Trapped *Completed* -Editing Slowly-

Ch 2

* ~ A/N ~* This chapter is dedicated to creepyRus! They were the first to comment on my story and have no idea how much it meant to me! Thank you SO much :) And just so anyone who's reading knows, ii'm not going to be one of those writers who make you guys wait for an update until you vote and comment a certain amount. I'm just happy anyones reading :3 ~ *

My eyes widen after taking a few moments to process what he had said. I was the poor unlucky soul. I was the person everyone in this room would be pitying later on tonight. I was the one to die tonight.

"No..." i murmur, shaking my head ever so slightly.

"No... No... NO!" I cry, shaking my head viciously at this point, my voice becoming louder and stronger each second.

He just smirks and grabs my forearm, leaning in so close a wave of discomfort spreads in my body. From his expression, he knew how uncomfortable he was making me. And he loved every second of it. Then, for the first time ever, he did something none of us would have expected.

"I have chosen you, will you come with me, please?"

Please? Had he actually said please? I knew he had said it, but doubt he actually meant it. His mouth showed a small gentle smile, comforting even. But his eyes gave it all away, filled with hatred, no comfort or sympathy what so ever, lust even.

Not waiting for a reply, he pulls me roughly forward, not bothering to be gentle, and slamming my body into his chest. My hands instantly come up just before impact to separate us, even if it may not be much space.

A low chuckle fills the air, sending chills down my spine. His hands come up to grab my wrists, a cold object wrapping around them.

Handcuffs.

As if i'd actually try and escape, i've been told the stories, know the facts, it'd be easier just to go willingly. Although, i guess it is better safe than sorry, or in this case better caged than raged, since he won't be sorry if i run, i'll be the sorry one.

He basically drags me up the withering steps, ignoring me as i lose my balance countless times. His grip on my arm never loosens, always maintaining it's cold, hard, grip, almost as if he were afraid i'd run. A wave of discomfort surges through me as his nails dig into my arm, braking the skin slightly.

Then, for the first time since 3 months ago when i first entered the basement, i see the familiar navy blue door. It stands out in it's crisp perfect condition while the brick walls all around it remain covered in cobwebs and bugs.

Reaching the top, he grips the handle and twists it to the right, a small squeak escaping the knob. Then, a stream of light blinds me, causing my eyes to slam shut tight, and my hands struggle to try and cover my eyelids as the light still seeps through them. His stone like grip prevents me from doing so, causing irritation to sprout in me.

"Go," he commands, letting go of my hands. Any kindness he had a few minutes ago gone completely. Not much of a surprise really.

Quickly, i slip through the door before he can change his mind. As soon as i pass the door however i bring my hands up to shield my eyes, feeling the slight strain on my wrists from the handcuffs. If i moved the cuffs down my slim wrists i could feel the warm, agitated, skin, already knowing without looking that it's as red as a tomato and all the skin is torn.

He appears from behind me suddenly, the door closed and locked once again. Grabbing my wrist once again he pulls me into the hallway, leading me down it until we come upon a set of stairs leading to a single room. The stairs wind around the walls in a circular motion, parts not even connected to the wall and looking excruciating fragile.

Looking back at the man who i have come to highly dislike, i try and put the best pleading and depressed face i can muster at the moment, hoping that he'll take pity on me. I should have known better than to try.

He jabs me in the back while leaning in close to my ear, growling at me to keep moving if i knew what was good for me.

That's how i ended up sitting alone in a petite room at least 50 or so feet off the ground, but that was just a guess since the window i had looked out of may not be looking outside and instead showing me an optical illusion. I wouldn't put it past the man to do such a thing.

The room is dimly lit from the light provided by the window, just enough light to see everything and be able to move around without damaging any objects. The bed was an older type, the headrest made of wood painted white, it chipping at the edges. The mattress is covered by a dirty white, lacy, bed sheet, it not quite reaching the bottom of the bed exposing about 20 cm of the mattress.

The floor is completely wooden, little toothpick-like pieces sticking up every where, just waiting for a foot to step on them and give the poor person a splinter. A tall dark wooden dresser stands in the corner, next to the window. The door hanging slightly open exposing folded white materials.

A mirror hangs to the left of the bed, it's round frame reaching from about a foot above the floor to just above the center of the wall.

The last piece of furniture is a simple dresser, pieces of paper scattered all over it with messy writing scribbled on it, far too messy for someone such as myself to read. A bottle of ink and a feather pen lay in the top right corner, seeming to be used recently but not on the papers i could see.

Just then the door creaks open, snapping my attention to it, only no one stands behind it. The door continues to creak and move until it comes in contact with the wall, closing again slightly before resting back up against the wall. That's when a wail pierces the air.

My hands come up to my ears in an attempt to block out the sound, but that only seems to increase the volume. My current position of sitting criss-cross on the bed changes as i tumble over until my head thumps on the pillow, the screaming still going. I guess breathing wasn't an issue for the owner of the voice.

A deep chuckle fills the air, echoing slightly. The window bursts open, the wind howling as it rushes into the room sending the papers on the desk flying in all directions.

Lightening flashes outside as a loud clash of thunder soon follows, not a drop of rain falling from the sky. An owls call is faintly heard in all the chaos, another boom of thunder drowning it out for mere seconds.

I'm shaking constantly now, my bones feeling like jelly. Tears form in my eyes as the screams grow louder even, my hands glued to my ears. A shadow appears in the hallway, the figure not moving at all. A few seconds pass before the side of the shadow starts to move, an arm i assume. It moves upwards, holding something in it's hand.

When the object comes into view i suddenly find my voice as my screams join the others, mixing with the laughter and storm, the owl completely unheard.

A knife is held up by the figure, it's tip dripping a substance i know to be blood. Who's? I don't even think i want to know.

And then everything just stops, just as quickly as it had started. The screaming, the chuckling, the owl's calls, and the storm. My screams and the paper rustling, the wind also, all just... stops.

A creak of a floor board catches my sensitive ears, the shadow in the hallway still unmoving. The last thing i remember is a deep chuckle, and someone whispering the words

"There's no use in hiding... the cycle never ends... i've almost found you... you will soon be dead..."

And then, i let the darkness take over my body.