On My Own

Unraveling

The stretch of time that was laid out between my captors random visits were the hardest. I didn't know what they were doing or what they were planning. I kept getting flashes of old memories, things that I'd seen before but hadn't ever been able to place.

A melody, that I knew now Victor had composed, frequented my brain. I found myself wishing that I was like Kota and had a counting obsession so I'd know exactly how long I'd been held here, and then I would wonder how I even knew that's something he did.

Every now and then my baby would move around, reminding me so effortlessly that I wasn't alone, that I needed to get out. If not for myself than the innocent life I carried.

Most of my time, however, was spent trying to recall who it was that had taken me, for the second time in my life. I knew that somewhere, deep inside I should know. But putting faces and names together, much less making sense of anything else, was harder than I'd ever imagined.

My memory was slowly returning, but not in a comprehensible fashion.

My captors had taken off my bindings, and as I tried to study them I was slowly retaining information. All those days binge watching Criminal Minds on Netflix were starting to pay off. I could tell that my dynamic duo kidnappers were of the psychopathic and sociopathic variety.

They argued a lot. The boy who'd been angry over my sleep-talking, was definitely the psychopath. The other didn't come in my room very often, but I knew that they were a sociopath by the way they offered up possible solutions for me needing to use the bathroom or to eat. Which were a bucket and a random meal when Socio thought I was being good enough.

There was only one reason I was still alive, and that was because they both had different agendas were it involved me. They didn't say it out loud, but the Socio wanted me to suffer, and Psycho wanted me for himself. I just wasn't sure what their endgame was.

The lights hummed softly before clicking on, and I turned my face towards the speaker box. It stayed silent. After a few seconds, the door clicked and swung open. One of my captors stood at my door. They held up a finger and curled it towards themselves.

I paused. They hadn't ever beckoned me out of my room before. The person shifted slightly, and I knew my failure to jump up and follow them had irritated them. My lip twitched up slightly, and I tilted my head innocently.

"I don't understand."

There was a breath of frustration, and then the person, motioned with his whole hand for me to come. I internally smiled, happy on some level that I was not dealing with the Socio today. But that meant I was dealing with the Psycho. I'd learned through trial and error that while some twisted part of his brain thought that he was in love with me, he hated my baby and the DNA it was made from.

The Socio was still a mystery, with the prime intent being to make me suffer. They hadn't shown themselves much lately, and it concerned me. With the two being paired together my worries began to form into actual theories, and I knew what they had probably agreed upon.

The one thing that neither of them cared for, that they both thought was disposable, that they both would be satisfied eliminating.

My baby.

This thought never ceased to make me want to slit their legs open, missing all major blood lines and just watching as they bled out. They deserved nothing short of unimaginable pain for just the thought of harming my child.

I stood up and pressed my finger tips to my thighs. Instinctively I wanted to hold my belly, but I knew it would only enrage Psycho.

"Where are we going?"