"So, how did you get to the location, without Harry knowing."
"I couldn't sleep that night, no matter how much I tried to wash away the thought of that note or what had happened to me. I guess you could say I wanted answers and I thought that the only way was... going.
I know, before you say it, I was a fucking idiot.
So, I got up... extra early and snuck out. Leaving Harry a message that I know wouldn't make him worry about me and I left. I guess you could say that..."
Curiosity had killed the cat, hopefully this won't end in the same way but here I was. In the exact location written on the note I found at the hospital and as I got out of my car, I could have cursed myself three times over. How stupid could I get? I'm in the middle of nowhere. All I could see in front of me, for several acres, was tall trees. Everything in me was screaming to turn the engine back on and drive home, forget any of this had happened; but nothing ever works that way.
I had found myself standing an inch or two away from the edge of the forest.
"What was your intention of even going there in the first place?"
I shrug, "If you got to have the chance to meet face to face with your attacker and the other faceless victim... Would you go?'
"Most likely."
"There's your answer."
I clench, and unclench my fists, my uncertainty of even stepping so much a foot into this forest; and alone was amplified by the second. Then I remembered, in my glove compartment hides a gun. Maybe I'd feel safer if I took it with me, I mean I'm not stupid what's to say this so-called note is from my attacker waiting in the woods to finish me off; I'd have to shoot first, don't you think?
Breathing deeply, I shake my head and bounce on the balls of my feet. I should get back in the car and go but then I'll never know what's out there. Could I even live with the thought of not knowing?
"Just go," I whisper to myself, "walk for half an hour and leave, nothing is probably out there... says every girl in a horror movie that's about to die."
But I go anyway, with the gun hidden in my back pocket, and what a fucking idiot I am.
One foot in front of the other, I take long strides into the dark and gloomy forest ahead of me. With each step I take, trees grow over the daylight and cast over me in darkness; thats not fucking scary at all. Reaching into my back pocket, I flick on the flashlight and dart it from side to side - never once looking back. I kept my gaze straight ahead of me, walking over branches and breaking them, listening to the birds squawk in the trees and the whistling of the wind running its fingers through the branches; all adding to this wonderful experience.
I'm terrified, but I don't show it. Why? Well, I feel eyes on the back of my head; you know when you get that itching feeling that somewhere someone is watching you. I had that feeling right now but I have to push it down; thinking like that will just make me more scared. Be brave, be brave, you are brave... you have this in the-
My foot snagged on something on the ground, inhaling sharply I reached out to wrap my hand on a tree to catch myself. I let out a sigh of relief, what the fuck was that? I shine my torch towards the brown, mossy, ground and find several leaves scattered everywhere; all over the branches, and the roots, and that nicely covered tarp... wait. Squinting a little, mostly to make sure I wasn't seeing things, I walked towards the covered ground and crouched down to the tarp; ripping it back.
"What the hell?" I mummer to myself at the steel door, in the fucking ground.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I recall the phrase that was on the note: I have trapped our attacker. My heart beating rapidly in my chest, this couldn't be what the note had meant...could it? Shining the torch over the door, I find a metal handle and stupidly decide to fucking pull the door open; and with ease it does.
The light from my flashlight hits against descending stairs, and I'm supposed to fucking go down them now? I'm about to die, I think, if I move forward and head down the stairs... I'm gonna fucking die. So what to do... who would come find me the quickest? Pulling out my phone from my back pocket, I do the only thing my mind can think of and send my location to the only person who'd respond. My best friend, and flatmate, Maggie.
Only because everyone else is working.
Taking a literal leap of faith onto the first step down; I begin my descent to my death. What a stupid idiot, I tell myself, turn back now while you still can. My footsteps echoed with every descending step down, the daylight behind me slowly fading into black and my anxiety continuing to build. My hand tightly grips the flashlight in my hand, the light flickering from the tremor of fear that wouldn't leave my body. I'm stupid, I'm so fucking stupid to be doing this but my curiousity was in full control.
"Would you take that decision back if you could?"
I blink, "Of course I fucking would."
What a stupid question. If only I had listened to my gut instinct...
At the bottom of the bunker, is a long never ending corridor and three doors; two open and one seeming to be locked. A light seems to flicker on in the centre of the hallway, as if it came alive to my presence, almost welcoming me to the danger that faces written in these walls. Breathing deeply, I walked myself further into the bunker, heading for the first open doorway, my flashlight gripped tightly as if it were some sort of protection. I had full intent of using it to hit someone with, if i couldn't get to the gun first.
