I woke up to a dim light falling on my face. I opened my eyes, feeling confused for a moment, before it all came rushing back.
Then came the pain.
Branching out from my side like sharp vines cutting into my skin. I instinctively reached down to my hip, only to be met with the sensation of plastic and cotton beneath my fingers.
My heart beating fast, I looked down to see the two thick pads, wrapped around my body like swaddling cloths.
Tears pulled at my eyes and a lump lodged itself in my throat, threatening to break into a sob. I swallowed down my fear and slowly pulled myself up, drawing away from the soft blue sheets wrapped around my skin.
I was back in the bedroom, the grey and blue one he left me in the day before. If it even was the day before. I felt like I had been asleep for weeks.
The smell of bacon drifted past the slightly open door, and I took a deep breath before pushing myself up onto shaky feet. I winced at the pain emanating from my wounds, but forced myself to ignore it. I stumbled to the door and pulled it open, stopping to take another big breath before stepping through and shuffling down the hallway towards the living area. The smell of bacon got stronger as I got closer, and my stomach ached with hunger.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the living room was the flower. Crisp and red, sitting in a thin vase of water in the centre of the table. A single red rose, the colour of blood.
The sight made me sick. All thoughts of my hunger were replaced with unease. The rose reminded me again of where I was. It made me think of last night, the blood running down my skin like a fountain. The words carved into my flesh.
"Good morning, my rose."
My head snapped to the kitchen, where my kidnapper was smiling at me as he served up two plates of bacon and eggs. He met my gaze, before his eyes traveled down my body to the pads on my skin.
I was suddenly acutely aware of my clothing, or rather, my lack of clothing. I was still wearing the bra and stained underwear I had been last night.
Mustering up as much courage as I could, I cleared my throat, drawing his attention away from my bare flesh. I hated the lust evidently playing across his face.
"Could I have some clothes?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay even.
He nodded, dropping the empty saucepan in the sink and picking up the two plates filled with eggs. "Of course, my rose. But first, please, come eat, before your breakfast gets cold."
I shook my head. "No, I'd rather–"
But he cut me off, his voice sharp. "Rule number two, my rose. Do as I say."
I clenched my mouth shut, pursing my lips. I didn't want to eat my breakfast half naked, but I had no choice. I didn't want to anger him further.
He gestured to one of the seats at the table, placing down each plate. The cutlery was already resting beside the plate, and hesitantly, I sat down, staring the food on my plate. I waited until the man was seated and I could hear the scrape of cutlery from his own plate before I started eating.
I was so hungry, it took all I had not to devour the plate of eggs and bacon. Even though I tried to pace myself, I was still finished well before my kidnapper. He let out a chuckle when he saw my empty plate. "Someone's a little piggy this morning."
I wanted to snap at him, tell him that I was only hungry because he hadn't really fed me, but I held my tongue. He was in a good mood this morning. I didn't want to ruin that.
After a few moments, he spoke again. "There's more in the pan if you want it, my rose."
I eagerly accepted the invitation and rose from the table with my plate. As I walked over to the kitchen, I tried to ignore the feeling of eyes watching after me.
I scooped a few more spoonfuls of egg and a few pieces of bacon onto my plate before turning around. To no surprise, he was staring at me, yet the sight of his eyes ravaging over my bare skin made me freeze. A sick feeling settled in my stomach.
He didn't say anything, just smirked at me and returned to his food. I slowly sank back into my seat at the table, ignoring the unease twisting in my gut. I continued eating my breakfast, glance across at him every so often. Sometimes I would catch him looking at his own food. Others, I would look up to find him gazing across at me with a ravenous look in his eyes.
Eventually, he finished his breakfast and stood up, leaving his plate where it was.
"I'll get your clothes and leave them in the bathroom for you. Once you're done, take the plates over and do the washing up. I'll be back shortly."
With that, he left, trudging up the stairs and to the house above, closing the door with the click of a lock.
I painstakingly swallowed a mouthful of eggs, suddenly feeling full. I stared down at my plate and slowly put down my fork.
Trapped.
The thought hadn't struck me since I had woken up. With everything else to focus on I hadn't thought about the reality of my situation.
