I don't remember where they took me or when we made it to our final destination. I don't even remember if Damon made it to his car in time or not. What I do know is the intense throbbing in my head, the cold tiles against my knees, and multiple voices around me, talking about me like I'm not right in front of them. In truth, I may not be. The blindfold still covers my eyes, but I faintly see a figure pacing around.
"Does he know?"
His voice sounds familiar and I try to place it, but the pounding in my head increases until all I can do is sit there silently and helplessly listen to their conversation.
"Yes, he raced out to get her."
Damon. They are talking about Damon. That's an easy one.
Finally able to follow their conversation, I perk my ears and listen more intently.
"Did he follow you here?"
"No," I gnash my teeth as I hear the voice of the man who punched me in the face. "He was for a while, but we lost him two hours before we made it."
Two hours? How far away am I from home? Am I still in the same state? I resist the urge to move, to show any signs of panic. I know they will take it for weakness and I cannot afford to be seen as weak by my captors.
"He must care for the bitch if he followed her for that long."
Who is he calling me that?! He doesn't even know me! Wait, "that long"? How long was Damon following us? Does this mean I am over two hours away?
Focus. Focus. We need to listen to find out more information. Maybe they will slip and say something important.
"What should we do with her, boss?"
"Put her in the same room that he was in."
Okay. Okay, what do we know? The man who was speaking and asking questions was the boss, he was the same person on the phone. Both of my captors are still here, making around three men total in this building. Most importantly, I am in the same place that Damon was when they took him. Idiots.
A spark of hope fills my body when I realize that Damon knows exactly where I am. He may have been blindfolded, but he escaped, surely he remembers something about this place.
Footsteps move across the tile, the sound getting louder and closer to me with every step they take.
Focus. Don't show any weakness. We are not their prey.
Two sets of large hands grab my arms and heave me up. I lose my footing from sitting on my knees for so long, but quickly regain it and struggle in their holds.
Use them against each other.
I move sideways and swing my body back and forth. Eventually, one of them will lose their balance and drop me making the other man lose his hold on me from the sudden extra weight.
Heaving me up and to his side, the sheer force of his strength almost pops my arm out of my socket. Whispering in my ear to stop moving, chills cover my body from head to toe.
Don't show weakness.
Deciding to keep all of my body parts in place, I comply and stay still. Instead, I resort my energy to tracking how long it takes to get to my room and how we get there, similar to Liam Neeson in "Taken." If I remember, I may be able to escape if the opportunity ever presents itself. Closing my eyes, I let my body feel the movement. Fifteen steps to the right, down one flight of stairs, ten steps until the room they are keeping me in.
Fifteen steps to the right, down one flight of stairs, another ten steps.
Fifteen steps to the right, down one flight of stairs, another ten steps.
I repeat the way multiple times. I need to remember this. This could save my life and from the looks of it, I am the only one who is going to be able to save me. I need to be smart about this.
The creak of the door is like nails against a chalkboard, it grates against my ears and I wish I could move my hands up to cover them. They pull me inside and place me on a cold, hard floor. My back is against something cold, big, and circular. A pipe maybe? Taking my arms, one of my captors puts both of them behind my back and around the pipe before tying them together. The strain of my muscle is uncomfortable, but I resist the urge to squirm. Would they pull my arms tighter to tie the rope tighter if I moved?
Dragging his finger down my face, I quickly turn it away. A sharp intake of breath is heard before nails dig into my cheeks and my face is brought forward. "Now be a good little girl and we may bring you something to eat later." His breath smells of smoke and whiskey, I scrunch my nose at the foul odor.
Aggressively he lets go of my face and it turns sideways from the force he used while taking his hand off of me.
Two pairs of feet walk out of the room and one of them slams the door, the hinges screeching.
For the next couple of days, everything is quiet. I didn't receive dinner that night, nor the night after that or the night after that. My wrists are rubbed raw from constantly moving against the rope, trying to free myself and all of my energy is depleted from the lack of food and sleep. It is impossible to comfortably rest against the cold floor and pole, and my mind won't shut off. What if they come in here and try to hurt me? I need to listen out for any movement to get to know their routines. Will they bring me food today? What day is it anyway?
My ears ring with an obnoxious sound. I know that sound. I know I know that sound. Think, Rose. We know that sound. I try and rack my brain, but everything comes up blank. Why can't I remember?
"Hello, Doll."
I shrink away from the voice. Why is someone in here? I was a good girl. I didn't do anything, nothing that they could see anyways. Why is someone in here? Were they there the whole time? What was that sound from before?
My body flinches as goosebumps raise throughout my body as the feeling of skin-on-skin contact envelopes me.
No, this is bad. Move away.
Shifting my head off of the person's cold grasp, they tighten their grip against my chin and yank my face forward. He speaks crude words all the while I focus on the sent of his breath with a wrinkled nose. I know this smell too!
I know that I'm in a basement because the company that Damon framed kidnapped me during the morning. They brought me to the basement, I think, and in the same room as Damon was once held captive in.
The squeak was the- was the door! So, if the squeak was the door, then this… this is… this is one of my captors. The same one who touched my cheek that day! How many days ago was that? Did he bring any food with him? Sniffing around, all I can smell is his putrid breath. Does he not have a toothbrush? Thinking about it, I probably smell and look worse than him, who am I to judge?
"I have food for you."
Like a dog who hasn't eaten in a couple of days, I stick my nose in the air and smell around again. Is he lying? I can't smell anything. He must be lying.
Something shuffles on the floor and my stomach lets out the loudest roar I have ever heard, it echos throughout the room.
"Someone's hungry."
He lets go of my chin, more gently this time. It still has enough force for my head to turn sideways, but it doesn't hurt as much now as it did then. Moving my feet around, gently as to not knock over the only thing I may eat for a while, I hear my captor laugh but concentrate more on finding something to stop the incessant growling. Just a little bit of food and I'll be fine.
My toe touches the plate and I want to cry tears of joy. Wrapping the arch of my foot around it, I bring it closer to my body and bend my chest over, the strain on my arms tenfold, to eat whatever is on the plate. I don't care what it is. Feeling around, a single tear slips out of my eye, and my stomach's cries automatically die down. There is nothing on the plate.
Wait, why is there a plate? Where did it come from? Is someone in here with me?