I walked slowly, keeping my footsteps light, in the hopes of causing a surprise to anyone waiting for me down here.
I had to prepare myself for anything. Inside the first room was no outline of a figure waiting to attack me, but that brought little ease to my mind. I inhaled a breath of relief anyway. Like the hallway behind me, the room's light flickers on in my presence, my eyes begin to adjust to the sight of a simple bathroom. Was someone living down here? If so, how long had it been since they saw sunlight?
"A sink, a mirror above it. Then next to that a toilet and what looked to be a shower... there wasn't much to tell about this room."
I left the first room rather quickly, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible, moving on towards the second room. A bedroom. I swallowed my saliva at the thought of someone actually living down here, stranded from the rest of the world. My eyes followed along the white skirting boards of this room, focusing on their detail: a chest of draws, a small bed and then I caught sight of it.
Tally marks etched into the wall.
At the sight my brows furrow, and I step further into the room, my hand reaching out in front of me to brush my fingers against the lines. How many could there be? The lights repeat their pattern and flicker on as I stand at the end of the room, revealing the answer to me. Lines littler almost the entirety of the wall, making me gasp.
I step back, a little afraid and wishing I had stayed in Harry's house but I force myself to go onward. One last room, I remind myself over and over like a mantra; like a safety blanket. One last room and then I can leave, move on with my life and forget about the silly little fragments of memory that my mind allows me to see.
But I know now just how serious those pieces of my memory are and how they all connect and lead back to you.
The third room's door is closed, I remind myself again, and that slightly terrifies me. My mind drifts to the worst possible scenarios and marking each up in a tiny little scoreboard in my mind; wondering which would have the most likelihood of happening. If it's locked, I think, I can turn around and leave; so at least I should check if it's locked.
Shakingly my hand reaches upwards towards the handle, one twist and I can go home. No movement from that door handle means that I can go home. Sit back on the couch and watch a film, feel the world slip away behind me; and forget. Unfortunately luck was not on my side because as soon as I turned the handle, the door fell open with a tiny squeak. Almost telling me to not come into the room... but I do.
In fact, I could have sworn I heard someone whisper it in the wind.
As I step into the room, the repeating pattern of the light flickers on to reveal a man in a chair.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
What the actual fuck is going on?
Hunched over, his head tilted down to the floor with his hands behind his back. My eyes frantically search around the room, for what? I don't know but my whole body freezes for a moment at the sight of him. Tied up in that chair. Chains hooked on to each of his hand and attached to either side of this square room. I have to go. I need to leave....
But something was keeping me here.
Fear. It was rooting me into the ground, bounding me here until something forced me to leave. Maybe until he forced me to leave. Tears welled my eyes as I panicked, my heart beating loudly in My chest; focusing on nothing but him. I guess I should've looked around the room. I inhaled deeply, panicking, taking a small step back towards the door - which makes a noise.
He wakes. His eyes going wide in terror and, in a furious panic, the stranger lets out a terrifying growl and lunges for me.
Letting out a small scream, my body comes back to life, backing away and blindly reaching for the door. Clutching the handle behind me, I pull, and I pull hard, on the door; just in time for the prisoners arms to reach out towards me. The echo of the chains rattling against their restraints will probably haunt me forever.
I throw it open, just before he completely lunges towards me with a terrifying roar; the chair he once sat on being flung behind him. I didn't look behind me, heck I didn't even want to see more of his face than I had I just fucking ran.
"... and I ran so fucking fast that I almost missed it."
"Missed what?"
"Presley, wait!" His broken voice calls from behind the closed door, but I am already long gone.
NO PERSPECTIVE
In a haste, Presley stumbles out of the bunker; nearly tripping over her feet several times. All that was running through her mind was to flee the scene and never return; and dear reader, we are almost certain she had that intent. Behind her, she could still hear the pleas of the man inside the six foot deep bunker but she had every intention of ignoring it. If any sort of thought was running through that head of hers; it was to ignore him, get home safely and never return.
Silently, in the shadows I watch her flee the scene. She runs past the room had entered before, the very one I'm standing in. I'm a master of the shadows, I hid before she could see me.
My first thought? She came... even when I had especially advised her not to. Did she not see the note? I underlined the words 'DONT COME'
did you not see it?
Yes, I'm here for the check and the thrill of the madness of turning this city on its back but I can't have her involved.
