I Was A Runaway

chapter eight

     I fall asleep on the floor where he threw me. A few hours and i still have no plan. Earl hasn't come down with food yet, but I heard them wrestling around a bit last night. The only upgrade from the attic I can say is that I'm not tied up. I am free to roam the basement, but still feel caged in. I hope somebody knows I'm gone by now. I don't want to go back home, but I would gladly take that over this. I think about all the times alex and i got along, how we used to walk to school together, teamed up to make dinner, really anything before Robert showed up. I though for a while, not moving from the wall, until I heard the floor above me groaning. Someone is walking around the kitchen, probably making food, and hopefully bringing me some. I give up on not eating. I need all the help I can get if I want to escape. I wait, listening closely to the sound of sizzling bacon, as the smell makes it's way through the wall. I don't eat meat, but the smell is heavenly. The steady increase of temperature let's me assume the oven is running as well. I sigh, hoping for biscuits. My mother used to make them all the time, they were my favorite. Sure enough, the buttery fragrance mixes with the bacon, and my stomach screams from inside me. The sizzling stops but still, no one has come down. A few more minutes pass, nothing. I hear the television flipping through channels, finally coming to a stop on some sport. I wait, nothing. The show moves to commercial and the floor creaks again. I hear the dishes in the sink, the water whistling lightly in the cups. I can't take it. I build up the courage to head up the steps, my joints popping every few steps, and knock on the door. The water stops and the door opens, revealing the large man from last night. His dark hair going every which  way and his bottom half dressed in sweats. "...im hungry" I speak, just above a whisper, keeping my head down low. I get no response, but the door starts to slam. I quickly put my foot in, instantly regretting it with the pain shooting up my leg. "...please...i-im really hungry." He laughs and opens the door, blocking the exit. "From what I hear, you won't eat what we give you. Why has that changed? 'I'm a vegetarian'" he mocks me in a high voice. "You're a spoiled brat. No wonder Earl was able to get you here. You fucking light weight." I laugh internally. If only he knew. I look up for the first time since last night. He has at least four inches on me, and a much bigger build. He glares down at me, if looks could kill. His eyes empty and a scowl set on his face, he rolls his eyes and grabs my hair. He walks with big strides, dragging me behind him, to the kitchen. He throws me down into a chair and pulls his belt off with one hand, the other holding me down. Shit shit shit. Dumbass. Just had to make him angry. He wraps the belt tightly around my waist and left arm. He yanks on my arm a bit, assuring it won't come loose (unlike my shoulder). I get a quick look around before he throws a plate with two pieces of bacon and a biscuit before leaving the room. I quickly devour the buttery goodness and poke at the bacon. I need to eat what I can to keep myself healthy, but can't bring myself to eat it. I run my fingers together, taking in how much grease came off the meat. The man comes back, fully dresses in a navy blue, long sleeve shirt, and dark jeans being held up by another belt. Sewn in cursive onto the pocket was a name. Damien. So I've been taken by a 'neat freak' and a mechanic. Fun! Now that he is ready for the day, he doesnt look as old, maybe late twenties, early thirties. He cleans up well. His hair combed back neatly, revealing his high hair line, and his face washed. He's got a rounded face and strong nose, above his lip is a light mustache. He gives me a small bag of left-over biscuits and throws me back downstairs. I wait at the door, sitting on the top step. I hear a door slam before a car roars down the road.