Varian peeped through the small crack created by the door. He licked his chapped lips. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed tight with cotton. An ache in his jaw mixed with his aching temples, a blur of pain taking over his head.
With a steady hand, he slid his fingers over the wood. Cold air touched his pale skin, soft like silk. For whatever reason, he released the breath he’d been holding. The warmth mixed with the cold, mixing like his saliva had mixed with his blood.
Same, alike. Different, foreign.
His heart sped up.
This would hopefully be the last time he’d see the inside of this room. It wasn’t the freedom he’d been looking for, but it wasn’t one that he was going to refuse.
Progress was progress after all. Soon enough, he would be out of this place.
He’d been thinking hard about escape since he woke here. He couldn’t be far from his hometown. It felt cold just like it was. It didn’t seem like he was too far away. But the mind did play tricks on those who were foolish to believe it. His mind had been playing tricks on him for years now.
He slid through the small opening.
They’d opened the door. He didn’t know when. He’d fallen asleep after screaming his head off and when he woke again, he checked the door and window as if it was a normal occurrence. By a miracle—or by a curse—the door was unlocked.
They were being intentional about this.
It didn’t slip his mind that they could have walked in and done something to him. But they hadn’t.
He wasn’t that much of a deep sleeper.
He observed each wall and every corner of the hallway. The wallpaper was faded but well kept. A gold mirror hung over a polished side table where a small case of flowers sat. The beauty caught him off guard. He stilled for a moment to gaze into the mirror. Dust covered it, fogging up his reflection. Without a second thought, he walked to the table and touched the flowers. His blood smeared onto the petals, leaving a trace of his history behind.
His eyes drifted away from the flower, taking in the rest of the hallway. If the hallway was this big, was this extravagant, the house must be large. A mansion. It was probably at least three stories tall. No one in his small town would live in this kind of house. He didn’t think it existed. He would surely know about it.
There was nothing left in the hall except a door at the far end. He glanced down at the flowers when he noticed a small drawer built into the table. Almost a little afraid to take a look, he hovered his hand over the knob. The metal was cold. All it took was a small tug for the drawer to slide out.
Inside was a lock of red hair tied together with a blue ribbon.
He pressed his lips together. The blue ribbon was stained with drops of red.
He slammed the drawer shut.
Dust shook off from the mirror and when his eyes met his own, he swore he saw a slight dilation, but it was only his imagination.
He backed away from the table, stumbling once. Clutching his hand to his chest, he looked side to side as if expecting someone to be there. There was, of course, no one. However, in the furthest corner, above the new door, was a camera.
“Someone’s left you a gift,” the voice said. They laughed. “Why are you so rude? I doubt you get many out in the ‘real world’.”
Varian was stricken. He couldn’t find any words for a moment. His mouth opened and closed as he kept staring at the door that held the locket of hair.
Bile pushed at the back of his throat. He just managed to keep it down.
Hot anger surged through him. He clenched his fists. “Is this part of your game? I thought you’d be more interesting. Instead, you’ve resorted to dropping pitiful tricks.”
“Hm. What a large vocabulary for such a mundane man.”
“Mundane enough that you’ve kidnapped me?” Varian really didn’t know where all that had come from. After he said it though, he quivered to think of what the person would do to him. If that piece of hair was real and counting in that they’d already kidnapped him.
What else were they willing to do?
“Ouch. You do have a sharp bite. Watch out or you might wake up with no tongue. If you’re lucky.”
He felt numb but also on fire. His hands shook with anger and fear. How had he ended up here? Why was he here? And to think that there had been others before him. Thinking about that made his stomach toss and he held onto the table to steady himself. Sour phlegm hit the back of his throat. He gagged before he swallowed it down.
His nose scrunched and it was hard to breathe.
Please. Save me. Get me out of here.
“Oh, what happened to all your big talk?”
Varian fought down the urge to flip them off. “Shut up.”
“That’s the spirit! I could have killed you the first time you talked back, but where is the fun in that?” They laughed again. “Anyway. Just head to that door. Hurry, I don’t have all day.”
The speaker clicked off.
Varian cursed the fucker behind the voice. They were fucking sick and twisted.
His grip turned his knuckles white and his fingernails bit hard into his skin. He tried to think of something else as he walked down the hallway. The lock of hair was pushed away to make room for his family, his friends, and Hazel. Their voices and their faces comforted him until he reached the door. He looked into the camera.
They were behind that lens. Whoever they were, they must have a lot of money and time to be able to do this. He couldn’t even start to imagine who they were. There was absolutely no one in town that fit that description. And he’d always been to preoccupied with his own life to even think about snooping around into others.
Summer was the last thing he could remember. How many days have passed? He could remember the cold day they left for the lake. He remembered watching the waves, his own reflection in the blue-green water, and the hazy sunset that washed the forest in a gray tint.
He frowned.
Had they stayed there? He thought they did because he was sure he remembered setting up tents and a bonfire. He hadn’t been much help with the tents because he was a lost cause with directions.
Had they? Or was that all a figment of his imagination?
It pissed him off to no end that he couldn’t place anyone who would fit the description of his kidnapper. Maybe he should have paid attention, but how could he have known this would be the result? How could he have known he would be kidnapped and forced to endure this terror? He’d been blinded by life, by the joys of his family and friends.
He never thought there would be someone this sick watching him.
Summer will always end.
School would begin again. The cold months would turn even colder. Where would he be then?
He’d been kidnapped and forced to earn back his life. He couldn’t even remember how it had happened. The last memories he had were of his friends and messing around a camp fire.
He could remember Hazel. Her warmth, her lips upon his, and the way her arms held on tight to him.
That’s all he could remember.
But beyond that memory, he thought about his mom and dad. Where had they been when he’d gone missing? What did his friends tell them? Those questions couldn’t be answered. They were stuck on reply and what he might have thought was some clue to his disappearance were just his imagination trying to right the wrong that was never his fault.
He entered the room with no hesitance. Like a storm, he swept over the tiled flooring, scanning the walls and counters. The walls were painted soft forest green and covered in hand painted white flowers. The counters were marble and the cabinets were wood. In the middle of the room was a table and four chairs, a flower centerpiece was the only thing on top.
He jumped when the speaker turned on. The static crackled in the otherwise quiet room.
“Took you long enough. Well, first things first, open the drawer to cabinets down from the left. I know how you like to take your time, so I’ll give you a few minutes.”
The first thing he wanted to do when he got out was punch the fucker in the face. But he held back his anger and did what they said. The drawer was the same as all the others, nothing special about it. He pulled it open and wasn’t too surprised to find it full of silverware. The metal gleamed in the light, sharp edges and all.
Glass shattered in his mind and the gleam of a knife stroke the softness of his own skin. The blade sliced through muscle and blood seeped through the cut. It oozed from the would and the skin shined.
“Take the knife. You’ll need it.”
Varian snapped out of the haze and grabbed the only knife in the set. It wasn’t a butter knife but a long serrated chopping knife.
“Good, good. You’re easy to get along with when you’re not talking. Maybe I’ll just cut your tongue out to save myself the trouble of putting up with you.” The voice chuckled when Varian stomped toward the door. “Did I hurt your feelings? Eh, I’m the one you have to worry about though. And besides, you’re going out the wrong door.”
He halted.
“It’s this way.”
The cabinet under the sink creaked open mechanically. From where he stood, he couldn’t see a thing, but he could only assume this was the way to his next destination.
A small light turned on. It barely casted a faint glow.
“Have fun.”
The speaker crackled and the laughing voice cut off.
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