Bringing Amber Home

Chapter Ten

My night is almost dreamless, my mind drifting in and out of sleep as the pictures flash across my eyes and then disappear in an instant, never there long enough for me to make out a clear thought of what I'm seeing. It's so unusual. For the past few days since I've been here, it seems like the regular things that I'm used to are now becoming foreign and nonexistent. I haven't been cold since I took that shower and changed into fresh clothes. My dreams are now becoming less and less regular and my fear has been more calm. I don't know how to feel about any of it. It should be raising flags inside my head and letting me know that something's off or that something bad is about to happen. But it doesn't. If anything, it makes me feel okay. Like what little hope might have been buried inside me is clawing it's way out. I want it to be confirmed. I want to know for sure that the stars are finally lining up and that good luck is finally on my side for once. I know it's a long shot, but I want things to actually start looking up for me, that way I can finally crawl out of this cold dark hole I fell in the night of the storm. There are a lot of things I've been praying and wishing for lately but nothing I've been wanting as badly. I trust that Connor will get me out of here but there's been a little voice in my head that warns me that things could go the other way. The way I desperately want things to stay away from. I want to see my family again and I'll be damned if I give up on that goal, the promise, that I made to my family and to myself. I'm gonna keep pushing myself to believe that it'll happen.

I hear loud shouting coming from downstairs. I can only confirm that it's Connor's father doing all the screaming just by how loud and gravely his voice is, the voice that holds a long night of drinking on every word. The words are incoherent from up here in the room, my ears straining to make out at least one clear word but it's impossible. I get up from the bed and lean against the door, putting my ear against it and closing my eyes to focus on what's being said, or screamed through the house. I hear some struggling like someone is trying to walk away but is being prevented. I'm surprised that I can hear that over the screaming but somehow I do. I hear more frantic footsteps, then someone shouting back against the screaming that's already filling the house. Whoever's yelling back, they're barely heard by my ears. The yelling stops abruptly after a the slam of a door downstairs and everything becomes silent. My heart beats so hard that I feel like it's about to burst out of my chest at any minute. A few more words and yelled out but once again, I can't make out what's being said. Then I hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, fast and angry. I back away from the door and stumble back until the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed and I fall down onto the bed. My eyes tear up as Connor's father hurriedly unlocks the bedroom door and slams the door open. A loud boom! sounds from the door hitting the wall and he comes sauntering towards me, his face twisted into anger and fury. He doesn't say anything as he grabs my arm and drags me across the room and through the threshold.

"What are you doing with her?" Frank asks, waiting at the top of the stairs. He asks it like he's annoyed.

"Get out of my damn way!" Connor's father shouts so loud that it hurts my ears and makes my head pound again. His grip is so tight on my arm that my eyes strain to stay opened and I claw at his hand to loosen his grip. He drags me toward the stairs and doesn't wait until I find my footing before he starts making his way down. He jerks me up and my arm burns, threatening to be disconnected from it's socket. My legs and arms are hit against the stairs and railing and I swear I can feel the bruises start forming already. When we finally make it to the bottom, I'm thrown against the floor and I barely catch myself before my face hits the floor. A burning pain shoots across my scalp as my hair is gripped tightly and someone drags me across the floor into the kitchen. I scream and cry against the pain, clawing at the hands holding my hair and I kick and struggle to break free.

"Quite fighting or I'm gonna kill you myself right here and now!" Jon yells at me. His grip on my hair never loosens and my eyes burn with tears from the burning pain the runs through my entire body all starting at the top of my head. I continue to claw at his hands and he jerks me violently, my hair ripping out of my scalp and I scream in response. I'm dragged toward the back of the kitchen to another door and Jon kicks it open while trying to keep his grip on me. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up off the ground and starts to descend down the stairs that were cloaked in darkness. The basement. That's where he's taking me. I kick again at the air and fight to pry his arms away but his grip only tightens until it's so tight around my stomach that I have trouble breathing. He struggles to keep me in his arms as he takes each step at a time, cursing when I scratch his skin so hard that I can see blood starting to show on his skin from where my nails dug in. When we reach the bottom, Jon throws me down onto the ground and I collide with the cement, feeling like a wrecking ball just slammed into me. The air is knocked out of my lungs and I turn to lay on my back as I struggle to breathe. I hear Jon curse again and I see that he whips his hands on his shirt and pants to get the blood off. His blood. I see that he has scratches all along his hands and arms, some already letting out drops of wine colored substance. I want to smile at my accomplishment but the air still hasn't find its way to me.

Finally, I take in a huge breath of air and cough violently as it comes rushing back in at a thousand miles an hour. I roll over onto my stomach and continue coughing and heaving.

"I'll be so glad when you're gone you little bitch." Jon spits at me.

"Go to hell." I cough out, struggling to make my last words to him count. He stomps up the stairs and slams the door hard behind him before I hear a lock click. Once my breathing has returned to normal, I lift myself up off the ground and stand. I look around me at this new place of confinement. The walls are made of stone and the smell of water and earth fill the room. Other than a small cot against the wall behind me and a small window barely big enough for a small child to fit through, there's not much in here. The bathroom only has a small sink and toilet, both looking like they haven't been cleaned in months. I shiver in disgust. I wrap my arms around myself and sit down on the cot, the sheets brand new and out of place in this dark and dingy basement, barely any light. For the room to be made of rock, it's surprisingly warm. At least I won't freeze to death down here. I look in the corner and see that an old wooden burning stove glows orange from the little slats letting out the warm air. I highly doubt that anyone but Connor took it into consideration to change the sheets and light the fire, he must have known I was going to be thrown down here. But if that was true, then where was he? Was he out getting food or something? Was he somewhere in the house? Hadn't he heard all the screaming if he was? It didn't matter. He'd be here soon to help me get out. To help put an end to my hostage situation once and for all. And I'll be ready when it's time.