The first thing I saw was a wave of bright light. It came from a lamp hanging from the ceiling. I tried to move, but I realized that my body was tied to a chair with ropes.
I was in a small room. Surrounded by dirty, scratched walls, I experienced claustrophobic feelings. Through the rag wrapped around my mouth I could not utter any sounds louder than moans. The only object to observe was the crooked table standing directly at the front. Realizing that I had no choice but to wait for the events to unfold, I began to count my heartbeats. My heart beats an average of 65 times per minute, so I could use it to measure time. I had no other job anyway.
I began to lose my way after five hundred. Resigned, I decided to count the scratches on the wall in front of me, but this only tired my eyes. So I closed them to give my imagination space. I needed to calm down.
When I mentally started flying the kites, I heard a slight creak and someone's footsteps from behind me. They were rather quick and decisive. I moved my shoulders, feeling a slight chill from behind my back.The stranger stood behind me, his torso touching the back of the chair. I could smell his scent, slightly sweaty, but not unpleasant. He had even, calm breathing. I felt him lean over me, and his hands reached for the makeshift gag.
"If you start screaming, I'll tie it back. Keep quiet." He spoke quietly. I nodded, and he removed the rag.
"Thank you" I mumbled. The possibility of communication lifted my mood. I felt him put two fingers on my neck - they were cool and dry, and their touch made me shiver.
"Are you taking my pulse?"
"Since when are you allowed to talk like that ?"
A hand with a knife appeared from behind my head.
"Is that enough motivation to keep you respectful?"
"I don't think you're going to use it."
"Where did you get that idea?"
"I'm alive. I was kidnapped for ransom, right? I think you're only supposed to intimidate me."
"Ransom? Do you think you're worth anything?"
"A spoiled brat with rich parents. I don't approve of such behavior."
The blade of the knife pressed against my cheek, slowly creating a cut there. Not very deep, but enough to make me hiss in pain.
"I'm supposed to show respect, but what about respect for me?"
"You think you deserve respect?"
"I have a knife, you - just a pleasant body"
"Are you going to make use of it?"
"You're not the one asking the questions. What do you think?"
Irritated, I fell silent.
"I wouldn't want that" I replied after a moment.
"I'm not going to ask for permission" he replied mockingly.
"Well, I can still express my opinion, right?"
I could now taste blood in my mouth. The pain in my cheek wasn't severe, but it was making itself known.
"So what do you want?" I asked.
"Where did you get the idea that I want something?"
"Everything we do has a purpose"
"Will the meaning of your suffering help you?"
"No, probably not. That doesn't change the fact that I'd love to know it"
"Like any rich kid, you think you're entitled to something. Where did you get that idea?"
"Do you have a problem with my parents? Did they do something wrong to you? Is this some kind of revenge?"
"I'm just establishing the facts."
"These aren't facts, just assumptions. Besides, if you're having fun, why can't I?"
"Poor girl, she thinks she's here for fun."
"I don't think so, I'm just asking!"
"Asking? That sounded more like a request."
"Are you going to finally show yourself to me, or am I forced to talk to an unspecified antagonist?"
"You want to see me? For what purpose?"
"To satisfy curiosity. You've probably had plenty of time to look at me."
"Do you think I was interested?"
"I don't care about your interest"
He thrust the knife out again, this time close to his throat.
"Be a little more polite, eh? You're a mouthy one, but things are different here"
"What else do I have left? Should I break down, is that your goal?"
"If that's what you feel like. I'm asking for a little culture"
"Let's assume you know it. What difference will that make?"
"I'll know what my situation is"
"So you're asking me for some relief, don't you feel like that would be a favor you don't deserve?"
The blade of the knife was dangerously close to my carotid artery. I tilted my neck as far as I could - for the first time fear washed over me.
"I'm right, about what exactly?" his voice sounded mocking - he was clearly having a great time.
"Good girl, you finally get it" He moved the knife away from my skin, and I sighed with relief. It didn't last long, though - instead of the blade of the knife, I felt the pads of his fingers on my neck. When they tightened, they seemed even colder than before. I started to panic, feeling his nails dig deeper.
"This is a foretaste, princess. You have to treat me with respect, then I will return the favor"
He let go of me, and I coughed. I felt the gag tightening around my mouth again. I tried to push it away with my tongue - of course, in vain.
"I'm leaving you, darling. I'll come back when you're really hungry"
2087
theartofmadeline
areudirty
titsay
jacobvanloon
