Captive To Captivated

Part 6

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Trigger warning: this chapter contains physical abuse. 

Carmella

My eyes fluttered open and I squinted through the dark. I blinked several times, uncertain if I had gone blind or if it was actually pitch black. I tried getting up on the mattress that my body was sunken into when I felt my wrists being restrained above my head by something itchy. Searching through the dark towards my hands, I realised they were tied to the frame of the headboard by what felt like thick, burning rope. Suddenly the events from before flashed through my head and anxiety filled my body. I wasn't at home. This wasn't my bed. My chest tightened making it harder for me to breathe. This wasn't happening.

I looked around frantically, praying for my eyes to adjust to the darkness so I could see where I was. I wriggled my hands around hoping the ropes around my wrists would loosen just the slightest. I pulled and pulled trying to squeeze out, but it only felt like they got tighter. The itchy material burned unpleasantly against my skin forcing me to stop. 

I pulled myself up into a sitting position, ignoring the aching from my bruised arm, and figured I was in a room. A very cold room. Concealed within the four walls was nothing but the bed frame with the mattress and me tied to it. No sheets, no pillow. Nothing.

I noticed to my left was a door, adjacent to the wall which the bed was against. There was a thin almost invisible line of light under it evidently coming from outside the room. Opposite the door was a window, covered by curtains, blocking either a streetlamp or the moonlight from coming in. 

My first instinct was to scream − call out for somebody to help me. But I immediately stopped myself. What if my two captors heard me? What if there were more than just two of them here? I was torn. I wanted to call for help, but I didn't need them barging in to shut me up.

I had to get to that window.

I attempted to relax my breathing but my mind was all over the place and I could do nothing but panic and over think. I needed to know where I was. I needed to know what was happening. How far from home I was. How to get to that window. What the time was. What day it was. How long was I out for? How to get to that window. Had they done anything to me while I was unconscious? What were they planning on doing with me? When was I going to get out of here? When was I going to get to that window? Were they going to let me go? Were they going to kill me? I was supposed to go to work, what did they think when I didn't show up? Did dad realise I hadn't come home? Did anyone care that I was missing? Was anyone even looking for me?

The uncertainty of it all overwhelmed me. It wasn't until I broke out into a sob that I realised there were tears dripping down my face. I shut my eyes and let them fall. I was going at it for only a few minutes when suddenly the door knob rattled and clicked, causing my heart to thud. As the door pushed open my head shot up and a shadow of a slim, muscular man stood in the frame. The light behind him illuminated his figure as if he were some sort of saint. But that wasn't the vibe I got when he stepped inside and spoke darkly, "'bout time you got up."

Instantly I recognized his livid voice. It was the guy who put a gun to my head and dragged me into the back of his van. 'Ernie' as he liked to call himself. I quickly wiped my tears away with my shoulder hoping he hadn't seen me cry. Sitting in such a feeble position with my hands tied, I felt so helpless, but tried my best to compose myself and appear brave. He didn't need to know how scared I was. 

"W-Where am I?" I stuttered adamantly, instantly failing to hide away my vulnerability.

"Well I wouldn't be very smart if I told our hostage where we were, would I?" his voice bounced across the dark room that was barely lit up from the light outside.