two

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Troye woke up again a while after. This time the bag was removed and he could look around a bit, though he noticed that moving his head too much made him nauseous. He also noticed that his arms were tied together behind his back.

Carefully, Troye tried to take in his surroundings. He sat somewhere in a room on a big leathery couch. It seemed like some sort of VIP lounge room, guessing from the times he had been in one himself. There was a table in front of him with a few magazines carefully laid down and a vase with flowers. There were no windows. He did see a sign on the wall with 'Free Wi-Fi' on it, and thought about taking his phone somehow to text for help, but his hope soon evaporated as he noticed that whoever had left him here had also taken his coat and scarf. His phone was probably somewhere in the bin by now.

Troye groaned and let his head fall back against the wall, though he could've better not done that. Another wave of nausea hit him. God, if only someone would come and give me a drink or something, that'd be nice.

As if on cue someone entered the room through a door Troye had first not noticed. He gave the man a once over, then realized he should probably pay more attention to his looks in order to help the police later, and took the guy's details in more carefully. If I ever get the chance to talk to the police ever again that is, he thought. Ignoring his own mind he brought his attention back to the guy in front of him, now noticing the glass of water he had in his hands.

Who is he and what role does he have in all of this?

Where am I?

Where are they taking me?

Will he hurt me if I try to run through that door right now?

"Figured you'd be thirsty by now," the guy said in a deep voice, unaware of the war raging on in Troye's head. Troye nodded his head thankfully. The guy took a step forward in his converse so he could set the glass at Troye's lips, and as Troye was drinking he carefully studied the guy's face.

It was a kind face, beautiful hazel eyes. The guy was wearing a grey beanie but Troye could still see some dark brown hair peeking underneath it.

"Thank you," Troye said after he drank all of it. The guy nodded, then raised his hand and threw the glass on the floor. Hard.

"Oops," he said with a smirk. "Couldn't really leave fingerprints, now can we?"

Troye said nothing as he just looked at him in shock. "You just.. Why, you, did you.." he sputtered. The other guy ignored Troye and walked out. As Troye tried to follow him with his gaze he felt his eyes go drowsy, and a thought crossed his mind. He drugged me. Soon after that, everything went black again.

stockholm syndrome - tracobWhere stories live. Discover now