short-story2
So a couple of months ago I posted a short story that I had to write for one of my university subjects here on my blog (click here if you want to check it out). You lovely, lovely people seemed to really enjoy it, so I figured since I had to write two short stories for the subject, why not post the other as well?

This story is very different to the previous story and very different to anything I usually write as well. I enjoyed writing from a genre I don’t usually write in, and who knows, maybe I’ll try the genre again sometime!

If you have any constructive criticism then feel free to leave a comment below, but apart from that, I hope you enjoy the story!


 

My room was unusually dark.
It was odd how familiar you could be to your own bedroom, especially when it was dark. Like how I could always see the moonlight creeping underneath the closed door, or the small, blue light from my computer that cast an eerie glow around the whole room.
But the room I was in was pitch black.

I then noticed that the bed I was laying on felt nothing at all like my bed. This bed was lumpy, the springs of the mattress digging into my back and screeching with every small movement. My bed was always soft and warm, no matter how cold the rest of my bedroom was.

As well as my strange surroundings, my body ached. I couldn’t recall a single activity that could have caused the pain, especially since I was never a very athletic person. My mind reeled; where the hell was I?

I tried hard to recall what I had done the night before, but I couldn’t even remember going to sleep the night before. Had I even been here for a night? The room I lied in didn’t seem to have a window, or a door for that matter, but that was impossible. How could a room not have an entry? I shook my head. There had to be a door, my eyes just hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet. I thought back, my last memory was of my song writing class at University, but that was in the middle of the day. Surely it wasn’t still the same day?

I pushed myself into a sitting position. A sudden sharp pain stabbed at the back of my skull; almost enough to bring me back down to the bed. I reached for my head, my hand lightly grazing a deep cut through my hair. My fingers came away wet with blood. It was deep enough to need medical attention, but I had no idea where I was or if I could even make it to a hospital.

What the hell had happened to me?

My heart began to race. My head started to spin. My eyes stung with tears. I had to get out of there. I needed to find help.

I slowly made my way to the edge of the bed, my feet hitting cold concrete as I stood up shakily. My head throbbed at the movement, but I ignored it. My hands felt for the wall, my fingers brushing against more concrete. I felt trapped in a box; my breathing became short and quick from the claustrophobic atmosphere. My footsteps echoed throughout the room as I walked with my hand along the wall. No cracks, no windows, no doors. I reached the corner of the room and almost walked straight into the adjacent wall. To my disappointment, the next wall was the same as the first.

My fingers began their sprint along the next wall and to my relief, found a crack in the concrete. My hand followed the crack as it shot upwards.

It was a door.

I almost cried with relief. I felt around for a doorknob, for something to open the door, and when my fingers closed around a cold, metal knob I was flooded with joy. Who could’ve thought a door could make me so happy? I almost laughed at how ridiculous that was, but when I pulled on the knob and it didn’t budge, my high spirits came crashing down.

It was locked.

Of course it was. Whoever had brought me here had done so for a reason and it was clear they didn’t want me to leave any time soon. I rested my head against the door, trying to keep the tears from falling down my cheeks.

“Help,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder this time.

“Help!” My voice barely sounded like my own; how long had it been since I had last used it?

There were faint footsteps outside the door, causing me to straighten. I yelled again, my throat raw and dry as a desert. The footsteps grew louder, each step getting closer and closer to my prison. I backed away from the door as the footsteps stopped outside of it. I realised suddenly that this person could be the reason I was here. My captor. I took another step back and hit the wall. What did they want?
What if they had a weapon?
What was I going to do?
My breath quickened as my heart beat faster; I was suffocating. My body wasn’t getting enough oxygen but I couldn’t calm down. I couldn’t relax. I was panicking; was I about to die?

The door opened with a groan as though it hadn’t been opened very often. A blinding light shone through the room causing my eyes to squint shut. I heard footsteps approach me but the light was far too bright for me to see who it was. I began to slide down the wall, my sobs echoing loudly through the small room as I waited for the person to reach me; I was too weak to fight. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders, causing me to wince, and pulled me up. The sudden movement sent a wave of nausea through my body and I almost collapsed into the strong arms.

“Megan.” It was a man’s voice, deep and strangely familiar. “Megan, it’s Will. It’s okay.”

Will? My brain struggled to remember the name, but when I finally opened my eyes and looked up, I instantly recognised him. Will, my older sister’s boyfriend. Will, the first guy I ever had a crush on. Will, my saviour. Relief escaped my body through sobs as he pulled me to his chest. How did he find me? How did he get here? It didn’t matter; I was safe.

He released me from his hold and placed his hands on my shoulders, assessing me for any injuries. His blue eyes looked almost grey and his face and hair were covered in dirt, but otherwise he looked normal. His hand moved to the back of my head and found the cut; his touch sent tiny stabs of pain throughout my skull. He noticed the pain on my face and let go quickly, placing his hand back on my shoulder.

