The Celebrity Copycat - A Heartthrob Tale

Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Mikayla laid on the floor crying her eyes out until there were no tears left. She was numb to the mess around her.

The click of the door opening snapped her back to reality. And she jumped up quickly realizing how much chaos she'd truly caused. She was going to be in trouble.

Her swollen eyes met Jackson's sharp gaze. He didn't look angry, just disappointed. He clicked his tongue and ran his fingers through his hair. Clearly that was a tick of his.

She quietly whispered, "I'm sorry."

But he was speechless. He walked over to her and grabbed her arm, then started dragging her out of the room.

"Please, I'm sorry." Her mouth was dry and she was short of breath.

They walked down the hall away from the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she cried. She was certain he was going to hurt her.

Jackson remained silent. He swiftly opened a door with a key from the cord in his pocket. He swung Mikayla around and pushed her into the room. She fell onto a mattress on the ground. He slammed the door closed, a sad look in his eyes.

She got up and went to the door. She started banging on it. "Please, don't do this! I'm sorry!"

Her voice cracked and she sunk to the ground, and cried. She heard him let out a deep sigh, followed by his heavy footsteps walking away.

Mikayla looked around her new surroundings. The room was very much like the other one she'd been trapped in, except for one major difference. In the corner was a bathtub, sink, and toilet. The floor around it was tile, while the rest of the room had wood floors and there were marks on the wall that indicated to her that the bathroom had once been a separate ensuite.

There was also one other peculiar feature. The door had a small flap at the bottom. It was clearly to slide trays of food through. She touched it and it didn't move. It was probably locked from the outside.

She stood up on shaking knees and took a drink of water directly from the sink. The aftertaste of the LA water clung to her mouth like a film.

She dried her face and quietly sat on the bed. She wondered how long he'd leave her in there. She tried to reassure herself that he just wanted to clean up and that it wouldn't be long.

The heavy sound of his footsteps settled her fear. A loud clicking noise rang out. But the door didn't open. Instead a styrofoam tray slid through the flap and the loud clicking happened again.

She wanted to plead with him, but she was tired. On the tray was a grilled cheese with tomato and a salad without tomatoes. There was also a paper cup filled with iced water.

She heard his heavy footsteps walking away and she knew that she was alone.

She knew there was no point starving herself. So she ate everything on the tray and downed the water. When she was done eating she looked at the plastic fork. The plastic was too weak to puncture skin. But maybe it could be of use. She broke off two prongs and sat in front of the lock. She tried to stick the plastic in but it wouldn't even fit.

So much for picking the lock.

She laid back on the mattress and pulled the blanket over her. Before she knew it she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up she was in a stupor. The lack of windows and the lights that had no way to turn off left her confused. Was it night? Day?

She paced around for a bit and eventually fell back to sleep. Her mind was reeling. She lost track of time.

She got three trays, some clean clothes, a towel, lots of sleep. Another three trays. That meant two days. Every time she heard his footsteps she begged to leave the room.

Three more trays along another day. Her mind was her worst enemy. What if he was planning on killing her? Maybe that's why he'd abandoned her.

He was leaving her here alone. It was miserable.

She felt like she was going insane. Her mind came up with all these wild scenarios. And she couldn't even describe them all.

Another three trays another day. She was banging on the door begging him to come inside and discuss things.

She couldn't focus on anything but sleep. She understood why solitary confinement was such torture.

The next morning . . . well she assumed it was morning . . . his footsteps woke her. She couldn't think.

As he opened the slot she stayed on the bed.

"Please, don't go. I miss you." She didn't miss him. She just couldn't stand being alone and trapped in her own mind. "I want to see you."

He closed the flap with a click and she heard some soft jingling. Then the door swung open.

She never thought she'd be so excited to see another soul.

She sat up and looked at him. He was holding a tray. Had he always looked like that?

"I'm really sorry," whispered Mikayla.

"You disappointed me," said Jackson. "I didn't do anything to hurt you." His voice was booming. Why was he so loud?

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I'd be willing to forgive you, but if you do anything like that again you'll be back here."

She knew what he was doing. Isolation was a form of punishment and she abhorred it.

"I'll be good," she whispered.

"Speak up."

"I'll be good," she said louder. Her own voice sounded foreign.

"Come with me," he said.

Mikayla stood up and followed him. She felt like he was testing her. He went to the bedroom and she went with him. He smiled at her and closed the door.

"Go sit on the bed and you can eat your food."

She quietly obeyed. It made her feel wrong and dirty. She knew it was what he wanted. She didn't care. Anything was better than being in that room with nothing.

But she knew now that nothing would ever be the same.