In Their Hands

January 2, 2013

So, I have been updating pretty consistently. This is my favorite chapter so far :D Tanner wrote some of this too btw (: 

Oh and also, this is nothing like the book, The Cellar.. Js

"You're awake."

I open my eyes hesitantly, the black dots that are clouding my vision slowly beginning to fade. Looking around, I see that I'm in a bedroom; but not my bedroom. The walls are covered in a light blue paint, just like the ones in my room, but they aren't mine. And then there is a single bed, which I'm sitting on. A white sheet is barely covering my legs. There's one lamp in the corner being propped up by a small dresser, and a body length mirror leaning against the wall. And then there is Mr. Smith.

What the...

Why is he... this isn't my room...

My wrists hurt.

That's when I remember.

I was kidnapped.

I look up at my neighbor, and I don't want to put the pieces together. I'm surprised my brain is working so well.

I was kidnapped my neighbor who lives just right behind me.

Thousands of questions pop into my head at once, but one stands out above all the others:

"What are you doing Mr. Smith? Why am I here? I want to go home."

When he doesn't respond, and I realize that I'm not being bound to the bed by anything, I start to glance around the room looking for an escape route. There are no windows. Nothing I can use to... hurt him. Could I hurt him? To my disappointment there's only one. The door, which Mr. Smith is standing directly in front of.

"Why don't you save your questions for later? There are more important things to do." He finally answers, giving me one final glance, before walking out of the room and shutting the door.

A few moments after he shuts the door, I look down. I'm wearing the same clothes I was wearing earlier today. Wait, is it still today? How long have I been here? My head doesn't hurt, I just feel... tired.

I look at the door, and to my surprise, there's a lock on the inside. And, again, to my surprise, it's not been used. Stretching my legs quietly off the bed, I run to it in hopes that he's not just standing there on the other side, waiting for me to do something. Slowly moving my hand towards the knob, I softly try to twist it. It's unlocked, just like I thought. I let out a small breath before slowly opening the door and ducking out. Taking a peek around the corner I see Mr. and Mrs. Smith having a conversation. My heart sinks a little, but I don't let myself think about it. Quietly, I duck down and crawl close enough to hear their conversation, but far enough for them not to see me.

"We should've taken someone else; someone who nobody would suspect was gone. Not our own neighbor, Bill!" I hear Mrs. Smith say heatedly. "We've known her since she was a child!"

"I know Barbara, but she was so perfect. She's everything you've ever wanted in a daughter. You should be thanking me. I gave you what you wanted... what we've always wanted. I know this isn't the best way, but she's..."

"People will ask questions. Her family can afford the top private investigators or something to find her. We'll never be able to take her anywhere with us."

"That's why we'll disguise her."

I don't wait any longer to hear them. I can't. These people, the one's that I grew up with... What's wrong with them? Quickly, hoping they'll be too surprised to do anything, I jump up and run past them towards the only exit - the back door. Being in the Smith's house too many times before, I know they keep their front door bolted. It's the one facing the woods and they don't think it's safe. It's the one I need now, though. It would take too long to unlock all of the locks, and they'd probably catch me before I finished. Just as my hand touches the handle though, I feel someone grip my hair and tug me back roughly. Turning around, I'm surprised to see that it's not Mr. Smith doing it; it's Mrs. Smith. She looks sorry the minute I make eye contact with her, but her husband tells her to keep tight.

Before I even get the chance to scream or fight back, Mr. Smith grabs me as well. Mr. Smith throws me back into the room and holds me down while Mrs. Smith leaves. I continue trying to struggle, but it's useless.

Mrs. Smith, or Barbara, or whoever she is right now, comes back with a briefcase.

"I'll go get the chair," Mr. Smith says, exiting the room as Barbara takes his place restraining me.

Soon after, Mr. Smith comes in with a wooden chair with arm and leg straps attached to it. I can't really fathom what's happening.

"Please, don't," I beg as they both drag me into the chair and strap me up. "Just let me go, I won't tell, I swear!" I don't know what they're doing, but nothing good is crossing my mind.

"Be quiet sweetie, this'll only take a second if you behave," Mrs. Smith tries to sooth me. She touches my hair, and I shake.

Mr. Smith stands on my other side with some sort of scalpel, only sharper, in his hand.

"Open your mouth," he orders.

I clamp my jaw shut and start to sob uncontrollably. Mrs. Smith grabs my mouth roughly, prying it open, while sticking something in it to keep it that way. It's somewhat like a clamp, but pushes out instead of in. Like what they use on you at the dentist office when getting your teeth cleaned.

"Now stay very still and your braces will be off in no time," Mr. Smith says, coming closer and closer with the scalpel. I try as hard as I can to close my mouth.

And then, there's nothing but pain.

Tooth by tooth, he rips the brackets off. I don't understand why they're...

Next is my hair. I'm dragged to the bathroom, where I'm forced to watch Mrs. Smith cut my hair - my long, brown hair - to my shoulders. The same length as hers.

At one point I almost get ahold of the scissors, and Mrs. Smith doesn't like that.

Then she dyes my hair, with some disgusting smelling packet of goop, a nasty shade of blonde. It's the same color as hers.

The bathroom has a window, and I can see the sun. It's too bright to be the same day, I know it. That means that someone has to know that I'm not...

I think about my parents and Ashlee. They won't be home for a few more days, I think.

But Justin...

He saw me, didn't he?

My lips start to tremble, just as Mrs. Smith finishes with my hair. She calls her husband in, who is standing by the door. You know, just in case I actually managed to get out.

The door opens and he walks in. His face lights up.

"Oh, what a pretty girl!" He turns to his wife. "Let's get her changed, and then we can take the picture."

Mrs. Smith smiles.

"Our first family picture," she beams. She looks at me and kisses my cheek. I imagine burning the spot where her lips touched my skin.

She looks at me.

"Did you hear that, Alice? Our first family picture."