Out of the Darkness

Chapter 2

My body jolted awake as a screeching noise echoed off the stone walls. I bolted upright, my eyes searching the darkness. Fear overtook me once again. Where was I? What’s going on? The darkness slowly subsided, as a dim light filled the room, bringing with it the realization of my situation. A small sob escaped my lips.

I was being held captive in a small stone cellar. A damp smell pervaded every inch of the place. The walls and ceiling were covered in moss which had taken root in the cracks. I could just make out the dim outline of leaky pipes overhead, transversing the ceiling. There was no furniture, nor any amenities. A dirty old mattress was thrown haphazardly into the corner of the room. It reeked of mold and was filled with hard lumps.

The only entrance or exit to the cellar was the steel door. I noticed a small service hatch, constructed near the bottom of the door, had been opened. It was less than a foot high, and a few feet wide. The hinges were worn and rusty from time.

I sat motionless, staring at the hatch. My thoughts were racing, trying to figure out what to do next. After several agonizing minutes of silent contemplating, I stood. Despite my terror, I carefully placed one foot in front of the other, cautiously making my way toward the opening. Cool air rushed through the gap. With each step forward, I grew braver, stronger, and more hopeful.

“Hello?” I called out in a frightful whisper. “Anybody there?” I called out again, with a slightly louder tone. I received no answer.

“Is anybody there? Please help me!” My mind raced with the implications of my situation. There had to be somebody somewhere! There had to be. Maybe I could escape!

I reached one arm through the hatch, followed by my shoulder, attempting to press through. The sharp edges of the door dug painfully into my skin as I tried to contort myself through the opening. I gritted my teeth against the pain, knowing I risked getting stuck, but I didn't care at that moment. I wouldn't give up on my chance of freedom. Only when I felt a trickle of blood down my arm, did I pull myself back into the cellar, letting out a defeated sigh. It's impossible. I was hopelessly trapped.

I walked to the corner of the cellar, my legs wobbly and weak, slumping down onto the mattress. I pulled my jacket tightly around myself to block out the cold. Tears stung my eyes. My desperate mind tried to convince whatever logic I had left, that I could still escape through the hatch.

The sound of footsteps broke through my dark mood. Did I hear correctly? Is someone out there?

“Who’s there?” I called out apprehensively. “I know you can hear me. Let me go.”

The steps stop. I waited anxiously. After a brief pause, they started walking toward the entrance of the cellar. I let out a cry of hope as my heart began hammering away within my chest. As they get closer, my hopes deflate, leaving only a feeling of panic. They stopped outside the entryway.

I held my breath.

A few seconds later, a metal dinner tray appeared through the service hatch. On the tray, I could see a few pieces of dry bread, an apple, and a cup of water. A pair of dark green eyes glowed like embers beyond the tray, on the other side of the hatch. They beckoned me forward, willing me to take the food.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I demanded with a strength I did not know I had in me. My voice didn't sound so afraid anymore. It sounded rather confident, even commanding.

The eyes glared at me, daring me to refuse the food.

“What do you want?” I screamed angrily this time. “Why are you doing this?” The words fell from my lips in rapid succession without pause, causing them to flinch. “Why are you taking everything from me? I have a family, friends, a life.”

The expression in those eyes shifted rapidly from annoyance to confusion, then back to anger. The owner of those eyes started pulling the tray back through the opening.

“Stop!” I blurted out, popping up from the mattress, and quickly approached the hatch.

I grabbed the hands before they could lift the tray, holding them tight so they couldn't move. The eyes glared down at our interlocked hands, their expression morphed from anger to confusion. The hands struggled, causing the water on the dinner tray to slosh about, but my grip was too strong, preventing any chance for a quick exit.

“Do you know why I am here?” I pleaded. I knew I sounded hysterical, but I was not sure how to control the torrent of emotions flowing within me.

I could tell by the look in those eyes that they thought I was crazy. The hands continued struggling against my grip while the owner muttered in a male voice, “Don’t make them hurt you…” I could hear a hint of pleading in his voice.

“Them?” I asked. “Who is ‘them’? You mean those men who brought me here?”

Before he could answer my question, I could hear the distant sound of footsteps approaching. The man turned from me, his hands now shaking with fear. When he turned back to me, he had tears in his eyes, his anger replaced with desperation. I released his hands in confusion. He took that opportunity to grab the tray and hastily retreated through the hole. The hatch slammed shut with a deafening crash, cutting off the light that had illuminated the cellar.

In the pitch blackness, I stumbled over my own two feet, barely able to navigate my way to the mattress. I put my face in my hands, crying silently. How did this become my life? How was I going to survive this nightmare? My sobs were only interrupted by the loud grumble coming from my stomach. I felt hunger gnawing away at my insides.

I desperately wanted something to eat. The thought of the food on the metal dinner tray made my mouth water. I didn't even know how long it'd been since I last ate something. Why didn't I just take the food? I was such a fool.

It was an impulse, not rational thinking. If I was to survive here, if I was to escape, I needed to think clearly, and not let my emotions take over.

I rolled over on my side, drawing my knees up to my chest. I closed my eyes, and as I did, I could hear the sound of scurrying overhead, tiny toes tapping on metal, and the sound of chittering. I knew there were rats up there. I couldn't see them, but they could see me. Their beady eyes stared at me from the darkness.

I pulled my jacket tightly around myself for protection from whatever was hiding in the darkness. I tried to ignore my hunger. I tried to forget the rats. Instead, I let my mind wander to other things. Like... the book I was reading in English class. I wondered if Mr. Rouke was thinking about his missing copy. I imagined Brianna waiting for my promised call, a call I would never be able to make. And most of all, I thought of my family.

What were they doing right now? Were they okay? Were they looking for me? Had the police visited them, promising they would do everything to find me, while secretly assuming I was already dead?

I can picture my mom crying as she spoke to the police, begging them to find me, to bring her little girl home. She would never believe I was dead. Never. My dad would be devastated, accepting the worst. He would never voice his opinions though, wanting to keep my mom's hope alive. My brother, Seth, would be caught in the middle of it all. He would grow to resent our parents, as they became increasingly consumed by their loss, forgetting about him in the process. Would he resent me too?

I shook my head as tears slipped from underneath my lashes. How could I live with myself knowing that they were suffering because of me? If I had just listened, this never would have happened. I was the one always getting into trouble, always making bad choices, thinking I knew best.

"I'm sorry Mom and Dad," I sobbed quietly into the darkness. "And I'm sorry Seth."

I lay there for a while. I don't know if I was trying to sleep or simply resting, but eventually, I drifted off to sleep. Dreams swirled in my mind.