Captured {Moderately Slow Updates}

Chapter Twenty Five

Allison

After Eric brought me back to the room, he confiscated any bobby pins that I had in my possession. As he closed the door, he popped his head through the small opening and made sure to fit in a snarky comment.

"Have fun in here alone. Hopefully you'll be able to survive at least five minutes without John." He chuckled, then finally shut the door.

I walked over to the king-sized bed and picked up a soft, beige, fluffy pillow. Hugging it, I thought about how close I was to releasing Richard. We could have been running away together by now, miles away from the damned mansion.

But no, because the odds just don't seem to be in your favor lately.

But, what if? What would have happened if I did release Richard? What would have happened if we never got caught? Where would we go? What would we do?

Obviously, the logical thing to do would be to call the police.

But then what? Would Richard get in trouble? Would he be incarcerated?

My reverie was suddenly interrupted by the sound of an alarm. The noise was excruciatingly loud, and I struggled to cover my ears as I dropped to my knees.

The next few minutes were a blur. Everything happened so quickly. The next thing I knew, I was in a dark and empty room.

I was sitting on the smooth concrete floor, the frigid air soaking through my skin to my bones. I held my knees close to my body and rocked silently back and forth as I attempted to recount the events that unfolded before my eyes just minutes ago.

Richard, barging into my room.

Richard, picking me up into his arms.

Richard, running desperately down the stairs and out of the mansion.

Eric's angry snarl as he pulled out his gun.

My gut-wrenching scream, telling Richard to run out of Eric's line of sight.

The boom of the gunshot.

Richard's scream after the bullet made contact with his left leg.

Eric stomping over to Richard with a morbid look in his eyes.

Eric repeatedly kicking Richard in the stomach. Consistently, as if there was no end.

That's it. That was all I could recall before I blacked out and woke up in this room.

I cautiously looked around and took in my surroundings. There was a bed with a barred, rusted frame in the corner to my left. The mattress seemed rather thin and worn out; it was completely bare.

To the right of me was a wide steel door, preventing me from escaping. It's silver finish worn and scratched; most likely due to the attempts of extrication from other prisoners.

I stared at the iron curtain separating me from the rest of the world; separating me from Richard.

I silently recounted the various times that I have been entrapped in a room. All instances circled around this week. This room in particular, I would have to say is quite a winner. The frigid concrete floor and dark atmosphere is very inviting. I'll have to comment on that when Eric comes in, because he will show up. He always has, after all.