten whoever is watching me behind their screen, and yet, what good will that do?
I can't let myself cry and panic too much right now. I need to keep as level-headed as I possibly am able to. There are more important things to do, like figuring this out. What are their reasons or motivations in keeping me here?
But I always personally felt that I was a good person; I was kind, and never intentionally mean or hurtful to anyone. Kate sometimes called me a pushover due to that, but had I done something recently to make anyone feel compelled to do this to me? Had I gotten on someone's bad side recently? As far as I knew, I hadn't.
Had I pissed someone off last night? Had I met someone while drunk last night, doing something mean to them that would spur them into reacting this way, in locking me in a room like this?
Deciding that I'm overthinking this, I climb off the bed again, this time taking the sheets and dragging them with me towards the window. When I peer outside, I really wish I hadn't bothered. Through the iron bars, I see how far I am up in the air. I think I'm still in Seattle, judging by the high skyscrapers I recognize.
It makes me feel slightly better to know that I haven't been abducted to some strange place I have never been before, but its only a tiny, minuscule comfort. Recognizing I am still in Seattle, it calms me down in an amazing way, but not enough to keep the terror at bay.
I'm in a high building, about highest as some of the other known Seattle skyscrapers. Even growing my hair outrageously long like Rapunzel and throwing it out the window as a makeshift ladder isn't going to save me from the fact that its going to be harder to get out of here, knowing now that I am trapped in such a high building, about a humongous fifteen feet up in the air in the room that I am confined in.
Yeah, thinking about this definitely isn't helping much either...
I wonder what the time is right now. I think I can see tiny cars moving if I look down far enough. It's already morning, I know that much, though its impossible to tell what time it actually is. Whoever has done this to me, they haven't provided me a clock to identify what time it is.
I think about what I would be doing, if I had managed to return back home last night rather than waking here. I would get up, make a cup of tea, then Kate would get up and we would talk and laugh about our night out drinking and partying. Maybe we would even moan about how shitty we were feeling due to our hangovers. Where is she right now? Is she home? Has she even noticed I'm gone and that I disappeared last night? That I hadn't made it home with her?
More importantly, has Kate noticed its fishy that I'm not at the apartment? Has she contacted the police already and notified them that I am away? It's really the only thing I can do right now. Hope to God that she had notified the police, that at least someone is already out there looking for me, noticing I've gone.
Its the only thing I can cling to right now; that burst of hope that Kate and everyone is looking for me, noticing something is drastically wrong.
Just the need alone for Kate to have alerted the police, it makes me ache with such need and desperation. Leaning forward, I press my forehead against the cold glass, inhaling in deeply through my nose as I clench my eyes closed tight. Please, let Kate notice there is something fishy about me not returning to the apartment last night. Please oh please, let her be worried and call the police so that at least someone is out there looking for me!
Because, whoever has done this to me, whoever they are... their intentions clearly can't be for something all that good. Much as I would prefer not to, I can't pretend that there isn't a possibility there that they have me here to rape me or molest me or just do some generally terrible and degrading things to me. For all I know, I could be dead by next week, left skin-and-bone from starvation.
The unexpected sound of footsteps walking sedately towards the door of the room I'm locked in makes me reel back from the window, immediately alert and tense. Unsure of what to do and what is the best way to protect myself, I move back, staring at the door until my back hits the wall furthest from the door. I hear a key being inserted in, then the telling sound of a lock clicking undone.
Okay, here we go. Now its time to meet whichever sick fuck is doing this to me...
It's impossible to keep strong when I don't have the faintest idea of what could happen in the next few seconds, but I try my best. I tighten my grasp on the blankets around my body, my fingers digging into the sheets like claws, as the door finally creaks slowly open.
I consider catching my captor off-guard in making a sudden and unexpected move towards the door, but really, I think the best way about approaching this is figuring out who I am dealing with first.
Shivering, I keep my eyes on nothing else but what awaits me behind that door. When the person finally does step into the room, I size them up, taking inventory of a few important things.
