The Captive

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
You are being held captive. You have to find some way to escape.

Submitted: October 10, 2016

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Submitted: October 10, 2016

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The Captive

 

You are not sure exactly when you become aware of your situation – is it a sudden

 

realisation or has it been dawning on you gradually? You are somewhere you should not

 

be. Where? And you are not here by because you want to be.

 

It’s hard to remember anything when your head is so full of nothing. You are not even sure

 

of your name. You are not sure how long you have been in this room. But slowly, very

 

slowly, the memories start to return. There is a man. He comes into this room every day, you know that but are not certain how long he stays. He gives you a drink – your nutrition – and you drift off back in to oblivion. There must be something in that drink, some sort of drug that is conspiring with him to keep you captive. Because, you realise, you would not be here by choice.

Footsteps! You can hear them approaching. Of course, you are starting to be able to think, so the drugs must be wearing off. It must be time for your nutrition. You shut your eyes, pretend to be in a deep sleep. Somewhere in the fogginess of your mind a plan is starting to form.

The door opens and even through your closed eyes you can tell that it is daylight outside. The desire to get a glimpse of your abductor is very strong but you dare not take a chance of opening your eyes, even just a crack. If he were to notice that could be the end of any chance you have to escape. The door is shut now, the room back in darkness. You can hear someone getting nearer, stopping next to your body where you are curled up on the floor. A foot nudges against you, the force not hard enough to be called a kick.

Are your acting skills up to pulling this off? Can you act totally unaware, groggy? Can you prevent you hand from visibly shaking? You are going to have to, but the lack of light is to your advantage here. You lean yourself up, take the cup, and you take a sip of whatever concoction is inside it. You hold it in your mouth but do not swallow. The desire to cough it all out is building by the second but you must suppress that instinct until he has gone, or at least until he has moved away. Some of the liquid works its way down your throat, you can feel the liquid traitorously trickling its way down towards your stomach. The cup is not empty. You realise that he is not going to leave until it is; after all, there are no empty cups laying around. He must bring it with him and remove it every time.

Something distracts him. He moves further away. Quickly, you turn to the side, open your mouth and expel the liquid you were holding there. But damn, he’s coming back. Did he hear you spitting it out? You take another drink, let the empty cup fall to the ground, hoping that that is what you had been doing before.

He is leaning towards you. You can feel his breath on your face, sense him reaching out towards you but not making contact. ‘Please go! Please go!’ you are begging in your head.

He picks up the cup and you hear him walking back towards the door. Allowing your eyes to open just a fraction you can see a large hulking figure, must be well over 6 feet tall and very broad. Other than that you cannot make out any features except that he appears to have straggly hair of an unknown color.

The door opens straight into sunlight. Could it be that you are being held in some kind of shed, bunker, outhouse? You hope so. It would be so much easier to attempt to escape that than a room inside a house. You can hear him trudging away, an engine starting. You spit out the remaining liquid and struggle to sit yourself upright.

The drugs must be very strong. Even the tiny amount that you accidentally swallowed is muddling your thinking, making it hard for you to even move at all. And you know you are going to have to get up onto your feet. How are you going to manage that? And how long is it since you were last standing?

Okay. This is it, time to get yourself up. You place your hands on the floor, painfully manoeuvre your legs so that you can get to your knees. Even that tiny movement sends your head spinning, drops you back flat on the ground. You fight back the sobs and despair, rest for a moment. You will not, cannot, give up!

The wall of your prison is behind you but not far, you can reach it with your hand. Slowly, slowly, you shuffle your body backwards towards that wall. You turn yourself to face it and rest your forehead against it as your head begins to swim again. This sickness is a disaster. You have no idea how long you have before he will return but the fact that he leaves you unbound makes you think his absences aren’t for long. You don’t have time to give in to the dizziness – you have got to get to your feet.

Hands on the wall, slowly you let them ‘walk’ upwards, bringing the rest of your body with them. Your weight is entirely against the wall but you are on your feet. The sickness is instant, the cramps, the numbness followed by that horrible sensation of returning circulation, all coming flooding at you in an organised assault. You hang on, clinging your fingers into that wall, determined to win out this time.

Finally you can hold your head up. You know where the door is, you remember where the light came streaming in from. Slowly, one step at a time you edge your way along the wall towards it, fighting a rising feeling of nausea with every step you take. But you are doing it.

You are now against the wall with the door in it. It can’t take very many more steps to reach it, that way out of this captivity.

There, you can feel the outline of it. Now all you have to do is find the way to open it. You let your hands move slowly, feeling for anything like a catch, a bolt, a way to make it swing open. There must be a way – HE had opened it from inside. And then you find it – a simple latch like you might find on a garden gate. It is only now that you appreciate the true level of his confidence; not only were you left unbound but there was no lock on the door either!

The sunlight is blinding. How long have you been kept in that darkness? It hurts and you blink against the pain, willing yourself to open them, let them adjust. Everything is just brightness for a while, a blur of colors that gradually comes into focus.

There is a track in front of you, meandering out of your sight. Opposite to where you are standing is a woods, or forest. If you can make it to the edge of the trees that will probably be your best chance of making a successful getaway. At least the trees will provide cover, give you somewhere to hide. You are going to have to support yourself though; there is nothing to hold yourself up against while you make your way there.

Can you make it? Can you take your hands from the outside wall of the hut and still stay upright? One hand, okay......now, the other. You find yourself in a swaying world, only managing to stay on your feet when you reach back to that wall and steady yourself. No, you are not going to be able to walk but maybe, just maybe, you could get there on your hands and knees.

Time is passing. You cannot afford to waste it just on standing next to the hut. Your captor could return any second now, all your effort so far would be for nothing and he would make sure that you never had another chance. So you drop down to the ground and you crawl.

You are getting there, the tree-line is nearer, but your hands and knees are getting scraped and cut from the stone chippings you are crawling over. Then you hear it, desperately hoping that your ears are deceiving you. A vehicle is approaching, an engine is getting louder. ‘No! No! No!’ You don’t know if you are speaking aloud or just inside your head but you do know you have to get moving.

Frantic now, you move one hand, the other, one knee then the other. You have got to do it. You will not allow yourself to be taken back to that hut! The trees are almost reachable. Yes! You pull yourself up to your feet again, steady yourself against the bough then lurch forward towards the next. Three trees in and you can see the truck, the man getting out and noticing the open door. Will he even bother to go inside? Probably not but just take a quick glance through the door. He’ll know where to look for you. It is so obvious. Perhaps you should have hidden somewhere around the hut for a while until more of the drugs had worn off. Too late now though; there is no choice but to keep on running.

He is turning towards you, coming in your direction. You force yourself forwards, heedless of the branches that lash at your face, desperate to keep on and to get some distance between you and him. Your head is spinning, your heart is pumping, you just keep on going further into the trees. How big is this forest? How far away is the road? But then another question pops into your head, one you do not want to consider. Once you get to that road you are heading for, will there be anyone to rescue you? There is no sound of vehicles in the distance, just the thudding of those feet that are not even running in pursuit of you. Your captor seems so confident that you have no way of escape.

You are nearing the end of the woods now, not big enough for a forest after all. There is a patch of rough grass and then the road. You lurch away from the trees, head towards the road. You cry out when that hand reaches up and grabs your shoulder but you are silenced when the world turns black.

You feel a nudge in your ribcage. Your eyes don’t want to open but you peer out just enough to take the cup that is offered to you. You move your bound feet so you can drink and wait for oblivion to swallow you again.


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