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I hate this place more than anything. I hate him for leaving me here, and I hate myself for wanting him to come and get me. Hate myself for being weak.
Resting my cheek on the top of my knee, I let the tears that have been threatening to fall escape. I refuse to let myself cry in front of him, but here, alone in this windowless cell, I can be the helpless and scared girl for a little while.
There is some hope. At least he left the light on and gave me some clothes. It’s one minor act of kindness, but I’ll take it. I hate the dark so much, I would have given anything for that not to happen. I would’ve dropped to my knees and begged for it.
After a short time, and when I’m sure that he will not come back, I put the clothes he gave me on. It only takes the edge off the coldness in the room, but it’s better than freezing to death. It’s a true prison down here.
With nothing to do, I return to the small bench in the corner.
Hours pass, or maybe it’s just minutes. I have no way of knowing how long I’ve been down here and nothing to pass the time. Only my thoughts are keeping me company, and those are my enemy right now.
When I finally hear the lock disengage and the door creak open, I scramble to my feet. I let out a groan when I realize my legs have fallen asleep. My knees almost give out as the pain of my legs waking up shoots through my muscles.
My limbs tingle as I force them to work and hold up my body weight. I feel like a dog who is excited to see his owner after being away for hours. I should sit back down and pretend to be uninterested in his presence, but my eagerness to get out of this cell is overpowering.
All that excitement vanishes in a blink of an eye when I look up and see his face. The evilness etched into Markus’s dark features makes me take a step back. Like the night sky, he’s impenetrable, beautiful, but deadly. He looks vicious, like a shark that smelt blood in the water, and he’s tracking the prey it belongs to.
Speaking of blood, as I drop my gaze, my eyes catch on his knuckles, which are bloody and swollen. My tongue feels heavy at the sight, and a lump forms in my throat. Fear roots me in place. What happened?
“Move!” He half growls, half hisses.
Darkness clings to his vocal cords. What is happening? When he left, he was angry, yes, but he looked nothing like he does now, like an unhinged beast.
When I don’t immediately move, he grabs my wrist, his fingertips burn into my skin while he pulls me to the door. My feet slap harshly over the concrete. Something tells me I should run the other way, or at least beg to stay in this cell.
I’m not sure what’s going on. All I know is that for the first time since he took me, I’m scared for my life.
Forcing my feet forward, I bite my lip to stop from whimpering. Complaining isn’t going to help me at this point. Nothing is. If he plans to hurt me, which I’m sure he does, then there is nothing I or anyone else can do to stop him. When we reach the kitchen, he stops dead in his tracks. The forward momentum of my body causes me to crash directly into his back.
Whirling around, he curls his lips and stares down at me like I’m the enemy. And in a lot of ways, I guess I am.
“I’m going to give you one chance to answer this question and one chance only. If you lie to me…” He leans into my face, his eyes bleeding into mine. “If you lie, I will know, and I promise you, you’ll regret it.”
I nod because that’s all I can do.
“Is anyone looking for you or waiting for you back home?”
“N- No… I mean. I don’t know. Maybe my parents? I don’t know if they realize I’m missing. I don’t know if anyone knows I’m missing. I’ve been gone for a few days. Maybe they went to the police? Or my roommate, maybe. I don’t know,” I ramble, trying to find the words he wants to hear.
I cannot hide the tremble in my voice, and that makes me feel weak, so incredibly weak. Deep in my gut, I know something bad is going to happen. Danger and fear cling to the air, making it hard for me to breathe.
Does he believe me?
“I want to make it very clear to you what will happen if you try to escape me…if I find out you have a boyfriend.” I don’t get a chance to respond because, in an instant, we’re moving again. He grabs me by the arm, and this time, his hold is like an iron shackle. Cold and unrelenting.
