Shattered

Chapter 4

The next time I awoke, the room was bright and fully visible. The wall to my right was entirely covered in glass, tall buildings and blue skies behind it. The floor was a tan, almost beige wood, and the walls were painted white.

A TV was mounted on the wall in front of me, either sides of the block held an opening, no door guarding the frame. To the left of the bed sat the damn glass coffee table, surrounded by two dark grey canvas chairs, along with a white rug beneath it. A large bookshelf filled with numerous works of literature stood against the far wall, waiting to be read.

Since I was no longer handcuffed, I slowly crept off the white linen sheets, stepping away from the empty wooden bed. I proceeded through the walkway to the right of the TV and down a hallway, entering an excessively large closet to my left. Shelves upon shelves covered the interior, only a simple glass table holding a stray candle sat in the middle.

On the left side, many suits hung neatly, each already ironed. Another shelf held casual clothes, the drawers beneath carrying socks, underwear, and sweatpants. The drawer under the suits held ties and belts, every aspect was immaculate. The third and final shelf on the left was covered by men's shoes of all kinds.

The right side of the closet captured the same layout, except it was empty, awaiting the arrival of someone else. Me. An eerie thought that he had been preparing to kidnap me for a while popped into my head. 

Gently shutting the large wooden door to the closet, I then walked around to the other opening beside the TV. Again to the left was a door, this time painted white and much smaller. Twisting the knob, it revealed a bathroom larger than my bedroom back home.

The room was square, with a small door guarding the toilet. To the far left was a glass shower, big enough to fit at least eight people comfortably. A white bathtub remained to the right, also quite inordinate. On the right was a double sink with plenty of counter space in between. A mirror hung over it, presenting my disturbing reflection.

My hair was a tangled mess in dire need of brushing, and my makeup had smudged, giving me raccoon eyes. A dark shadowy bruise marked my dreadful fall on the stairs, covering my whole right cheekbone.

Searching through the drawers for any kind of face soap, I once again found the right half empty, awaiting feminine products. My heart clenched. He really has been planning this.

Clearing my pessimistic thoughts, I ended up using hand soap to wash my face instead. After a thorough scrubbing, I had removed most of the makeup, at least enough to not be noticeable.

At that moment, it finally dawned on me that someone had changed my clothes, most likely Chandler. My bra seemingly disappeared, only the white shirt and my black panties beneath. Without a doubt the top belonged to Chandler, I'm sure it would have fit better and not covered half my thighs if it was meant for a woman.

Sitting on one of the canvas chairs, I was passing time by reading a book from the shelf. Suddenly, I heard laughter. Waiting a moment, I made sure my mind wasn't playing games. The sound erupted again, causing me to quickly stand.

Pressing my ear to the door, I strained to hear the conversation between three individuals. One was Chandler, another man, and a woman. They seemed to be somewhere across the door. Without thinking, I began to loudly scream and bang on the wood, praying they'd hear my cries for help.

Their conversation seemed to halt at my screams, but they exchanged a few inaudible sentences before quieting again. The lock on the door turned, pushing me away as it opened.

Chandler entered, a frown striking his face. My cries faltered, stopping at his angry expression. Backing away, I didn't get far before he roughly grabbed my forearm, shoving me against the door. "Screaming won't help you." He stated darkly.

 "But they heard me. Why aren't they doing anything?" I asked myself more than him. "What did you tell them?!" Demanding, I snapped my eyes to his. His frown evolved into an evil smirk. "It doesn't matter what I tell them, they'll believe anything I say." His left hand slowly caressed the purple bruise, stroking back and forth.

"Why? Why can't you just let me go?" Mumbling, I stared at the ground, ignoring his fingers against my skin. "We can discuss that later. I have to go continue the meeting you just rudely interrupted." His index finger wandered below my chin, lifting until my eyes met his.

Unexpectedly, he bent forward and pressed his lips against mine, gently kissing me. The action caught me off guard, not giving me enough time to react.

He didn't kiss me for long, pulling away after a few seconds. "If I hear another sound from you I will kill both of them." He whispered in my ear before leaving the room, locking the door behind him.

I stood in that exact spot for countless minutes before sitting back in the chair. I opened the book once again but only stared at the pages.

 I wasn't a virgin, I had a previous boyfriend of two years, but I had never been forcefully kissed. What the hell did he want from me? Was I here for his entertainment? To rape and take advantage of? I won't stand idly by and let him. Yes, I've had sex before, with one other man, and I had my fair share of dates, but no one would force me to do anything.

Never.