The Illusion

One

One. Two. Three. Creak. Turn. Pace. Count. I've lost track of how many times I've walked this same path now. The heavy metal making it a lot harder to move but I had to. I couldn't just sit there. I can't just sit still. Someone's going to come for me. I don't know who. I don't even know how I got here. Or where here is. I need to remember everything. Every sliver of details needs to be burned into my head so I can tell the police when I get out. God the therapy bills for this are going to be through the roof. There's no way you come out of something like this sane.

One. Two. Three. Creak. One. Two. Creak.

No.

I brought my feet to a stop. New. That's a new creak.

A cough.

Not mine.

Someone's there.

Quiet Freya. Away from the door, don't piss them off. You really don't need another beating. You can see today. The swelling is going down.

I backed up towards the back of the room. Lit only with one window by the ceiling, at least 8 foot off the floor. That window has been my only proof that time is indeed passing. I've lost count of how long it's been now. There has been mutters behind the door a few times a day. Never clear enough for me to hear what they're saying but enough to know I'm not deaf. The door only ever opens for 2 reasons. Food. Which is usually cold left overs and nowhere near enough but, it's food. Water is brought with it. In a plastic cup like I'm a toddler. 20 minutes later they come in and make sure all cutlery is accounted for before leaving without a word.

The first day, I didn't eat. That was the first beating. Until I couldn't breathe on the floor and even know it's still sore. Probably some damage to my ribs with all the kicking. Heavy boots. Steel over the toes. Matte black with no scuffs on them. I only recognise the figure as men from their size. I'm never able to see their faces as they wear masks. They don't speak so there's no voice to recognise. It's just their size. That's all I can take note of. Compared to me, compared to how tall I know the boys are.

My fingers fumbled with the lowest hem of the grimy dress I was still wearing. I loved this dress. Floaty and light weight, the bows at my shoulders, the little layers of it. It was the perfect dress for the beach day I'd had with Alara. I don't remember a lot from that night. I was trying to continuously replay it, looking for a reason this is happening. Maybe I bumped into the wrong person in the supermarket without realizing it. Or they were just looking to cause trouble and get some money.

9pm. Driving down the back lane because it's the quickest way home. Alara lives 10 minutes away. It's not a big deal. I've done it dozens of times before dad. No, don't send Milo. I'll be fine. I'm leaving now, I'll be home soon. I got in the car. I put on the radio. I started driving. Not even a full song and I noticed the other car tailing me. Too close. Too close. Pushing me off the road. Lock the doors. Windows smashed. Guns. Stop screaming. I stopped. Blindfold. Rough hands. Into the back of another car. Hands tied. Feet tied. Something over my nose and mouth. Nothing.

Metal scratched, sending a shriek down my spine. I stood quietly, not moving as the door opened all the way. New. Oh no. New. Not good. Can't be good. Chair. Man points. I move and sit. I'm obeying. I'm not causing trouble. I don't want to cause trouble I'm not going to do anything. I can't do anything. My hands are tugged behind the chair, tied tightly, same with my feet. Rough. Not gentle rope. Like sandpaper. Don't move too much Freya. These are going to bruise as it is you don't want to cut and then scar. Just stay still. Don't aggravate them. He left. No words. Just left. Door closed but not locked. Footsteps were a lot clearer now. Slow. The click of the persons shoes against what I was starting to think was more stone tiles than the polished laminate in this cell.

It was a man walking. The clicks weren't as small as a woman's heels. They were deeper. Like they had more base behind the shoe. More surface area hitting into the floor as it carried them down. Easy Freya. Slow breathes. Don't panic. The police will find you. You're dad owns so many big businesses, your sudden disappearance will be everywhere. It won't be getting ignored. Dad won't let it. You're fine.

Footsteps getting closer. Almost at the door. Stop. Talking. Muttering. Door opening. I looked down at the floor, not sure if meeting the eyes of this man was the best idea.

Dress shoes. Fancy and polished, suit pants with a pristine white shirt pushed into them. Muscular but not like the guys who have been dealing with me so far.

"What? Can't even look at me now Freya?" My stomach twisted in knots, my eyes moving a little too quick and my brain struggling to catch up. He was handed a chair and the door closed. Zane sitting down across from me. He sat back in the chair, pulling one ankle up onto his knee. Plain face, void of any emotion. His brown eyes dark. Eyes I'd been stood so close to just weeks ago. Arms that were holding me in a loving embrace, were now pushing through his hair as he sighed. He shook his head, lips pulling up into a psychotic smile. "You always did look good tied up baby."

"Zane?" I shuffled. "Zane what the hell? Is this another prank? Because I really don't find this one funny." He chuckled, sitting up as he sucked air in between his perfect teeth.

"I wish I could say it was a prank. But desperate times call for desperate measures."

"What do you mean desperate-" I sighed. Calm Freya. Getting mad at him isn't going to solve anything. "Why am I here Zane? Why am I tied to a chair with what I have no doubt is a black eye and a few broken ribs. I'm not even going to talk about the other bruises or how sore my throat is from being pinned against the wall."

"Yeah, the guys can get a little hands on when they need to. Don't worry. It won't stop." He shifted, sitting forward until his elbows rested on his knees. "This would have been so much easier Freya if you'd have just played along and stayed with me. I'd have gotten the information I needed and you'd be upstairs completely unharmed and safe. But no. You decided to end it. You decided to complicate everything and I'm tired of waiting for your family to half arse finding you. So, I've come to get the information from the source."

"What information? Zane. What are you talking about?" His hand moved behind him, pulling out a knife I'd seen dozens of times before in his collection. Matte black with a marble white viper curled at the top of the handle, looking like it was biting at the blade. Zane examined it, tilting it in the minimal light before he sighed, lifting the bottom of my dress until both my thighs were on full display. "Z-"

"3 months Freya. For 3 months, not for a second have I believed you have no idea what your dad and brothers are doing behind closed doors." His fingers slowly glide over my skin. I have no idea what he's talking about. Dad owns 3 casinos and a few wholesalers around the country. He's forever travelling to set up new buyers and sales. What do es he mean behind closed doors? "So, before I have to ruin your perfect skin Freya, I really suggest you tell me what's going on baby."