“We’ll get that cleaned up soon, Meg. We need to go now, though,” he said quietly. I nodded, unable to find my voice, but regretted the movement instantly when my vision clouded and the throbbing in my head increased.

We walked out of the room; Will taking most of my weight as I gradually became too weak to move on my own. I tried to take in my surroundings as we walked but there wasn’t much to see. More concrete walls, more concrete floor; even the ceiling was concrete. The fluorescent lights sitting high up on the walls made the place seem sterile and creepy, like an old, abandoned hospital. There were other doors, some with room numbers and some without, but the building seemed empty. Was I the only person in there?

“How?” I tried to ask but barely managed a whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again.

“How did you find me? What happened?” I croaked, my throat raw and desperately in need of water.

Will didn’t answer, his mind clearly focused on getting us out of there. We passed another door, this one with a small sign saying maintenance, before we descended a flight of stairs. Will practically carried me the whole way, and I couldn’t help but think about how often I had wished to be in his arms when I was sixteen. Seven years on, I definitely wasn’t the same girl; my crush on him had lasted only a few months before I had moved on. Will had been with my sister ever since, though he hadn’t popped the question. He always managed to avoid the questions we asked whenever the topic came up. It wasn’t like my sister didn’t want to get married, she had always wanted to, but Will just didn’t seem ready for it.

Downstairs, I noticed it was a lot darker than the level I’d been locked on. Few lights worked and the ones that did flickered constantly. My heart rate began to rise; this was the scene of a horror film. There were doors open showing nothing but darkness inside, and doors that were barely attached to their hinges. The floor was covered in white tiles, which had been cracked and worn down over the years. Through the flickering lights, I saw a large door at the end of the corridor, the exit sign above it barely visible. The thought of home and safety pushed my fragile body towards the door; a rush of adrenaline was the only thing moving me forward at the same pace as Will’s. He pushed open the door and dragged us outside; the night carried an icy chill that I felt deep in my bones. My whole body began to shiver, which only caused my head to throb harder. The relief of being out of there thankfully numbed the pain a little.

Will’s car was the only other car around, which seemed a little odd but I could barely think with my injured head. Where was my kidnapper? Or had I just been left there to die? I let out a groan; the pain becoming worse as Will helped me into his car.

“Hold on, Meg,” he urged, his eyes level with mine. “We’re almost home.”

He buckled me into the car before jumping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. I passed out then, or at least I think I did because when I opened my eyes again I found myself on a bed in a dark room. This room wasn’t mine, but it wasn’t the one in the hospital, either. This room featured dark, wooden furniture and wooden walls. A thick, woollen rug covered most of the floorboards; the blanket I lay under seemed to be made of the same material. I touched the back of my head. The wound had been patched up. I felt confused. I didn’t know where I was or why I wasn’t at home or at a hospital.

The door opened then, letting in a warm light from the room outside. Will walked in with a glass of water and smiled down at me when he saw I was awake.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he passed the glass to me. My hands were shaky as I drank, spilling water over my clothes. I was too dehydrated to care.

“Okay.” I replied once I finished drinking and placed the glass on the small table beside the bed.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to recover,” he said quietly. His face screwed up as though it pained him to think about what had happened.

“But you’re okay now. We’re okay.” He knelt down beside the bed, his hand finding mine.

My stomach began to churn; this didn’t feel right. Where were my parents? My sister and my friends? Why hadn’t they rushed through the door and cried with relief at seeing me? Where was I?

Will sensed my confusion and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at me, his eyes mixed with emotion. I pushed myself up and rested my back against the wall, if only to distance myself from him. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I suddenly felt uncomfortable around him. He looked at me fiercely, like a hunter looked at their prey. My heart began to race. This couldn’t be right, not Will.

“I want to go home,” I whispered as I pulled my hand away from his.

He stared at me silently for a while. He looked angry and upset, as though the thought of me going home physically hurt him.

Then the realisation hit me like a truck.

He had always been nice to me and we always messed around, but I had moved on. I didn’t love him as my sixteen-year-old self did, but had still considered us close friends. He had always been a little protective of me but I assumed it was in a brotherly way.

Everything seemed to click into place.

Will’s car was the only one around because he was the only one who knew I was there. He knew where I was because he was the one who took me there.

I felt nauseous. I felt betrayed. I tried to further the distance between us but he noticed what I was doing. He could tell I had figured it out but instead of getting frustrated or trying to explain himself, he smiled. It wasn’t one of the smiles I used to love; it was full of power and possession, as though I belonged to him. He leaned towards me, cornering me on the bed. That’s when I noticed the piece of wood in his hand and began to scream.

“This is your home now, Megan,” he smiled. It was the last thing I heard before I was engulfed in darkness once again.

 


I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you did I would love to hear your thoughts!

Until next time, danielle

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