This person is a male, I think, judging by the clothes they are wearing and their body type and build. Tall, at around six feet, and slender yet muscular at the same time, in a black zip-up jacket and black jeans.
I can't see their face or who they are; They have made that downright impossible for me with the black balaclava or stocking thing they have completely concealing their face to me. There are just simply holes in the mouth and around the eyes so that they can see and breathe without trouble.
They just stand completely still obstructing the only way out of the room, mouth parted through the hole, their eyes flickering around the room before they land on me as they breathe heavily.
The eyes- they look familiar to me, somehow. The shape of them and the color of them, an intense gray. I think I've met this person before, yet nothing comes to me; No names or faces remembered. I just recognize those eyes somehow. God, why are they so familiar to me? Their familiarity doesn't make this any less freaky regardless.
Still, I see the wide-eyed caution in his gray eyes as he steps a foot closer towards me. Without really meaning to, I flinch, hitting my shoulder against the wall with a short hiss of pain. That causes him to immediately stop, and slowly, he raises both hands, palms facing upwards, in my direction. It's a sign of coming in peace, that he means me no real harm. How ironic though...
"You don't need to be afraid," he speaks finally in a voice hardly above a whisper. "I would never seriously hurt you, Anastasia."
My heart seems to plummet down below my navel in dread when I hear him say my name. Jesus, he even knows my name. How does he know who I am? His voice sounds familiar to me, even. I know I have heard that voice before, just like I have seen those eyes before. But not for the life of me can I put two and two together right now, joining the dots onto just who this man is.
He's clearly inexperienced, whoever this guy is. He hasn't done this before, in kidnapping someone and locking them away in a room. At least there is no cold dead-eyed look in his eyes like no doubt serial killers have; That's another one small thing to hold onto.
But he says he won't ever seriously hurt me? What bullshit. "That's bullshit," I whisper out furiously before I am able to stop myself. "You say you won't ever harm me, yet... what are you doing right now?" Though I don't want to glance away for a single second out of fear he will attack, I move my eyes around the room for emphasize to make my point before meeting his gaze again. "Then what the hell do you call this? What are you doing to me right now?"
"I'm not doing this because I intend to hurt you. This isn't why I am doing this." It's a hiss through his teeth, like I have somehow insulted him by accusing him of such a thing.
"Then why are you doing this to me? What do you plan to do to me exactly?" I hate how weak my voice sounds, how fragile and scared. It betrays me, and I don't want to give this guy the satisfaction of knowing I'm frightened out of my wits. "How did I even get here? Who are you?"
The man's breathing seems to get even louder and unsteady as his eyes flicker around the room again. "You don't remember?"
"Remember? Remember what, exactly?"
I catch it out of the corner of my eye as he starts moving towards me again with deliberate slowness. I scurry away, moving blindly to the side. I don't want him anywhere near me, not when not knowing what he intends to do to me or why he is doing this to me, no less. He stops still again, watching me. The way he stares so piercingly, even through those eye-holes, its disturbing. He shows his hands to me again, in what I suppose he feels is a placating manner. It has the opposite of its intended effect. Nothing really could calm me down right now, not until I completely understood.
"I went out last night and had a few celebratory drinks and now I'm here. I just remember going to a club last night with my friend, and that's about it. I don't remember how I got here or why I'm here, no less." I suck in a deep breath, holding the sheets to my body even tighter. Keep calm, Steele. Try to get him to talk. "Did you bring me back here yourself?"
He nods once, his eyes still on nothing else but me. "I did, yes. I carried you back here myself."
He carried me back here? But then why can't I remember that? Surely I wasn't that drunk last night. "And then what? You put me to bed?"
"Of course, I did." He shrugs, like its no big deal to him. "You were passed out, Anastasia. What else could I do?"
My head reels. I was passed out? Is that why I am finding it increasingly difficult to remember anything? Because I was passed out? It doesn't make any sort of sense though. Kate was with me. If this guy was there in the club too, wouldn't Kate have preferred to take me home herself and not leave me passed out with some strange guy we didn't know? Wouldn't she want to protect and look after her drunk friend, rather than let this obvious psycho take me home? I would have done that for her, no ifs or buts about it.