Not yet.
I follow, like a ghost, silently behind her. Feeling no need to run... I'm not in a hurry, my task is simply to follow her. Keep quiet. Report back.
She stumbles up the stairs, like a child trying to take their first steps; I don't stop to think that if she looks back she will see my face. I quickly cover it, nonetheless. My victim still screams her name but she refuses to turn back, flinging open the hatch door and running - without so much as even locking it for me.
Poor behaviour, I'll have to make a note to tell you to lock up next time. I know you will come, don't deny it, there are so many secrets in this place.
The sun is still sitting in the sky as she runs through the woods, it seemed not much time had passed at all but to Presley it felt like a lifetime. Like a slow motion scene from a movie, where the protagonist discovers something they shouldn't; and frame by frame the director slowly reveals it to his, or her, audience. I should not have even bothered going down there, she thinks a new thought. Instead of just run, that is.
Presley's dark hair flies in the wind behind her, the harsh breeze hitting her rosy cheeks hardly; cutting deep like a knife. Tears begin to fall freely, from the impact of the wind or the jarring reality of what she discovered? She didn't know. Her cold shaky hands rolled up the sleeves of her jumper to wipe the water from her eyes, so that she could see where she was going. Completely forgetting about the flashlight in her hands; isn't it funny in times of high stress how your mind works?
In the distance her eyes spot the red paint of her car, almost making her sigh in relief at the sight of it.
Get in your car.
Drive...
Presley collapses on the side of the road, frozen. Okay I wanted to get in my car and drive away but I can't, I practically fell into the sidewalk. Even though she tells her mind to move and drive home, she cannot find the strength to do so. Go home, she begs to herself, get in your car, start the engine and put two feet on the pedal... come on! Why freeze now?
Why aren't you driving away?
The shock of the past half hour and the unknown of the day before had finally hit her; the traumatic experience simply had set her into a state of paralyzation. Even though her mind was free to think, her entire body had completely seized up. Inside and out, Presley was screaming; freaking out and her body was not helping with the situation.
It was adding to it.
I can't help you like this, Presley.
You can't catch me.
Time had passed and escaped her quickly, Presley couldn't keep track of how much of it had went on. All she knew was that the sun was beginning to set and soon... she'd be alone.
Drive. away.
In the dark and alone.
Is that another car pulling up?
Oh, you clever, clever girl.
"Presley?" The familiar voice of her friend, Maggie called.
Mags, she said in her mind but not aloud.
"Pres?" Maggie's concern bled through the tone in her voice, "Presley, can you hear me?"
Maggie reaches out to touch Presley's arm, gently as if to be like a feather, trying to comfort her childhood friend. Bending down to crouch in front of Presley, Maggie searches her terrified eyes for an answer that Presley couldn't seem to give. Her still, completely helpless body that didn't react to anything happening around her were all telltale signs of shock. Maggie knew something was wrong that something had obviously happened to cause this trauma response.
"Presley, talk to me... what can I do?"
Tears begin to roll down her cheeks, her mind staying on that image of the prisoner reaching out towards her. Presley feels the hot tears fall from her staring eyes but this time she cannot bring herself to dry them. Silently, she cries; no sobbing, no sniffling. Just silence.
Call my dad, she thinks, or Harry. Either of them will know what to do.
"You're scaring me," Maggie's voice shakes, "Pres... I'm gonna use your phone to call Harry, okay?"
Yes, please call him.
"Hey... no it's Maggie, I'm sorry to call- it's Presley... she's with me but like," Maggie sighs, "She's not responding to me, she's in shock... I don't know Harry, all I do know is that she sent me her location and when I get there she's like this and I don't know how to help her!" Maggie pauses, listening to Harry telling her to calm down and take a deep breath, "Sorry, I've just never seen her like this... okay, I'll try; stay on the line... Do you think you can move, Pres?"
No, I'm trying to... Maggie take me home.
Muffled, on the receiving end of the phone, Presley hears the familiar voice of Harry. He sounds so far away, talking to someone that he is in the room with.
"Mags," Harry calls, through the static, "can you try getting her into the car? I'd come to get you both but I can't leave-"
"Yeah, I'll try Harry... Don't worry, I'll bring her home."
"This is twice in the space of a night Mags," Harry breathes deeply, worry evident in his tone, "we need to start keeping a close eye on everything."
Maggie glances at her best friend, "I know, we'll talk about it later."
✨please show your love and support by clicking the star below