𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐀𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 × 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭
Synopsis: It's been a long time since you've been in this moldy basement, every day the chances of being found get lower so... What better idea than to take over the stores yourself? In a stroke of luck looks like God is finally on your side, so what could go wrong?
TW: kidnapping, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, verbal abuse, Psychological abuse, Failed escape attempt, Victim blaming.
The first thing I've ever written, I hope it's at least enjoyable 😭🙏 I accept constructive criticism 🫶
—Be good sweetheart… y 'know i trust you. —says Jacob, kneeling with one leg on the bed where I'm resting, at the same time he unties the complicated knot that joins my hands to the back of the furniture.
They are red. When I release them, I bring them to my face to inspect the damage, and I barely notice a tingling where before I felt nothing, I close and open My hands in an attempt to return them to normal. The sensation increases, my bones ache and the muscles along with the skin feel tense and cold.
A lot of time has passed.
I lost count after two months if I'm not wrong. Because when he gets angry, he "forgets" to bring me food and hunger prevents me from remembering certain things, both the time I was down here, as well as the names of my coworkers... And other things that I don't remember either. Besides, all that information did was plunge me deeper into my misery, making me think that every day was a greater chance that they wouldn't continue looking for me.
—Relax, I'll be fine here... —I grit my teeth to endure the uncomfortably long kiss he placed on my forehead. I felt his poorly trimmed beard pricking my skin, and his hot breath when he parted.
Even though I was forgetting many things, I couldn't get the day I got there out of my head. He invited me to his house; naively, I accepted. A power outage was all it took to drag me downstairs and deprive me of anything but the damp walls of this basement. The laundry room fixtures and exposed pipes didn't improve the atmosphere, along with its poor lighting, which made everything even more depressing.
—I gotta make dinner, ok dear? —he pulls me out of my thoughts with his lovesick high school voice, which hasn't faded in all this time, and I think it's even gotten worse.
Sometimes when he's home, Jacob lets me wander untethered through the basement. It's hard to see because of the red light he uses to develop his photos, but I still managed to scavenge for anything that would help me get out of that hell. I started doing it recently, because the fear stop paralyze me at even the thought of trying escape.
I used to use those moments to settle in the most comfortable sleeping positions, stretch my muscles, or even pray. Until it started to depress me even more, it felt humiliating to beg something that never even showed up to get me out of a hell he put me in and that clearly no one deserved.
But despair started knocking at my door. I realized that I'm going to end up dying anyway. Whether it's because he killed me, or a combination of my atrophied muscles and lack of sunlight, I've got nothing to lose by using my last hopes to try to escape.
I've already searched through boxes, behind and inside barrels, on shelves, under the bed, inside the washing machine; making sure to wash my hands thoroughly in the neglected bathroom, so he wouldn't notice the dirt under my nails and punish me for snooping around.
—You wanted some roast beef? Are you sure honey? I don't know if you'll like it.
—Yes! Please, I've always wanted to try it, especially if it's made by your hands... —My chest tightens as I hear how at the end of my sentence, my voice trembled from how difficult it was to act that way, but it was for my survival.
I don't really like roast beef; it's acidic and highly seasoned, but it's a dish that requires a lot of time cooking and careful monitoring. I'll be able to search in the most difficult places with peace of mind, and hopefully I won't have to worry about him for a while.
Jacob brushes his calloused thumb against my cheek, accompanied by a honeyed look. I do nothing but mentally count his facial pores until he's finished. When he seems satisfied, he decides to get up, murmurs a slight grunt due to his knee and I watch him head toward the stairs that lead to the rest of the house, which although I now live in it, I had never seen again.
I stand for a few seconds, waiting for the creaking of the stairs to stop and for the door to lock . I stare around, absorbing my loneliness.
I sit down on the bed and put on my slippers, the ones he stole from my house so I'd feel more "comfortable" here. I get up slowly, my legs wobbly from lack of strength, but they get used to the weight on them as I take careful steps to the side of the bed.
I walk as quickly as I can to a couple of dusty boxes under his photography tool rack; Most of them look old and long untouched. I bend down with great effort and use my fingernails to pry the lids off one of them with as little intervention as possible.
At first glance, it's clear they're just high school trophies or framed family photos. It's obvious Jacob didn't like that time of his life very much. I find his graduation photo where he's with his family holding a diploma.
His father seems like a very elegant and calm man. He's smiling as he places his hand on Jacob's shoulder, while the mother of the family has no smile on her face and has her hands behind her back, as if she were a teenager who was forced to attend. Jacob looks uncomfortable but is forcing a smile.