"And what did you do to me when you bought me back here and put me into bed while I was passed out?" I demand angrily, though a part of me is petrified by truly knowing what the answer might be to that question. "What? Did you steal a peek up my dress? Cop a feel while you knew I couldn't do anything about it like the... the psycho that you obviously are for doing this to me?"
He could have done literally anything to me, couldn't he have? Raped me and done perverted things while I was knocked out cold.
Oh, god, he could have done all sorts of sick and twisted things to me.
His mouth opens- he is gaping and shocked by my accusations, I think- and he glances away quickly, as if embarrassed.
"Believe it or not, necrophilia isn't really my thing. If I was going to do anything like that with you, I would prefer it to be with you awake and it consensual."
Consensual? Yeah, like that will ever happen...
"Right. And you expect me to believe that?" I mutter, eyeing the open doorway again. He's standing about a meter away from it. I could easily get past him, if I was quick enough. Really, I just want to get out of here already. I just want to be free of this situation completely. "Can I go home?" I ask desperately. "What I really want right now, is to go home."
"This is your home now," I think I hear him mumble. It's very nearly enough to push me over the edge.
"Home? Here? This is not my home, and I have no idea who you are!" I glance at him in disbelief, enraged. I really wish he would take that stupid balaclava off so that I can see his face. "Why are you wearing that stupid thing over your head and are hiding your face from me? Why don't you take it off and show me who you really are already?"
The man pauses for a moment, licking his lips. I can tell he is trying to come up with a good enough excuse. "I just can't. Not yet, Anastasia." Despite my furious shouting at him, he seems patient and calm. "I don't think you are ready for that quite yet."
Not ready? Is he kidding me? "Why wouldn't I be ready? I think you're just mainly too scared to show your face to me because you're nothing more than a coward." I press my lips together, telling myself sternly to shut up. I really shouldn't be antagonizing this guy, especially when realistically whether I die or live comes down to him. I just can't help it.
Making up my mind, I start to cross the room briskly, letting the sheets fall to the floor. There is no time to hesitate or talk any longer. I know what I need, and its to get out of here immediately. He lets me walk straight past him, and just as I reach the entryway, my heart soaring in relief, the tables are quickly turned.
The man's hands come around my upper arms, holding me back. My father Ray taught me when I was a kid all about stranger danger and how to protect yourself. In a situation like this, its really the perfect time to put some of the skills he taught me to use. I can hardly think straight as I struggle against him. I am no match for him physically, and I learn that brutally, when he manages to fling me back inside the room. I stumble, losing my footing momentarily. And then he is on top of me, keeping me flat on my back, pinned beneath him.
I try to hit him and lash out with my arms, even use my fingernails to claw at whatever bit of his skin I can find, but he manages to catch them, seizing them with both my wrists in one hand, wrenching them above my head. Even as I thrash underneath him, sobbing desperately and panting, I realize its no use. It's hopeless. I can't get free and I can't fight him off. He's just far too stronger than me.
"Get off," I snarl, moving my feet out from underneath his legs. I manage to kick him in the shin with the back of my ankle and he makes a loud noise, but it isn't enough to completely throw him off. "Just get the fuck off me! Who are you and what do you want from me?"
"You can't leave me and I can't let you," he breathes roughly, shifting so that the full weight of his body is keeping me still and rigid. When I meet his gray eyes again through the holes, I can see the excitement in them, the slight curl of his lips. This is arousing him; This is a big thrill to him, having me fight, I realize. "I meant what I said. I have no intentions to hurt you, not ever. But I can't let you leave, not until what I bought you here for in the first place is complete."
What he bought me here for in the first place?
Hope this chapter was okay? I know this is probably different and way out of character but I hope you won't mind? I am having such fun writing anyway, and I hope you will enjoy reading it too. Your thoughts are most appreciated, so please do let me know if I'm doing okay.
