Where did Mary go

Eyes Wide open

Placid, she gradually opened her eyes, gawking at the wooden ceiling. Slowly flickering, she turned her tense head towards her left. Mary stood up panicking. She held her hand towards her chest where she felt the thin line up to her neck red and blistered. A red door with cracks around it came to her attention. The paint was peeling off the edges with rust around the handle. Mary gasped for air as she couldn't believe where she was pressing her fingers onto her forehead. Coldness surrounded her as hands started shaking as she stood there, silent. Instantly, tears rolled down her chin, rushing into a puddle. She sat down, resting her head on her arms. She lay there in shame of not cherishing those moments closest to her. She then wiped her tears with a handkerchief her mother gave her with her initials caressing it on her eyes. She then folded the cloth and gently put it away in her breast pocket. Mary sighed then stood up, searching the room around her. There lay an old, dusty bookshelf in the corner with folders on each side. Mary reached her hand forward, just then the hinges of the door began to squeak. Mary rushed to the spot where she awoke and lay silent on the floor. The door opened with two men entering it. One dark-skinned and muscly the other fair and thin. "Wake her up," a deep voice croaked. The tall, muscly man approached Mary and gently kicked his shoe on her head. Mary did not know what to do.

Should she stay unconscious? Just then the man shook her vigorously pinching her arm tightly. Mary struggled to keep her emotions neutral as she clenched her fists tightly. The pain was intolerable, and the longer she suffered, the harder the pinch got. "Forget it; you gave her double the does anyway. We'll come back later to get the girl". As they left, Mary sped to the door and peeped through the keyhole only to find another red door after hers. She thought to herself what these men possibly wanted from her. She didn't have a wealthy family; neither she was involved in mischief with gangs or whatnot. Then what would they want from her? Hours passed by while Mary lay on the frozen, marble floor weeping. There were no windows, or no other doors or no vents for her to climb into; in other words, she lost hope of ever seeing her family again. There was a clock, however, which ticked with great sound - the only thing from keeping the room echoless. Mary lay there, listening to the ticking of the watch, slowly fluttering her eyes into sleep next to her pool of tears cold.

Hours passed by as Mary twitched and turned her position in distress. She couldn't gain rest from the decaying smell that was coming from the bookshelf. She shifted towards the wall leaning her back against the cracks. A sense of fatigue overtook her but left her feeling alert. Unruffled, she gazed upon the dented bookshelf in the corner and noticed a blue file sticking out from the others. Her forehead wrinkled as she glared. She stood up, making her way towards the blue folder. A thin layer of dust covered on the top; Mary blew it off before smoothly pressing her fingers on the first page. Her eyes bulged as she was shocked to see what lay in front of her. Suddenly, her muscles weakened as her skin tingled with discomfort. It was her, a high school picture of her on the top of the page with her address. A sudden feeling of heaviness overtook her as she fell to the ground in horror. Mary's chest tightened. She gasped for air as a lump in her throat, stopped her from doing so. It just didn't make sense she thought to herself. She wasn't wealthy neither essential in any way then why was burdened with this trauma. Within seconds the red, cracked door creaked open. She froze, unable to hide or run.