Life Held Captive

December 18, 2013
Jasmine felt the shackles, cold and rough, against her skin. Her mind was fuzzy. She tried to open her eyes. She couldn’t tell if she did though. The room was so dark. It hardly made a difference if her eyes were open or closed. She hadn’t a clue how much time had passed, but her eyes finally started to adjust. She looked at her feet. There were medieval looking cuffs firmly wrapped around her tiny ankles. They were attached to thick chains that led up the wall. They were noisy and clinked whenever she made the slightest movement. Her wrists hurt. They were caked with blood, indicating that there was some form of restraint. Her stomach growled, her body ached, and she was extremely confused. How had she gotten here? Who chained her up? What was going on? A million things raced through her mind. She found herself becoming extremely cold. She shivered and the chains made the noise of a ghost. She suddenly realized that she was in nothing more than her under clothes. Someone had removed her clothing. “What sick freak does this?!?” She thought out loud. She heard a tiny moan. It sounded like a child. “Hello?” She whispered “Is anyone there?” There was no reply. She was sure that she was not the only one in this basement. Several moments later, she heard footsteps. They were loud and they came from directly above her. She heard music...a song from when she was a child. It was a song her mother often sang when she was cooking. She heard a clatter of chains. She flinched and got as close to the wall as possible. “Who’s there?!?” She managed to squeak, in a voice that sounded scared and confused. “What? Oh, my god. No...” the voice answered back. It was not a child like she had originally thought. “My name is Emma... I’m 17 years old. Or at least..I was when he brought me here. What day is it? Do you know?” It took Jasmine a moment to respond. “Wait, are you Emma...” she could not recall the last name. She turned her mind over and over, but she could not remember the name of the young girl that had gone missing two years prior. “My last name is Timberland. Now, do you, or do you not know the date?!?” Jasmine could not believe what she had just heard. The police had presumed her to be dead! “Emma, I don’t know how to tell you this... You’ve been here for a little over two years.” She heard the young girl begin to sob. Emma made the most haunting noise that Jasmine had ever heard. It was a moan that came from deep within her soul. What kind of monster does this? She felt pity for the girl. She heard the footsteps again. They led to the source of the music. The music had silenced. Emma’s tears had stopped, but Jasmine’s had just begun. She heard Emma whisper “Please, stop crying now! He’ll do bad things if he knows you’re awake! Pretend your’e asleep! Just pretend you’re asleep!” Jasmine did as she was told. She closed her eyes and dried her tears. Doing so only sharpened her other senses. She smelled stale urine, she tasted copper, and she heard the footsteps growing louder, louder, LOUDER! Her heart began to race and, like the footsteps, her heartbeat got louder. Her heart began to thump so violently, she thought that Emma might have heard! Finally, the footsteps stopped. She heard someone set something down. An eerie creak from the door filled the silent room. A chill went down her spine. It caused the shackles to make noise. She shifted into a different position. She faced away from where the sound of the door originated. She heard someone come down steps. The stairs sounded hollow. She counted... “One, two, three,” she would have to know... “four, five,” if she ever planned... “six, seven,” on escaping... “eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve.” It was obvious that it was a man. He whistled as he walked toward Emma. He sat a tray down. “Eat up.” How did he expect her to eat? She was chained up too...wasn’t she? Or was it just her feet? Jasmine decided she would ask later. He had a deep, fatherly, voice. He almost sounded like he cared. He sat a tray down in front of Jasmine. “You too, hon. You need your strength...You ain’t nothin’ but bones.” He cackled in her ear. He stroked her face with his index finger. She resisted the urge to scream, to flinch, to cry, to do anything. She simply sat there in a false state of unconsciousness. He walked away, back up the stairs. She counted again. “One, two, three,” Her mind was in a million places... “four, five,” was anyone looking for her?... “six, seven,” would he rape her?... “eight, nine,” this was like one of those scary movies... “ten, eleven,” only, it’s real.. “twelve.” and it was happening to her.





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