When a Vampire Slayer gets Desperate

Chapter 4: Ah, Basement Prisons. Don't you love 'em?

She was alone. All alone. In the dark. Great.

Her eyes searched frantically for a door, a window, something which would indicate an exit. Panic was building up inside her. Her breath became short and quick. A cold sweat broke out on her brow. She hated tight spaces with no way of getting out of them. And she hated the dark. She wasn't scared of it, just... uneasy about it.

And then she saw him.

He was a man somewhere in his mid-thirties or so, his dark brown hair cut short and his piercing blue eyes focused on something invisible. It couldn't be him. Yet it was. She was absolutely sure of it.

"Dad!" Heather yelled, her voice full of joyfully sad emotion.

The man turned towards her. It looked as though he was having a hard time focusing on her because his face was strained with concentration. He was a strongly built man, yet he was a little short. You could tell he was a gymnast, yet he looked like a swimmer, too. Overall, though, he looked like a father. A man who cared deeply about his daughter.

Finally, he said, "Heather? Heather, baby, is that you?"

"Yes!" She practically screamed at him. "Yes, Dad, it's me! It's Heather."

Th man's face lit up with joy but then the shadow of doubt clouded his features again.

"Where are you? I can't see you." He began to wander away from Heather, his feet dragging with uncertainty.

"No, Dad! I'm over here! Dad!"

"Heather.... Heather, where are you?..." He kept going, walking further and further away from her.

"Dad! Please don't leave me again!" Hot tears were streaming down her face, but her feet were cemented to ground. "Please! I love you!"

"Heather... Heather..." His body seemed to disappear into the darkness, yet his voice kept getting louder and louder, till it surrounded her from every direction.

"Heather....Heather!.... HEATHER!!!"

Her head snapped up and her fists made contact with whatever had been sitting closest to her. Her face was wet. Her head hurt. But she was awake. 'It was only a dream.' She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Owww..."

She swiveled around and raised her hands again, preparing for another swing.

"Don't hit me! I'm sorry! I'm not here to hurt you." The voice was oddly familiar, almost as familiar as the face. Long black hair. Sharp (now bleeding) nose. And green eyes. Bright green eyes.

It was the waiter boy from the motel.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She wiped away the tears. Where was that Kyle jerk? She did a 360 of her surroundings, only to find something she didn't expect at all. "Moreover, what am I doing here?"

It was like something you would see in one of those movies where the innocent victim gets trapped in the kidnapper's basement. Except the basement was from the 1600s. The dark gray stone walls were lined with cracks and mildew. The torches which hung from them cast ominous, flickering shadows across the room, shielding the corners with darkness. The room was about forty five feet by forty five feet. There were no windows but there was a door. Unfortunately, it looked to be made of solid iron and was shaped like a bank vault door. No easy way of escape, it appeared.

"I was..... you were in that... he tried to..." The boy stuttered with his words. You could tell he had been under a lot of pressure recently. Dark half circles shadowed his unusual irises. His hair was messy, uncombed, and looked like it hadn't been washed in days. His clothes, which were now jeans and a sweatshirt instead of the apron and hotel uniform, were slightly ripped and covered in dirt. She almost felt pity towards him. Almost.