Waking up to the sounds of water dribbling down onto concrete and birds chirping in the distance, Rosalyn groaned as she slowly stirred awake.
Feeling an intense pounding in her head and the heaviness of her body, she slowly got up. Or tried. She couldn't move her hands or legs…
She tried to wriggle her body but discovered that there were ropes tied around her. Her ankles and wrists wailing in pain as she unsuccessfully tried to pull them free.
Opening her eyes, she looked around her. It looked like she was in an old basement.
Concrete-grey walls with cracks, puddles on the ground and a small window high up on one of the walls. The smell of mold permeated through the air.
From the small window, the basement was allowed a sliver of sunshine, bringing light into the basement. At least there wasn't complete darkness in the room.
Rosalyn examined the room with a dull interest. She felt a complete lack of concern for her current situation. The day had already been bad; and now this.
She also felt a weird sense of déJà vu... Not for this room or place, but rather a feeling of having been in a similar situation before...
Had she? She tried to remember as her throbbing head evolved into a splitting headache. Lightly groaning, she decided the thought could be left for another time.
Few things could be worth remembering if the cost was her head splitting open from pain.
How long had she been asleep? Looking back at the window and the sun streaming in, Rosalyn concluded that it must be daytime. Was it later the same day or had she been asleep for longer?
One day? Multiple days? She really had no way of knowing.
Was Elliott still waiting for her? Had he been by her apartment yet? Had he called the police?
Had he contacted her family? She really hoped he hadn't… That would cause her an extra headache when she got back.
'If' she got back…
How ironic; even when she was lying here, bound and kidnapped, she expected no help from her family. Rather, she would be happy if they didn't make things worse...
They always had a way of making things her fault. If they got wind of her getting kidnapped, they would probably worry more about what she did to get kidnapped, rather than how she was doing or if she was still alive...
Choosing to throw away that disappointing thought before it got a chance to fester, she started contemplating how she got there.
The last thing she remembered was being in the taxi, waiting for it to take her home and being ready for the day to end. Had she fallen asleep in the taxi? Had she been taken from there? Or had she gotten home and simply forgotten...
Did it even really matter? Either way she was now kidnapped.
But by who...?
Did Mark have someone kidnap her? Wasn't it a bit fast for something that was just threatened earlier in the day? Or maybe he had planned it for a long time, deciding that now was the moment to act?
Or was it someone else?
Why would someone kidnap her? What value did she have? Or maybe they had taken the wrong person?
Her family would not pay a ransom if one was asked for and even if her business was doing well, it wasn't doing 'kidnap-worthy' well.
There seemed to be someone else in the basement, but it wasn't really of importance at this moment.
What was important now was the condition of her body. She felt heavy all over and her headache was making every second a battle.
She felt tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep and sleep some more. But she couldn't. She would have to find a way out.
No matter the reason for her capture, she didn't expect anyone to come find her.
Her best bet would be that Elliott would call the police, but they wouldn't act before it had been 48 hours... And with her history of being in a coma and her accident, they might not take it seriously.
If they talked to her family, they would most probably tell them not to bother and focus their resources on more important matters.
They might even be glad she was gone...
Letting out a sigh, she once again tried to gather herself. It was of no help to think about things she could do nothing about.
From the direction of her feet, she could hear quiet mumblings. Trying to look over, she could see a young man sitting against the wall in the dimly lit basement.
The young man was gently rocking back and forth, much like a young child soothing itself.
The room was too dark for her to be able to see him clearly, but once again she felt a sense of familiarity.
She had felt the situation she found herself in familiar, but it became even more so when she saw the young man. Had she seen him somewhere before? She tried to remember.
Again, her headache worsened, so she just let the thought be. Even if he was someone she had seen before, it was probably someone she had seen at a banquet or walked past in passing. He probably wasn't someone she had had any sort of relationship with.
If she had, she would have remembered, right?
Rosalyn, for the first time, regretted not having taken the psychologist up on his offer to help with her headaches and emotions. Maybe she would seriously consider it when she got back.
Though she did consider it a good thing, in her current situation, that she had such good control of her emotions, as she felt no panic or despair finding herself in unfamiliar territory.
