When I open my eyes, it is to complete darkness. At first I’m terrified that I’ve gone blind because I can’t see a thing. I try to move my hand in front of eyes to see if I can see that in the dark, but I can’t move either. I try again only to notice it’s not just my hands that I can’t move, but my legs too.

It only takes me a few seconds to recall what had happened.

It’s then that I start panicking. I try to call out for help, but my mouth is taped shut. Only then I realise that the reason I can’t see anything is because I’ve been blindfolded. My arms and legs seem to be tied to the chair I’m sitting in. I struggle against the rope binding me, trying in vain to get loose.

The only thing I gain for my efforts are chafed wrists that start bleeding. I can feel my hands and feet slowly getting numb as the tight ropes cut off the circulation of blood to my extremities. I don’t stop trying to get free, even as I feel my shoulders strain from the effort, even as my hands bleed from trying to get free of the chair arms, even as it feels like one of my ankles might just snap from the strain. I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

I only have a seconds warning before the chair suddenly falls to its side. My left shoulder hits the floor too fast and I feel something inside it tear as my whole body weight is pressed onto it. I cry out in pain, the tape muffling the sound as the blindfold catches my tears. I just lay there sobbing in pain as I try not to think too much about what is going to happen to me.

Thinking about it will make it more real, even though the blinding pain resonating from my shoulder proves that I’m not dreaming.

I don’t want to believe what is happening.

I can’t.

This isn’t real. It’s not. This isn’t something that happens in real life.

People don’t just get kidnapped! No one just goes around kidnapping random girls. That only happens in B-list movies, not to normal people.

Wait. No. It can’t. Oh, no no no. It can’t be.

The chain message that Jin sent me. It was on the evening news too.

Those girls. All of those girls that went missing. No…

I’m one of them.

                                                ★★★

I don’t know how much time has passed before I hear footsteps and what sounds like a door been opened.

“Help me.” I call out, my voice hoarse from crying. “Please. Help” The tape muffles my words. It’s pointless anyway, I’m pretty sure the person that walked in now wouldn’t have saved me even if they had heard.

The footsteps get closer and it’s seems like they stop right in front on me.

“Look what happened, Brendon. I leave her alone for a few minutes and she’s already causing trouble. Tsk tsk.” The voice is male. I try to listen for the footsteps of the person he’s talking to but I hear nothing.

“No. Brendon, we’ve been through this. I don’t need to worry about him.”

The voice gets closer, and then suddenly the chair I’m in is set upright. I scream out as sharp needles of pain shoot down my arm from my shoulder.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” The voice is closer now. Too close. I can feel his breath on my cheeks. I turn my head trying to put as much space between us as possible.

“What do you want with me?” I try to ask, but the tape prevents me from taking.

“You want to say something?” He asks, and I nod yes. “I’ll remove the tape, but only if you promise not to call out, okay?”

I nod again, and flinch as he rips the tape from my mouth.

“Please. Please, let me go.” I try to face in the direction I think he is, hoping to get through to him. I unconsciously tug at the rope binding my hands, hoping I can convince him to release me. “My family isn’t rich. We don’t have any money! My brother is just an application developer, so we can’t give you that much. Please. We’ll give you what you want, just let me go.”

My captor chuckles, and mumbles something under his breath. At first I think he’s talking to the other person in the room, but now that I think about it he might be on the phone with someone.

That is the only reason I can think of as to why I can’t hear the other person. Hopefully what they’re talking about is the benefits of freeing me. I want to say something else to convince him, but am afraid anything I say will backfire.

When he finally speaks, its not to me, but to the person on the phone.

“No! I don’t want to. I don’t think it’s necessary to kill him.” He says, and as he speaks I feel him get closer. His cheek is against mine now.

Bile rises in my throat as I feel his stubble scratch my cheek. I don’t even realise I’m crying until he suddenly goes quiet. I try to stop the tears from falling, but with every breath I take a sob bursts out of my throat. Suddenly I can’t seem to stop. The sobbing wracks through my body and I feel myself strain at my bindings as I shake uncontrollably. It seems that every time I draw in a breath it’s blocked by my sobs, until finally it feels like I can’t breath.

