Warning: Very dark themes. The M rating is there for a reason.
Chapter 3: THE ART OF FEAR (part one)
The Sun
A boy opens his eyes, feels his head heavy against the concrete floor. He doesn't remember how he got there. All he knows is that his head hurts, there is a throbbing in his skull between his eyes and a sudden urge to vomit makes him grab his mouth.
Where am I?
He smells something akin to bleach, the same one his mother uses to clean the kitchen floor. It is dark but he makes outlines of weird shapes not too far from where he is lying on his side. His limbs are stiff from the cold.
Did I fall down on the way home?
Although disoriented, the boy pushes himself up. He stops midway, his head spinning. After a moment of levelling himself, he looks around the darkness. Like a horror motion picture, the events before blacking out comes back.
Arms.
Bright brown eyes.
Kicking and trashing to no avail.
Slowly, the boy experiences real panic for the first time in his young life. His eyes start darting from corner to corner of the dark room, finally with purpose: find an exit. He pushes himself to stand, and walk to one side, noticing how small the room is. It couldn't have been bigger than his own room. He nearly trips over something, a box of some kind, but he dares not feel the contents.
Eventually he reaches a wall. The boy puts his palms on it, feels the coldness coming from it and knows it is cement. He bangs his hands on it anyway.
"Hey! Is anybody there?!"
He shouts, his voice high pitched and forced.
"This isn't funny!"
He bangs on the wall until his hands tire out. "Heyy!"
The boy then begins walking around the small room, crouching and feeling for any opening in every nook and cranny. He even resorted in jumping, hoping to find an air vent low enough to hang on. The darkness makes it difficult to balance himself and he falls on his back more times than he can count.
Eventually he returns to the same wall and begins shouting curses and banging at it again. After at least an eternity of this, the boy's voice begins to give and waver. He finally stops when his hands start aching and he suspects they will bruise.
He sits down, trying to rationalize with his inner self that it's probably just some prank. It's cold and late so his mother's probably worried about him. She's phone the school, they'll search for him.
He runs this through his head until fatigue finally hits him. The sleep that follows is a restless one.
Day Two
The boy wakes and notices it's bright. He takes a look around, noticing the room he's in with greater detail. The light is bright and artificial, coming from a lamp above him. There is an air vent at one side of the wall, and a door stuck on the ceiling.
The door is stuck on the ceiling.
He makes a complete rotation and sees nothing but four blank walls surrounding him. He looks up at the ceiling again. Even he couldn't jump that high.
He tries to scream but it sounds hoarse. He realizes he's thirsty and hungry. He doesn't know how many hours have passed but it has probably been more than just a few hours.
The boy is ready to cry.
He swallows thickly and rubs his eyes, wishing for his mother, for his friends to come and pick him up. He looks down at his feet and notices the boxes again. They are closed, but not taped. He opens one.
Blankets and pillows in one box. He opens more.
Clothes his size.
An empty book and pencils.
At his fourth box tears begin streaming down his face. He doesn't know why but an overwhelming feeling of fear starts crawling in his chest. With shaking hands he unravels a cleaning supplies.
A bucket.
A toothbrush.
A Hairbrush.
His hands are now shaking so bad he can't keep hold of the items in front of him, so he pushes them aside and crawls to a corner. He doesn't understand what is happening, but he knows it won't end soon.
Day Three
By now the boy is tired, his mouth is dry and his lips are cracked. He has never been this hungry in his life. The bucket provided is left to one side where he has pissed. He doesn't know what else to do.
He has huddled inside the blanket, alleviating some of the coldness but missing all the comfort that should come with it. It is around this time that the boy finally hears a sound coming from the ceiling.
It is the sound of footsteps.
On instinct he clutches the blankets tighter, views the ceiling from just above the corner of the sheets. He can feel himself shaking.
The trapdoor opens, revealing a man.
"Hello." The man smiles, his eyes showing delight. "I'm sorry I'm late but I needed to be very far from here for a while. The police can be quite troublesome you know."
The boy registers the words, his eyes widening. His breath hitches and he doesn't know what to say except,
"Please let me go." It comes out worse than he expects, barely audible and hoarse.
"Hmm?" The man replies, "I can't really hear you, Shouyou." At the mention of his name the boy flinches. "Hold up." The man disappears from his line of view for a while. The boy hears scraping noises and soon a rope ladder falls from the trap door. It hangs short. He sees the man climbing down with a plastic bag in his hand and jumping to the ground.
"Meant to leave this here, but I forgot." He pulls out two small bottles of water and a wrapped sandwich. The boy's eyes grow wide as he pushes the blanket aside. He looks longingly at the scant meal before him but dares not make the first move, opting rather to look at the man before him.
He was lanky and tall, his face thin and mean looking. He gave of a strange aura that makes the boy uncomfortable under his stare. The boy's heartbeat increases. He smiles at the boy, noting his hesitation.
"Come on, I don't bite. Here." He rolls the water to the boy. His reaction is almost immediate. As bottle rolls half way, the boy pushes himself forward, but not towards the bottle. He makes a slight turn to avoid the older man and grabs onto the rope ladder, jumping higher than he's ever jumped before. The man is taken by surprise, self-assured that only he could reach the ladder.
This takes place in mere moments before the man finally reacts.
"Oh no you don't," He says, grabbing one of the boy's legs. The boy lets out a scream of terror, his hands grappling to reach the exit but he feels too weak. His hands are clumsy and his head is light. With one tug from the man below, his hands slip and he tumbles directly into the man's chest.
He screams, "Letmegoletmegoletmego," trashes around before the man grabs a handful of his orange hair and pins him down.
"Shut up." The boy cringes and looks at the man above him. There is nothing but malice in his eyes. The boy freezes. He doesn't know, doesn't know, just wants it to stop, to let him go
"If you try that again, I will seriously hurt you," He scowls, "and we don't want that do we?" The boy shakes his head, his heart beat loud in his ears. "Good." The man lets him go. "Eat your food." The weight shifts, then disappears. The boy sits up, his hands still shaking from fright and adrenaline. He takes the small bottle and drinks from it, then unwraps the sandwich, all the while under the watchful eye of his captor.
"Why-" The boy ventures, "why did you do this to me?" The man smiles coldly, eyeing him from head to toe. This elites a shiver from the boy.
"You'll find out."
A/N: DUN DUN DUN shit finally hits the fan.
I can foresee very dark things coming.
You're thoughts?