There are some trophies from photography contests and diplomas from computer courses. I don't think there's anything useful in there, so I decide to close the box slowly, with surgical precision, as if the sound of the old cardboard would give me away.
The other box is in better condition. It has bags on top of it, so I have to move them out of the way. A shiver runs down my spine before I open it, but I still stick my fingernail under the cardboard lid to lift it enough to get my hands inside.
My legs ache from kneeling so much. I'd change positions, but I wouldn't be able to see the contents properly; it's a sacrifice worth making. I just have to finish quickly.
The box is full of junk, a device for measuring the temperature of frying oil, old video game consoles, and some broken camera lenses. But after removing several items, I managed to spot something that caught my eye. I vaguely remember it from a TV show I watched before I was here.
To confirm it, I press the power button on one of the two sides with the thumb of the hand holding it. A blue flash, along with a sound of static, fills the corner of the room. I can't help but drop the object in shock with a slight gasp. It's a teaser
I managed to find something useful.
I quickly grab it from the cold floor and hide it under the oversized T-shirt I was wearing; as if Jacob were watching me from the walls.
I get back to my bed, clutching the device with both hands as if it might vanish at any moment. I try to hide it somewhere easy to reach but still not obvious. My eyes meet the crack between the scuffed mattress and the wall; it's the perfect spot. Looks like God has finally taken my side after all.
I tuck it in, making sure it doesn't fall and covering it slightly with the yellowish blankets. It's not noticeable that anything's there. I feel bad that this is going too well; it's just too much luck for everything to turn out the way I want it to.
I lie down on the bed, trying to cover it with my body, immersed in my thoughts while biting my nails from the stress. The knot in my chest widens, and the urge to put the stun gun back where it belongs gnaws at my brain. If this goes wrong, it's the end. Maybe I should look for a more discreet alternative... This isn't gonna work, Besides, what was I supposed to do? Those guns only immobilize you for a few seconds and disorient you a little longer. Could I even manage to get his hands through the ropes in that time? Would I even be able to pull them tight enough to keep him from getting out? I have to do it as soon as possible. The longer it's there, the more likely I'll find him. But Even if it turns out, what would I do next?
The sound of the door lock alerts me, and I realize how many hours I've spent wandering. I compose myself by sitting up in bed, and the creaking of the stairs continues with the same old rhythm I've become familiar with.
He comes with a plate of meat and baked potatoes. I don't want to eat it; I haven't liked it since I was little.
—I'm not hungry now... Leave it on the table! I'll eat it later, okay?
Jacob looks at me with a nostalgic smile, as if I were a little kid you love very much, but you have to be patient with.
Carefully places the plate on the chipped table next to me.
He was always a very awkward man; would stare at me with a faint smile while eating, so I always preferred to say the same thing "I'm not hungry now".
I see him lean his hands on the knees to help himself up and leave. Turns away with a sigh, and I decide not to miss my chance.
—But... —The blonde man turns around with a childlike excitement in his eyes, as if he's been waiting for this moment since he first saw me and has to handle it carefully. —Can you stay with me for a nap? I don't like being alone here...
—I thought you'd never ask... —A foolish smile spreads across his face as he sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving mine.
Every time Jacob sleeps here, he ties me up because still can't completely trust me. I don't mind because I don't want to do anything, but I don't think that rule is unbreakable...
I turn to him to gently place my hands on his chest, applying gentle pressure to signal him to lie down. He obeys with a pathetic look in his eyes, and when his head touches the flimsy pillow, I lie down next to him, resting my head on his chest. The man doesn't even breathe and seems tense, as if I were a moody cat and you didn't have to move to prevent them from leaving.
I look at him, trying to get his approval for what I'm doing; the look on his face it's the same as a silly child who's just been given a new BIG gift. I massage his chest in circular motions with three of my fingers to calm him down and see if he'll fall asleep before remembering I'm not immobilized.
Little by little, he lets go, placing his right hand on my waist, with a breathing every time more rhythmic and calm. The side of his head rests on mine, and the other calloused hand caresses my face.
I went over the plan over and over in my head, more like an impossible childhood fantasy, but a lovely one to imagine. I can't believe I actually have the SLIGHTEST chance of getting of of here.
Now I have to wait until it's safe enough to act. I want to cover myself because of the freezing cold in the basement, but my fear of alerting him prevents me. I prefer to stay still, staring at the damp walls, while I ramble about my life before I was here and everything I could have done if this hadn't happened.
After what seems like hours, he begins to snore loudly. I'm already familiar with the noise because it can be heard from his room all the way down to the basement...