But... Being able to try and remember things, that might be of importance, as to why she was kidnapped and by who, would also have been preferred. But more than being in control? She wasn't sure...
Well, either way, it was a thought for later, so she simply stored it away for a later date. Whether she saw a psychologist or not, her life would still move on.
And she still needed to escape from here, before any of this became relevant.
With her eyes getting more used to the dim light in the room, she looked closer at the young man. His clothes were ripped and stained in several places. It was hard to see in the dark, but she was sure it was a combination of accumulated dirt and dried blood. This combined with his rocking back-and-forth mumbling to himself; he was probably in a rough condition.
Rosalyn scrutinised him a bit more while contemplating the risks of the captors potentially torturing her while she was there.
Had they captured them for information? Did she have any information that would be worth kidnapping her for?
Or were they not interested in information at all? Had they taken them for a different purpose? But if they were to be sold, she didn't see the need for torture... Hmm... She would have to observe more when the kidnappers returned. Maybe she could gather something about the young man.
Why was he here? Was it even related to her own situation? Had he been here long? Why did he keep mumbling to himself?
He seemed young. How old was he? Maybe in his early twenties?
She had too many questions, but didn't want to ask any of them out loud in case there were surveillance monitoring them.
And then the child laying still, close to the wall with the window…
Why was there a child here down in the basement? Based on the size of the body, the child was probably too young to even go to school.
Why would such a small child be her together with them?
If there were multiple children, or multiple women, she might have thought she was taken by human traffickers. But a guy in his early twenties, a child too young for school and herself, a 26-year-old woman, what did they have in common? She couldn't make sense of it.
The child, lying with its back against her in a foetal position, on the hard concrete floor, was clad in dirty clothes and snoring lightly as she analysed it.
She tried to look for wounds but saw non. Luckily, it seemed the child hadn't been treated as badly as the young man.
Seeing that there was nothing else in the room except the three of them, she decided she had gathered all the information she could in the given situation.
Her head was still pounding, her body still heavy and she was more tired than she could remember having been in a long while.
It almost felt like when she just woke up from her coma. She just wanted to sleep and save her questions for a time when she had more energy. When her body didn't feel so bad, and her mind was more at ease.
She was still affected by how Mark had turned on her in their last meeting. It was an experience so outside what she had ever expected from him, that the shock was still in her body.
Even if she wanted to forget about how he had acted and focus on her current situation, it seemed she couldn't separate the two. It was as if the shock refused to leave her body, stealing away at her already limited energy. The violence refusing to leave her mind.
She knew her emotions were hidden even more now than before and that she now felt less. That her mind would protect itself by being logical and locking away her emotions step-by-step. That she would reason out how she felt, without really feeling the emotions.
Even if she didn't have time to sleep to recharge, maybe she could take a quick nap? There was nothing more she could do at the moment other than wait and hope for an opportunity.
But did she have that time? She had no idea of how long she had been down there, or how long she would have to wait until the kidnappers would grace them with their presence. Then maybe they would spill some information...
Deciding that she couldn't take the chance to possibly miss something by sleeping, she decided to wait. She would try to relax as much as possible, keep all thoughts out of her head and try to recharge some energy.
***
Hearing creaking from above, she looked up, pausing her rest. There were wooden boards above her, with small cracks allowing light to come in. There hadn't been any light there before, so someone must have put on the light as they arrived.
Hearing the creaking, there seemed to be multiple people above them. Dust was falling down from the ceiling, falling onto her, and making it hard to breath. It felt as if with every breath she took, she also inhaled a mouthful of dust, irritating her throat.
Lightly coughing, she sharpened her ears, refusing to miss even a single sound coming from upstairs.
She could hear them talk together but couldn't understand what they were saying. It was a foreign language; maybe Russian? She didn't know if this was important, but made a mental note of it, nonetheless.
She kept listening to the people above speaking, just in case they decided to switch to English or if they mentioned any names she might know.
If she was lucky she might even be able to find some clues as to why she had gotten kidnapped and who the others in the room with her were.
As she was staining her ears to listen to what was happening above, she made out three different voices, all belonging to men.
They talked for a while in relaxed voices before everything quieted once again.
Then, after some more time, the lights turned off and the basement was dimmed once again.