Captive

Chapter One

I’m awake but why is it so dark? I can’t move my arms. I don’t know what’s happened, let me try to remember. Last night was my 23 ^rd birthday party and I was out in town with my friends. I hate it when I drink so much that I can’t remember getting home at the end of the night. If I’m even home at all. Why can’t I move my hands? It feels like they’re bound with electrical tape but why would that have happened? I’ve really got to learn to control my drinking to stop me waking up in situations like this. It feels like I’m hanging, or swinging, or something else unusual like that.

“Hello?” No answer. Where the fuck am I? “Is anyone there?”

My hangover has kicked in as well, as if things weren’t bad enough already. As near as I can tell my entire body is suspended in the air. My wrists are bound, as are my ankles. There’s some kind of blindfold on me but wherever I am and whoever’s brought me here, they obviously don’t mind me making any noise because I’m not gagged. I listen intently for any inkling as to where I am. My memory isn’t helping as everything after 11pm is a complete blur. We were in the restaurant, then the eighties-style disco, then the club on Brook Street… but after that, nothing. I can hear the very distant drip of a tap and then suddenly I hear a heavy metal door open with a grinding sound, then as it slams shut noisily I hear footsteps, in what sounds like work boots, coming down some steps, then across the floor towards me.

My entire body tenses up. The fact that I can’t move puts me on edge and I feel like I want to cry. I don’t even know what I’m wearing, if anything. I’m definitely not wearing a bra or a top as I can feel my huge breasts swinging pendulously, my nipples hardened into little peaks in this cold room. I’m hanging from some kind of frame, or support, horizontally, facing down, with my hair dangling down over my ears. I realise that I can’t move at all, I’m restrained in such a way that anything could happen to me now and I can’t do anything about it. The footsteps get nearer and I become acutely aware of how naked I am, and fully on show for whoever this visitor is.

“What’s happened? Can you get me down from here?” I plead.

The mysterious visitor stops a few feet away from me and although I cannot see him (I’ve deduced it’s a “him” from the sound of his footsteps) I can definitely feel him staring at me and hear him breathing. This is so uncomfortable and my initial discomfort has now turned to fear. You hear stories in the papers all the time of girls going missing and either never being seen again, or turning up raped and murdered, in various states of mutilation. I can’t let this happen to me, but my vulnerability is obvious and I need to figure out a way out of this mess.

“Please, just get me down from here. I’ve got a massive hangover and I just want to go home and sleep it off.”

Why won’t he fucking answer me?!

I hear him shuffle his feet and I’d guess from the deep echoing sound that this is some kind of warehouse building. I try desperately to think of something I could say or do to get me out of this situation but my mind draws a blank. My body tenses up as I dread what this man may want to do to me, but as quickly as he initially approached me, he turns and walks away, going back through the metal door. I hear it clunk and grind after it’s shut, a sure sign that I’m locked in and that nobody is going to find me any time soon.