Taken

Memories

The picture is of Issa played by Carly Rae Jepsen

This is my first short story on Wattpad, there will only be between 3-5 parts :(

DEDICATED TO XxDinkyxX BECAUSE I LOVE HER BOOKS AND THEIR A-M-A-Z-A-I-N-G! ;D

Taken

A Short Story

Memories

Day 782

The same dingy, dim, bare light bulb hung carelessly from the dirty, white tiled ceiling. Swinging back and forth... as if to hypnotise me.

Day 783

The same grime-filled, off-white tiled walls and floor stared back at me. Unforgiving.

Day 784

The same dirt-covered steel chains circled my ankles. They rubbed constantly, ripping my thin, pale flesh, causing a small drop of crimson to trail down my bony foot. Almost like a caress...

I cringed at the thought.

Day 785

I woke up, startled, the same nightmare reoccurring, making its way into every 'dream' I was suppose to have, blacking out my consciousness;

"Bye Issa! See you tomorrow!" My best bubbly friend Rose called out towards me, giggling as she did so, "Bye Rose!"

I waited on the step outside of her one bedroom apartment as she waved at me, slowly closing the thin mahogany door of her house. I let out a sigh; watching the breath of mist float around gracefully under the glaring porch lights. Pulling my red woollen coat tighter around my pale goose bumped shoulders, I made my way away from the slight comfort I had of my friends property and into the swirling, unknown darkness of this Saturday night.

The rest of my unnerving ten minute walk home was a blur, really. Garish, bright yellow scattered streetlights pierced the ebony outside world, like a lonely, bright red buoy in the middle of the Pacific ocean. My wooden-based leather brown boots tapped against the dull, grey pavement with a rhythm, like the 'tick, tick, tick' of a wall clock. It shattered the silence of the late night, on repeat like a broken record.

'Ever get that feeling that someone is watching you? I did. I do. It gave me a sense of unease and uncomfortable anxiousness. I shoot my head determinately, as if to shake the nervousness out of my mind as I approached my own apartment. A small creak escaped the old wooden steps leading up to the awaiting white door, my keys jangled metallically in my left baggy pocket of my scarlet coat, echoing loudly in the silence of the empty street, I grabbed them and tried to force them roughly into the all-to-small keyhole and groaned when they landed with a sharp 'bang' on the splintering wood. I reached down to retrieve the unmoving keys, a small 'snap' of a dry stick sounded to my right, it startled me and forced me to a sudden stop.

I looked around: nothing.

 'Come on Issa, stop being stupid; it’s all in your head' I convinced myself, quickly snatching the silver keys from the ground and standing up to face the familiar white door. Holding the single fount door key in one hand and clutching the plastic door handle in the other, I squeezed these objects so tight that my knuckles turned white from hurrying to get inside my comforting home. But to my despair, another, louder 'snap' sounded from behind me.

Eyes widening in shock, I hurried faster, if it were possible, mumbling loudly as I desperately fumbled with both the key and keyhole. My breathing became laboured and my hand shook from the sheer terror running through my veins.

'Come on, come on, come on!' I said to myself loudly, failing to hear the clad sound of work-boot footsteps coming towards me, closer and closer.

I gave out a small, sudden, muffled scream when two large hands enveloped my face and a dirty, used cloth, reeking with alcohol, covered my mouth and nose. This man was to strong and hardly budged when I kicked and my arms thrashed about wildly: a useless wannabe-escape. I could feel my brain become drowsy from the alcohol I was accidently inhaling and my limbs became heavy and dangled lifelessly from my torso. My mouth let out one last cry before I blacked out.