It wasn't until I stepped into the van, was when I regretted my decision.
Daylight. Daylight in my own explanation was happy. The sun shining could make your day 10x as brighter than it was. Feeling the wind in your hair, seeing how the water flowed, how people's shadows danced. Even the nice heat it would sometimes give off, making you feel all warm and cozy inside.
Daylight was something I hadn't seen for 5 years. I forgot how the sun felt, how it would dance off my silhouette. How it made me feel. Daylight was one of the things I missed most from the outside world. That and my family. The days went by slow and painful. Making me forget time at all. The only part of time I didn't forget was the month and days. That's the only reason I knew I had been locked here for 5 years.
You might be thinking I was stuck in a jail cell, or in prison. I wasn't. I hadn't done anything wrong. The only thing I did wrong was my actions. My actions made their consequences and here they were. Kicking me in my non-existent ball sack.
I weakly stood up, writing the date on the wall with a sharp rock. My writing utensil for the past 2 years. The knife I had before wore out it's sharpness after 3 years of using it. It was currently the year of 2014. The time I got kidnapped was in 2009. I was only 13 when it happened. 13 and in her puberty starting. It wasn't, and still isn't easy finding cloth that won't bleed through.
I laid my head against my arm which was on the concrete below me. My eyes were probably a light (Y/E/C), according to my loss of Serotonin. That's what happens when you haven't seen the lights of day for years. Your eyes begin to go lighter and lighter. My eyes were probably as light as you could have them go.
I took a shaky breath as I closed my eyes, begging for sleep. It was pretty much the only thing I'd do. It's like I'd wake up and be in a new place, safe and away from here. The other thing that I would do, or...they'd do...was get tortured. they'd cut me, beat me, harm me in any way possible. Although, some days I'd beg them to just kill me and be done with me. But they wouldn't. They'd let the pain last. It was like I was their play toy. It happened every day for 5 years.
I felt my eyes droop. A feeling I was too used to feeling. Sleep. Most of the time I'd get nightmares, but sometimes...Sometimes I'd get sweet dreams. Dreams that had my family in them. Over the years, I'd forgotten what my family looked like. Only slight images would be in my head. But when I'd wake up, they'd only be dreams...and they weren't reality.
As I was about to fall asleep, I heard shouting. I bolted right up and tried to stand up to my feet. Thing was, was I hadn't stood for so long, I didn't think my legs could hold me. I was weak from all the torturing that occurred not even an hour ago. When the shouting stopped, was when the panic went through me. But I didn't move. I hoped that whatever made the shouting start in the first place, wouldn't come down here. However, I also hoped they would. If they were good people.
When I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and light escaping the door way, I squinted my eyes. I saw a tall man. I wouldn't say he was buff, kinda scrawny, but he did have muscle. His hair was in a tall quiff and his outfit was an almost metalic silver. He had a sharp edge on his arm band as well as a mask.
I could only hear a few muffling words before I fainted.