There was kindness in his eyes, a gentleness. It was a smile of one who laughed with ease—but I wouldn't let it betray me.
"I am not going to hurt you," he insisted, seeing the scepticism in my eyes.
I started tugging the chains again. The man chucked, "That won't help you, you know, the tugging." pointing his finger almost taunting.
And with that he untied my hands and feet and backed away to his seat. I tried to stand but my feet gave out—the consequence of staying in one position too long.
Every time he opened his mouth I got angrier. My brain came up with a million and one snarky responses.
I tried to swallow my retort. I did not know this man—or what he could do, so I decided against it.
Only that made the urge worse.
Adrenaline rushing, I stood once again and snapped. My rage came out faster than magma and quite destructive. It probably wasn't my best decision yet.
"Y-you asshole! Let me go! This instant!"
"Can't do that sweetheart," he stated quite amused by my outburst.
"Well, what do you want from me? You can't do this to me, you know? Are you going to sell me on the black market?" I stammered out, quite scared of that outcome.
"First off there's alot I want from you, but that is not what I want and this is not the place to discuss those matters, come with me."
"And why do you think I would even come with you, I don't even know you." I sneered.
"To be honest darling, you don't have a choice."
"Hph."
"Follow me."
No longer was the door closed, no bright light came from the hallway.
A silk-white gown falls above my knees, quite distressed by the events of the past few hours. The halls are dressed in black-and-white, the tiles a checkerboard print.
The hallway stank. The whole building sent chills to my spine. It reminded me of something out of my nightmares.
I do not want to be here, I think as I wrap my arms around my chilled body; this is the last place I wanted to be.
Hesitantly I walk up to the door he lead me to. Slowly opening the door, it lets out a groan as the hinges protest, he guides me in.
Laughter sounds along the walls, joined with excited conversations and shouts. Women perched on the tables gossiping and giggling.
Groups of people sit around the room laughing, causing all kinds of ruckus. That was until I entered the room.
There was knee deep silence. There was no sound. No-one spoke as we walked through the passage.
I could feel the fear building up in my chest waiting to take over. A heavy silence ran over them. It was as if I attracted all the attention the room—or, was the man behind me? I had no idea.
And yet, the silence spoke volumes. Some shifted uncomfortably in their seat while other's judging whispers swirled around me. I felt painfully out of place.
Once again, he opened the door for me. I had a snarky reply which would clearly state that I could open my own doors, but seeing I had no sense of direction in this place, I let it slide.
The door opened in what I presume—his office.
It was huge room with curtained windows. The walls contained a door, a floor to ceiling bookshelf, and a single painting—of me.
The surface of his desk: a computer, a notebook, and a framed photograph of a teenage boy.
"Please, take a seat," he said as he sat in his own. It was only then I realised my captor did not enter alongside us.