I recognise what’s happening as a panic attack, but nothing seems to be able to stop it. I don’t think I’m even trying to.

I let it carry me away for a moment. I lose myself in my tears in a way I never have before, letting the feeling of releasing it all distract me.

“Stop.” He says, “Why are you crying?” The voice sounds genuinely confused. His hand strokes the side of my face, the calluses rasping against my cheeks.

I turn my face away and can’t seem to stop the whimper that escapes.

“You don’t need to be afraid anymore. You are free now.” He sounds proud of himself, like a child showing his parents that he can finally tie his shoelaces by himself.

“What are you talking about? Are you going to let me go?” My voice rises at the end with the hope that suddenly blooms.

“I already have. Don’t cry. She can’t get to you here.” He giggles in a way that sets the hair at the back of my head on end.

“What? What do you mean? You can’t do this! You have to let me go. Please, if you let me go now I won’t go to the police.” I plead, already convinced that its useless. He won’t let me go.

“I saved you. I saved you. I saved you.”

I stay silent, utterly terrified. I don’t try to do anything else, and he takes this as his queue to go on.

“I saw how she treated you. She tried to place a wedge between you and your brother. Don’t worry, your evil stepmother won’t find you here.” He says with such conviction that for a moment I almost believe him. His words convince me of something I hadn’t wanted to admit to myself.

He was unhinged.

I sit there stunned, too terrified to even breath out loud. I take small breaths hoping that if I’m quiet enough he’ll forget about me.

It works for a moment.

He goes on to tell me how he saved me, and how I shouldn’t see him as a knight in shining armour, because he was just doing his job. It takes me a while to realise that he is talking about Cassidy, she is the evil stepmother. I feel oddly protective of Cassidy in that moment, as I’m tempted to set him straight.

Cassidy isn’t evil, she’s just selfish in a way that can only be because of the fact that she grew up spoiled as an only child. It’s surprising that it’s only in this moment that I’m able to understand her. Not that I agree with anything that she’s done, but at least now it makes a bit of sense. She hadn’t been jealous of the bond Jin shared with me, but rather she had been jealous of the bond itself.

The fact that we’d always have each other in a way she wouldn’t have anyone. The love she shares with my brother is different to the love I share with him. Mostly because the bond between me and Jin is unconditional in a way that only exists in someone that has always been there, in the way family is.

As he continues spinning his tale of how he heard my voice calling out for help and how he couldn’t ignore the plea, I sit there stunned. There is no way on earth he believes what he’s saying. How could he? He sounds insane.

The thought hits me like a gut punch. Is he insane? Like truly clinically proven?

“Hey,” He says suddenly, story forgotten. “I want to show you something, do you want to see? I made it for you.”

I want to ignore him, but then it hits me that he’s going to take off my blindfold.

“Yes. Show me.” I say, too quickly. He doesn’t notice, just reaches behind my head and removes the blindfold.

“You’ll love it.” He says.

The sudden brightness is momentarily blinding, and it takes my eyes a while to adjust. When they do, the first thing is see is my captor’s face.

His face is barely five centimetres away from mine, and the first thing I notice are his eyes. They are such a light blue as to be almost white. The sight sets a chill running down my spine. They match his platinum blonde hair in a way that makes him seem to be made of ice and snow.

I avert my gaze, completely unsettled. It’s then that I notice the wall.

Or rather the painting on the wall.

It’s me.

In the picture I’m sitting in front of a grand piano, my fingers flying across the keys. My face is tilted upwards and a brilliant spotlight shines down on me, illuminating my every feature. There is something eerily familiar about the painting, and it’s only when I think of this that I remember the sketch I’d received about a week ago. The art style is exactly the same.

However there is one major difference between the two.

In the sketch that had been mailed to me, I’d been wearing black pants and my favourite jean jacket that I always perform in.

In this painting I wasn’t wearing either.

I wasn’t wearing anything at all.