Drapetomania | Creepypasta

13.

Ben glanced at his phone, a hint of urgency in his eyes as he stood up. "I need to go, Y/n," he said, a sense of responsibility driving him. He took a rope and began to wrap it around his own hands, a clear indication that our time together was coming to an end.

I couldn't help but plead with him, the pain in my legs and the thought of being confined to that uncomfortable chair again too much to bear. "My legs are in agony... Please, Ben," I begged, desperation in my voice as I looked up at him.

He sighed, his face filled with a mixture of guilt and sorrow as he leaned down to meet my eyes. "It's all temporary, my love... Please," he pleaded in return, helping me up and gently guiding me back into the chair. Reluctantly, he began to tie my ankles together once more, our hearts heavy with the knowledge that we were about to be separated once again.

With a tender touch, Ben placed a small, affectionate kiss on my hand. His eyes held a promise as he whispered softly, "I'll be back soon enough." Those words offered a glimmer of hope, a reminder that our time apart would be temporary, and we would find our way back to each other.

-

he lied.

he never came back.

The passage of time had become a blur in that dimly lit room. I felt my strength waning, my stomach protesting its emptiness with a persistent churn. In the absence of any human interaction, I found myself resorting to strange rituals just to maintain some semblance of sanity.

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek to keep myself company, a habit born out of sheer desperation. I spoke to myself, the sound of my own voice offering a thin thread of connection to the outside world. I even played a makeshift game of "I Spy" with the meager objects scattered around the room, as if they could provide some entertainment or distraction from the grim reality of my captivity.

Each passing moment felt like an eternity, and I clung to the hope that Ben would return soon, bringing with him the promise of freedom and a return to a semblance of normalcy.

I had grown accustomed to the cold stone floor and the uncomfortable chair, the restraints on my ankles a constant reminder of my confinement. My stomach continued to protest, but there was nothing to feed it but my own resilience.

In the solitude of that room, I delved into the depths of my mind. I replayed memories, imagined a future beyond these walls, and clung to the notion that one day, I would escape this nightmare. Ben's sporadic visits were my only lifeline to the outside world, and each time he arrived, I greeted him with a mix of relief and trepidation.

Our conversations had evolved over time, shifting from the mundane to deeper reflections on life and our shared desire for a future beyond this ordeal. Ben's visits became a fleeting taste of normalcy, a glimmer of hope in the suffocating darkness of my captivity.

The isolation and the monotony of my confinement began to play tricks on my mind. Shadows danced on the walls, and eerie whispers echoed in the silence, taunting my already frayed sanity. I yearned for any form of human contact, even if it meant facing my captors.

There were moments when I thought I heard the door creak open, followed by the heavy thud of it closing shut, but when I strained my senses to see or hear more, there was nothing. It was as if the cellar itself was conspiring to drive me to the brink of madness.