Stalker

Captured

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*Shayla POV*

I awoke in a cold dark room I knew wasn't mine. There wasn't any light, so no windows. It took me a minute to remember what happened. Jacob attacked me and he must have taken me here, where ever here was.

I was to afraid to move, I didn't know if I was alone or it he was here. I laid still on what felt like an old worn out bed mattress. I laid there with my heart beating hard until my eyes adjusted. Then could I look around; there was no one here with me. I noticed a large box shape beside the bed, on top was an outline of a lamp. I tried to sit up but my body felt so weak. It took me three heaves but finally I manged to slowly sit up. I was close to breaking a sweat.

What did Jacob do to me?

I took deep breaths, coaching my self to lift my arm and reach for the lamp. Even in the dark I could see my arm shaking to stay up long enough to find the lamp switch. My hand somehow hit the switch as it feel from exhaustion. I didn't expect my arm to fall so suddenly, so hard, and I was already leaning off the side of the bed. The dead weight of my arm falling brought me down off the bed with it.  There was a flash of light as I felt my head hitting the box shaped dresser. Somehow my head hit the ground before my body.

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I opened my eyes, only to close them and cringe from the light. I noticed I was once again laying on worn out cushion. My heart jumped and my eyes popped open in realization. Someone put me back on the bed, Jacob came back. I looked over, my head landed on my arm instead on top of my shoulder. I tried to pull my arm down to discover I couldn't. I looked up frowning, my wrist was tied to the bed post. I pulled at the rope in fright without any budge. Quickly  I whipped my head to the other side, my other arm was free.

I glanced around the room. I gasped in confusion at what I was seeing. There were pictures every where, most of them--, no, all of them had me in them. I sat up no longer weak just in shock. My mouth hung open as I stared at just one of the many pictures.

"Do you like them?" A quiet voice startled me, but it wasn't enough to make me look away from the picture. I already knew who asked me. Finally I looked towards him, he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. My mouth was still hanging open, but now with disgust.

"How did you get that picture?" My voice was shaking, I hated it. 

"Which one?" He stood up walking closer to me. I looked away long enough to point to the picture then back at him in cation. He continued walking towards me, at the foot of the bed he looked at my out stretched hand pointing. A slow smile spread across his face. 

"That's my favorite one. Did you noticed that one first?" He looked back at me still smiling. The smile dropped once he saw my repulsed expression. The picture was of me sitting in my living room. What made the picture different was he was in my house. I could see him in a mirror on the wall across from me.  He was holding a camera crouching down by the kitchen table. 

Why didn't I notice him?

"Your a creep." I whispered in fear. Finally everything was making sense, he was obsessed with me.

"What? No, no I'm not," He whisper back in disbelief. "Your supposed to love it, your suppose to be smiling." He smiled at me desperately trying to get me to smile back. I just stared at him slowly shaking my head,

"You need to let me leave and you need to get help Jacob." I was starting to cry. This was all my fault. How did I let my self fall for this? He gave me a blank stare

"I can't let you leave."

"Why?" I asked raising my voice. My tears were flowing freely.

"It's too late. I worked so hard to get you here. I worked too hard to get us together.  I didn't do all this just for you to reject me!" His voice was slowly raising with anger. 

"I don't want you!" I screamed back at him.

It was the wrong thing to say.

He jumped onto the bed and lunged for me. I screamed and kicked in fear of what he was going to do to me. He straddled my hips forcing my squirming to stop. He wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed. Instantly I begin seeing colors in my vision. With my free hand I tried to stop him, I smacked, scratched, and punched aimlessly as hard as I could. It wasn't enough he wouldn't stop.

No matter how hard I kicked the bed or hit him, it was like I wasn't doing anything at all. My chest burned, my throat hurt and my vision was starting to fade. The feeling was familiar, I was loosing consciousness. My struggle weakened and my eyes closed though I fought to keep them open. I had one last thought as I passed out making one last weak kick. 

I don't want to die.