It's What Makes Me, Me

Fumbling my hands along the hard surface beneath me, it was smooth, hostile and cold. Wrenching my eyes open, it was the same, complete darkness. I lifted my trembling hands to my face; the fabric was pulled tightly around my eyes, tied behind my head. My fingers were numb; untying the knot would be harder than I first thought. The nail on my left hand scratched deeply into my neck as my hands slipped, ‘SHIT!’ I shouted, this I did for two reasons, the self inflicted pain and to gauge the size of the room. Echoing around the room, my word bouncing off the walls, this room was big, thick walled and felt as if it were below ground, I was confused. The blindfold fell into my lap after what seemed like hours of struggling with it, it was a grubby dark cloth. Without the blindfold the light wasn’t that much brighter, the walls look a dark, dull grey color, it contained no furniture and I could only make out the bottom of a very large flight of stairs.
The cold air whipped around my body, a constant stream of air was somehow making its way around me. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw a faint splinter of light; a small, very small window lay just at head height on the right hand wall. Peering out of it gave me no evidence of where I was, all that could be seen were large apple trees and rolling fields, I was no longer in the city. I would’ve pulled the window closed but some how the fresh air calmed me, shivering I began to understand why I was cold. My hands hugged my body for warmth; my new outfit for the party last night had vanished, left freezing in my corset and underwear. What was going to happen to me? I looked for any other identification factors, landmarks or any people, was I alone? Would anyone ever find me?
I returned to a sitting position, needing to keep as much body heat as I could, I could tell I was going to need it. Planning on how to behave was next, was this person going to be one of those who like you to go against them, I had experienced it before, they want you to struggle and fight back it more of a turn on, I knew how to deal with them, relaxing and letting them do whatever they soon get bored and let you go, however sometimes they get angry and you end up with a few broken bones, but that’s better than what they had originally planned. Or they could be the type, who wants the victim to go along with everything, if you struggle you get punished however there was another type, the completely psychotic ones who don’t care what happens to the hostage as long as they get what they want. I was most scared of the psychotic type; it had always ended badly for me when I collided with one. I was always able to manipulate the other two types but the others wouldn’t budge, I would end up beaten, broken, black and blue.
I wondered would anyone know I was gone. Would anyone care? On my feet again I was bored of waiting; curiosity got the best of me I needed to know what was at the top of those stairs. Stumbling, I fell over, only now noticing the headache that caused the silence to deafen me. I hadn’t felt a headache like that in years, in fact I’d only felt it once, the night in the shack. The faint smell and taste of chloroform lingered in my mouth; I had forgotten everything I had learnt from my past, why had I breathed in? I could blame it on the surprise and everyone else but there was no point deceiving myself, this was my fault. I had been the one who went against a threat, lulled into a false sense of security and caught of guard.
Rising to my feet, feebly I reached out for the step, pulling myself vertical. My bare feet slipping as I tried to walk up the steps. A large creaking noise filled the air, the squeaky floor boards giving away the approaching strangers entrance. Backing away, I needed to seem weak; it was my best option for survival. I squinted as a blinding light pierced through the bleakness of the dark room, the shadow figure stood poised at the top of the large flight of stairs.
It was time to say hello.