The fact that this was the moment I was supposed to start working on my escape plan made me want to throw up. Turning to look at him makes me realize how dry my eyes were from all the time I kept them open, dissociating while waiting for the perfect moment.
I carefully remove his hand from my face and place it on his chest. He'd already moved his head a while ago, so I slowly get up to move the hand holding my waist to his side. I lift myself enough to kneel on the bed and remain motionless, looking at him. The weight of how impossible it all seemed suddenly hits me, and the knot of helplessness in my chest spreads to my entire body.
I try to turn around to face the mound of sheets containing my secret, but I feel my legs tingling and trembling with nerves.
All the chances of this going wrong, and this time he might not "forgive me", were left in the lump in my throat. As I knelt beside him in bed, I turned my head to see him peacefully asleep beside me as if he were an innocent man, but there was no turning back now; it was now or never.
I begin to remove the layers of sheets covering the crack. I can't feel my hands, but now it's from fear; they're trembling. I feel the hard plastic underneath, and a shiver runs through my body.
I remember how he always talks to me about how the outside world is getting more dangerous every day. He talks to me about wars, injustice, corruption "but you're okay here, you'll always be okay." That's what he always tells me, in a sweet tone that at first disgusted me, but now I've learned to tolerate it.
Sometimes I start to believe him. It makes me sick; a normal person would think I'm stupid, and it's obvious why he'd want me to think that. But do I have any other choice? No, there could be a zombie apocalypse out there, and my only "reliable" source of information would be him. Besides, it doesn't sound so crazy... The world wasn't that different when I left.
It hurts to think for even a second about how I got used to this. My own mind torments me, telling me that I don't really want to escape, that I'm doing everything so that if one day they find me, they won't think I did nothing to prevent it and that I wanted this.
Finally, I see the teaser beside the cold bed. I grab it with both hands, feeling itchy when I squeeze hard. I rethink all this, and my eyes begin to blur. I just want to curl up into a ball, cover my ears, and cry until I'm home again, my real home.
I'm afraid that the undetectable sound of my labored breathing will give me away. I feel my limbs begin to tingle before I lose my sense of touch. My stomach threatens to vomit up nothingness since I hadn't touched the now-cold plate of meat.
My hands, barely able to contain themselves, can't help but be on the verge of dropping it. I get into position, memorizing the location of the power button over and over again. I'm not ready, and I'll never be, but there's no other option.
And as if I were jumping into an ice pool, I count to three.
A strength I didn't know I had surges through me while press the power button. My hands rush to Jacob's neck as a blue flash and a crackling sound fill the room. I jab the two prongs of the device into his dry skin, and he begins to convulse.
His eyelids crease as they try to close as much as possible, his muscles visibly contracting one by one as he screams and grunts, unable to understand what's happening. His back arches and his hands try Vaguely to reach his attacker without success.
He writhes, unable to understand what's happening. My hands release their grip on the electric gun, letting it fall on the exhausted man's chest. I remind myself that I have to take advantage of my captor's state to immobilize him. He groans weakly and doesn't even try to open his eyes, so I grab both of his wrists —which are heavier than I thought— and bring them closer to the rope that previously held me. His hands pass through the hole, and I grab the piece of rope responsible for the pressure.
I thought I wouldn't be able to do it because whenever I tried to apply the slightest force with my hands, they would start to tingle and wouldn't let me go any further, but the effect wears off as if my body understood how important this was, and it allows me to put all my strength into pulling that rope as hard as possible. My captor continues to moan in pain, His eyes refuse to open as his body lies motionless.
I remain motionless for a few moments, hands up, my eyes wide as I stare at him, just like he used to do with me, to see how effective my plan was. Jacob begins to move his head weakly, growling; he seems confused and angry. My heart wanted to hide from the fear this caused me, until I see him begin to squirm, unable to free himself from the restraints, trying to open his eyes without much success.
—W-what the fuck?! —he manages to modulate through the remaining pain from the attack.
I'm trying to search every corner of my brain for where there might be something to help me get out of here, All the times I was in this house, all the times I talked to Jacob, there must be something that helps me… Jacob had approximately 6 locks on his front door, all of them were manual but there was only one that needed a key. The memory hits me, I remember the time I went to his house for dinner. When I left, he rummaged for the keys to the main locks in his back pocket.
That's when I snap out of my trance. I straddle his legs to start searching through the pockets of his beige pants, taking the risk that he doesn't have them at the moment. The blond guy gradually becomes more aware of the situation he's in and tries to throw me off, moving his legs and hips as if it were some kind of sick game of mechanical bull.