I was locked in a basement in the middle of nowhere, completely at the mercy of a sick and twisted man who had the capability of ending my life.
I was trapped.
A lump lodged itself in my throat and I couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face. I held my hand against my lips, letting out a silent gasping sob. Trying desperately to keep some semblance of self composure, I got up and grabbed the plates, biting my lip to keep from crying.
Trapped.
I stumbled over to the sink in the kitchen and shakily placed the plates on the bench beside the basin. My vision blurred by tears, I started running the water in the sink, the word running around and around and around, a never ending chant.
Trapped. Trapped. Trapped.
I lifted up my plate, still covered in eggs and bacon, feeling weak and unsettled. I felt as if I was going insane, the word repeating over and over again in my mind with no end.
Trapped.
A rush of anger over came me, and I screamed out of frustration and threw the plate in my hand so that it smashed against the far wall.
The moment it shattered, the voice stopped.
Bits of broken ceramics adorned the floor, amongst the scattered remains of my breakfast. I crumpled back against the bench, feeling defeated. I let out a shaky breath and clenched my eyes shut. I realised if I kept my eyes closed, I could pretend I was somewhere else. Still back behind Target, the taste of Jordan's lips lingering on my mouth. Or back at home on my own in the silence, my parents out at church.
Then I heard a door open and close and I was snapped back to reality. I opened my eyes again, and lifted a hand to wipe away the tears from my cheeks.
My kidnapper came into the room quietly, silently examining the destruction laid out before him. A sliver of fear ran through me as I realised what I had done.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I never should have done that. Please, oh god, I'm sorry." I said, trying to get through the sea of broken porcelain but only succeeding in getting pieces embedded in my flesh. Tears blurred my vision again as I stuttered. "Please d-don't punish me again."
He stepped closer towards her, still silent. I instinctively stumbled backwards, then let out a yelp as my feet were cut by more of the broken porcelain.
He grabbed my arm, and in a tired voice, he spoke. "Stop. You're hurting yourself."
I let out a sob, shaking with fear. The memory of last nights pain haunted me. "P-please."
He steps forward again, his touch on my arm oddly gentle. "Shhh, calm down. I won't punish you over this, but I need you to breathe. You're hyperventilating."
I realised he was right, and gradually started to slow my breathing. Once I had started breathing semi-normally, he rubbed my arm lightly, and spoke again.
"I brought you some clothes, but you must be cold. Go have a shower, and warm yourself up. I'll get this cleaned up while you do." He said.
Slowly, I nodded, dropping my gaze to his other hand, that held what looked like a red dress and some black underwear. He lifted it in offering to me, and I hesitantly took at it. I went to go to the bathroom, only to yelp upon stepping on more broken porcelain.
He grabbed my arm again. "Shh, don't move. Here, I'll carry you."
I stumbled back, wincing at the pain, but dodging his arms. "No! Please, no! I can do this myself."
Yet when I tried to ignore the pain and step forward I let out another yelp, revealing the truth. I winced, and he shook his head.
"Really, Rose. It's the easiest for the both of us. I don't need to be cleaning up blood as well as your scrambled eggs." He said, with the ghost of a smile.
I stared at him for a few moments, evaluating. Then, realising I didn't have much choice, I slowly nodded. He stepped across the porcelain, his boots crushing the tiny pieces, and in one smooth movement he lifted me into his arms.
He carried me across the wreckage, and I expected him to put me down on the other side, but instead, he kept walking. He didn't put me down until we reached the bathroom, where he gently sat me down on the counter. He lifted my feet and carefully pried out the pieces of porcelain. I winced, but kept my mouth shut, silent.
He collected the pieces in his other hand, then grabbed a face washer from one of the drawers, ran it under the tap for a second, before gently wiping down my feet.
Then he slowly let down my legs, and stood up, so he met my gaze. I stared at him, shocked at the care from which he looked after me.
He stared back, his gaze filled with an incomprehensible emotion. After a few moments, he looked away, turning to the door to leave.
"Have a shower, Rose. It'll make you feel better."
With that, he was gone, leaving me feeling confused, relieved, and numb, all at the same time.