I Love to Hate You

I don't know how long I've been sitting in this God-forsaken chair, but I've reached my breaking point. It's been days since I've seen sunlight. They haven't fed me properly, in fact, I haven't eaten in a day and a half.

It's not all physically breaking, it's emotional breaking too. I've been mind-dead for a while. I have no hope, no dignity. I don't know why I'm here or why they're keeping me alive. I've been tied to the chair, the ropes digging into my skin if I dare to move.

These kidnappers aren't against violent outbursts. My ankle is sprained, not broken because I've broken it before and it's not like that, and I have bruises littered across my body and face. Dried blood caked one side of my face, from where the Passenger punched me. There was a similar cut on the opposite side from another blow.

I sigh and lick my lips thirstily. I was so thirsty that I'd be willing to take another beating for a bottle of ice cold water. Well, maybe not. Before I could think anymore, I head footsteps outside my tiny room.

"Do you think she's awake?" The Driver asks. I never learned their name, I just refer to them as The Driver and The Passenger.

"I'll be surprised if she's still alive. We haven't fed her in days. Plus no water." The Passenger cackles evilly. If I have any water in my system, I would have cried in fear.

"We need her to live for the video, so I'll go grab her a bottle and some food." A pair of footsteps hurries away. The door slowly creaks open. The Passenger smiles at me. I involuntarily shudder.

"You're going to be a movie star!" he laughs gleefully. This man is insane!

The driver comes back carrying two bottles of water and a plate of cold food. Anything was better than nothing though. After untying my arms, I chug half of the first bottle. The quickness of the water makes me vomit violently.

Wiping my mouth, I slowly drink the rest. Then eat the food. After my second bottle, I'm feeling a bit better. That is until I see the men setting up a camera that pointing directly at me.

After clearing away my leftover bottles and plate, they retie me and pull ski-masks over their heads. Taking places on either side on me, they start the video.

"Hello FBI agents, so I saw the little press conference you've held. I must say, I'm not impressed. I told you that messing with us was a bad idea." The Passenger says ominously. I just close my eyes and look down. I had no strength to continuing staring at the camera.

"This girl here is suffering for your mistakes." The Driver adds in, not sounding as scared as usual.

The ski-masks made them look scarier as they went on about the 25 people they've killed. Silent tears fall down my face. I look at the ground. A thin blue cord connected to a laptop tell me that this is a livefeed and that someone is watching this as they speak. There was a small TV next to the computer, no sound came from it but it showed the video we were filming. It was on a local news channel that played in Rosewood!

With new found hope, I look at the camera, my eyes pleading for help. One of the masked me, probably the Passenger, smashes his fist into my face. I cry out in pain as more blows rain down. Soon enough I'm bleeding and bruised.

"You better hurry, agents. Her time is running out." The Driver smiles before flicking the camera off.

I let his last words eat me inside. Blood and tears mix together as the fall from my face. My time was almost up.