—NO, N-NO —he yells shakily and cowardly, kicking like a little kid, to no avail due to my weight on his legs. I continue to rifle through his pockets with difficulty until a warm shiver of relief runs through my body when I touch the cold metal of the keys in Jacob's back pocket. I swing my leg over his body to head for the edge of the bed, bouncing my hips toward it, dodging kicks from my captor.
—UNGRATEFUL WHORE, AFTER EVERYTHING I DID FOR YOU?! I always knew you weren't worth it... THEY'RE ALL THE SAME, THEY NEVER APPRECIATE ANYTHING.
I get out of bed with the keys in my hands. They have a chi bi-style Pacific salmon key-chain. The cuteness of the key-chain seems like a mockery in contrast to Jacob's true nature.
—I should have known, YOU NEVER DESERVED MY LOVE, YOU MADE ME WASTE MY DAMN TIME!
I look at him, for what I hope is the last time, while taking steps back for fear of turning my back on the tied-up blond. But when I'm about to turn around, he says something.
—WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO OUTSIDE BY YOURSELF?!
I don't know what it was about that sentence that scared me, a sudden desire to hide under the bed like when I was a little girl. I froze, and Jacob knew it immediately. Shit... now I regret being such an open book... Because, noticing my hesitation, the green-eyed man realizes he can take control of the situation again with just a bit of effort.
—Do you really think they're going to believe your little story? —He exclaims, in a mocking tone that concealed cowardice and fear of facing the consequences, but I was always very bad at noticing those things. —You're my neighbor, and even the mailman knows we had something! They're going to blame you, and you think they're not going to be right?
I turn around, my throat already closed and my face stars burning from holding back the tears. I instinctively bring my fingers to my mouth to bite them a little to cover my recent tearful face from the shame of showing myself so foolish and manipulable.
—You agreed to a date ALONE at my house! It's obvious you wanted this, and those outside know it. You'll never get what you call "justice." You'll only humiliate yourself and see that I'm right. —he's seething inside, but he's doing his best to appear more logical than erratic.
—I'm saying this for your own good... You were never very smart to make your own decisions did you? Believe me! you're going to regret this —He tells me in a calmer tone, I know I have to get out of here now, but my legs aren't responding and I'm too busy biting my hands to cover my ears with them.
—My love, c'mon you don't want to throw a hissy fit, do you? — He says in a lower tone, trying to regulate herself so I don't run away… —do you remember your job before you were here? —Shit, I know what he's going to say —As far as I remember... You weren't having a great time, were you? Let me refresh my memory... Didn't your boss throw boiling coffee on you? And everyone had defended her? And don't get me started on your coworkers. Isn't that much worse than being here? Protected with water, food, and a man who would do anything for you?
—Enough —I whisper, speaking for the first time in so long my voice sounds strange and my throat feels dry…
—And your parents? Didn't you have a fight with them? Ooh, and they also cut you out of the will! Now all the funding for your planned life is gone! Right?
—STOP —I let out a squeal as my jaw trembles and I bite my lip, unable to hold back the tears any longer, giving the blond a slight but noticeable smile of victory.
—Come here, darling —he murmurs in a forcedly sweet tone.
He made me feel stupid for even trying to escape, stupid for not understanding everything he did for me, as if I were a spoiled little girl whose head can't grasp what's best for her and ends up throwing tantrums that only irritate everyone who tries to help her.
On shaky legs, I walk slowly back to the bed and sit on its edge. my typical glassy eyes are concentrated in Jacob, who seems to be losing circulation in his hands from how tightly I tied him up. "You see what happens when you don't tell me what's on your mind? When you don't trust me? You start having strange and dangerous thoughts darling , but I forgive you, okay? Do you like it when I forgive you? —he whispers, trying to hide his irritation and nervousness about this whole situation by pretending to be worried.
I lay my head on Jacob's chest and let out all the tears I had been holding back, more out of exhaustion than "affection." —There it is... Very well... Now, my love, you have to untie me, because otherwise I can't help you, you know? —he says, thinking about what else he can say to convince the captive to free him. —I promise I won't punish you because I'm not angry with you.
I lift my heavy head from Jacob's shirt, soaked with tears and snot. My sore and slightly swollen eyes look into his with rage and helplessness, while theirs hold a sickly love that indirectly suggests he won't lower his gaze first. A few moments pass without either of us saying anything. I feel like I should have at least slapped him, but I was a coward and with a shaky sigh, I straddled him to untie the knots. I've already lost so much down here, but that staring match hurt more than I thought it would.
