Far From Home

Eventually, I woke. Well, I thought I was awake. The room was pitch black, no windows or light source of any kind, and I certainly didn't feel very awake. Or alive, for that matter.

Several times the two men who weren't the nice- well, nicer- boy came down the stairs and examined me with some kind of electric lantern. From these visits, I gathered that one man was the "boss" of the whole situation, whose deep voice and menacing laughter made me shiver in fear. The second man that wasn't my somewhat friend was a "co-boss", though not quite as cold as the deep-voiced man. The sound of his voice lead me to believe he was kind of scrawny, though he could pack a powerful kick. Both of them could, actually. I would know from the sharp blows I received to the stomach each and every visit.

The third boy, the friendlier of the group, came off as a hostage himself. No, he wasn't tied up and being forced to stay in a dark cell, but it seemed like he really didn't want to be there, but was being forced to stick around. Regardless, I felt a feeling of hope and perhaps a spec of trust in him.

It had been quite some time since I'd gotten a visit from any of my captors, and I could no longer hear small bumps and creaks when they walked around above me. I assumed this meant they had gone to bed. Now was my time to move if I wanted to be free.

I took a deep breath. Step one, wiggle my toes. Alright, I could do that. Next, I carefully rolled onto my stomach. No problems yet. Just as I began to try to push myself up, which was very painful, the door creaked open, then clicked as it was shut again. 'Shit.'

I heard the familiar click of the lantern being switched on, and played dead as I listened to the small thumps of someone descending down the stairs. 'Please be the shaggy haired one. Please, please.' "Are you awake?" I heard a familiar voice whisper. 'Yes!'

"I-I think so," I grunted, turning my head to the side to try and get a glance at him. He towered over me, the lantern in hand, and a worried look on his young face. "You look awful," he groaned in slight horror, crouching down beside me and pushing aside the thick, disgusting locks of hair that were sticking to my face. I didn't move. I couldn't move.

Beside him was the silhouette of what appeared to be a Duffle bag, which sparked my curiosity. He must have followed my eyes because he looked down at the bag beside him and smiled at me, then began to gently try and roll me over. My body was still sore as hell, but I complied and, before I knew it, I was on my back side again.

From the bag, the youth pulled a carton of chicken nuggets, then proceeded to adjust my weak body until I was laying with my head in his lap. Then he pulled apart the chicken nuggets and fed me bit by bit. Strangely enough, I felt at ease in this situation.

“May I ask your name?” I said between bites. He seemed to think for a minute. “I can’t say quite yet. You’ll find out eventually.” I gave him a strange look, but nodded my head in understanding anyway. “I can’t believe they did all that to you. I know they hurt you, and it angered me more than ever, but I couldn’t say anything because they’re so much bigger than me," He whispered, hatred in his voice.

I felt deep sympathy for him and whispered back, “It’s alright, really. I’m not even feeling that bad.” “But your body is covered in bruises, love.” “Oh? See, I never would have guessed, because I feel fine.” He gave me a skeptical look and smiled down at me.

We both giggled to ourselves, sitting there for a few moments longer, until finally, he stood and picked up his lantern, but left his duffle bag next to my leg. I half expected him to turn and leave, but instead, he walked across the room and into anther smaller room in the corner and set the lantern on a counter, then came back over and scooped me up again.

The room he brought me into was the bathroom, and as he set me down on the counter, I turned around to glance at my reflection in the mirror. I thought I looked bad as I was walking to Bailey’s, but that was sheer beauty compared to how I looked now.

My hair was a tangled mess, my eyes had dark circles beneath them, and a dark bruise covered my left cheek. I couldn’t resist touching it, and Shaggy snickered when I flinched. Turning on the hot water in the sink, he pulled out a washcloth from his duffle bag, dampened it, and proceeded to wipe my face and limbs gently after pulling off my musky overcoat.

My muscles still had a slight ache, but otherwise I felt as energized as possible for what I had been through. I slid down from the counter and stood on my own, my knees wobbling from not being used for so long. Slowly, I followed behind Shaggy as he walked back over to retrieve his duffle.

“So… I’m guessing you’re going back upstairs,” I whispered, tears forming in my eyes. I didn’t want him to leave, I felt safe with him.

“Yeah,” He responded, turning around to face me, “but you’re coming with me.”