The Silence That Surrounds

Sophia’s POV:

The tiredness I felt when my eyes opened again was indescribable. The memories of last night weren’t lost and made consciousness that much harder to give anything for oblivion again.

I groaned, the silence screaming as loud as the first time. I hated silence, I hated the helplessness and the fear. I didn’t understand what was going on. Was it even about my father? He did look worried when I left him and he did tell me to stay in despite the weather being no more ghastly than normal.

Something was truly odd about this whole situation.

I gagged, my mouth soaked dry from the cloth. There seemed to be no ounce of saliva to be found and swallowing was nearly impossible.

Closing my eyes for a brief second to turn a listening ear to the door, I found that everything was unmoving and still as it had ever been.

I winced trying to clear my throat, everything hurt. My wrists, my head, the aching muscles held prisoner in one position for so long.

I screamed out into the room to try and catch attention but the only thing that sounded was a cackled cry, dying a second in my throat as fast as it came, barely carrying past my own ears.

With no choice but to lay there, I complied. Certainly not by my own choice and not having control was maddening, especially when it was over my own self.

The minutes ticked by into what seemed like hours, where time had no meaning and all you could focus on was pain. My wrists were bruised, probably nothing in contrast to my ego. I felt weak. Both physically and mentally. My father would be disappointed – I think he would. When in business he taught me how to put on a poker face, how to bluff your cards while revealing your true hand at the same time. He was complex and firm but loving toward me in the mature sense. I certainly haven’t been acting professional, not where bluffing your feelings are concerned. He would show me if he had been here with me. I know he would. Sadly, I didn’t have him to hold my hand, I was on my own.

I turned my head glancing to the opposite side, I found the only other furniture in the room aside from the bed were two night stands and a chair on the opposite side close to the window. If I hadn’t been chained down I could have leant forward and touched the chair with ease.

Looking at the window it had a wide mouthed window seal, perfect for sitting and glancing outward – if this had been a normal room. It certainly didn’t seem so with the fact that I was in here against my will.

Before my mind could overthink things I heard my door open, a different boy was walking in this time, carrying a tray.

He had the most intense honey brown eyes I had ever seen. They were a warm pool of deep mystery and danger, which I took as a warning. His black hair was slicked back and his mouth planted in a firm frown. The color of his light tanned skin lit a slight glow in the weak rays of light coming in through the window. It had to of been about mid-day.

“Good afternoon Ms. Stone.” He nodded and came forth, setting the flimsy metal on the nightstand.

For a moment I could only stare up silently, waiting.

He sat down on the bed and twisted so he was facing me, his hands going beneath my head and untying the cloth that held my mouth silent.

With a thankful gasp, the cloth was out and l could finally pull in adequate air, closing my mouth from being left slightly ajar for how many hours it had been forced open.

With the intake of air I was reminded of my painfully dry throat and cleared my throat again, whimpering at the sharp jagged pain.

The boy’s brow tilted up before he saw the warm bottle of uncapped water left over from yesterday. He grabbed it, lifting his hand under my head and leading it up.

I grabbed hold of the water bottle with my teeth and clamped my mouth around it tightly, despite the pain in my jaw my grip didn’t loosen, even as the bottle was tipped, which allowed water to rush down my throat and into my mouth, moisturizing it once more.

I drank until the plastic crunched under my sucking, unlatching my jaw and meeting my other captor’s stare.

“I brought lunch.” He offered, his hands sliding my head back down and going to pick the tray up again, disposing of the empty bottle.

“Who are you? How many of you are there?” I asked, my voice gravelly from the gag and forced sleep. I never felt so drained in my whole life.

“I’m Zayn. You already met the others.” He answered vaguely.

“Why am I here? What do you want from me? Why so many of you?!” I demanded, although it was a weak command and Zayn seemed like he wasn’t even the slightest bit concerned.

“You’re a high profile case, Ms. Stone.” Zayn replied, ignoring my second question completely. Instead he balanced the tray on his lap, picking the spoon up from the bowl and placed his hand below to catch any spare droplets of liquid.

“I’m not hungry! Let me go! I want to know what’s going on!” I yelled, folding in my hand and calling in. There was no bluff, they held the winning hand and I knew it.

Zayn let out a frustrated sigh and dumped the spoon back in the bowl, setting the tray back on the nightstand and standing up, leaving the room without a word.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU FUCKING BASTARDS WANT?!” I screamed, letting my voice raise as loud as it could.

Nothing.

I growled and jerked against the bed in a frustrated rage. I never remembered ever feeling such intense anger.

The door opened and curly green eyes stepped back in.

My struggles ceased, possibly due to the dark scowl and intense contortion of facial muscles to cloud his aura in a deep dark energy that radiated off him like lightening.

He marched forward and slapped his hand over my mouth with a sharp crack, pressing down to trap it with his touch.

“You are being impossible Ms. Stone. You truly are. Do you want us to keep you like this? Huh? I personally don’t feel like having to gag you every time I leave this bloody room but I will if you don’t be quiet! I will keep you here just like this for your remaining time with us if you don’t settle down and stop acting like a fool!” He growled, shaking my head back, releasing his hand and grabbing the bowl and spoon, bringing the metal cutlery to my mouth.

“I don’t want any!” I protested, feeling him grab my hair and yank hard, the warm liquid pouring down my throat.

“You will eat what is served, when it is served. We’re on a schedule Ms. Stone and I won’t have you disrupting that.” He spoke firmly, gripping my hair a little tighter, feeding me another spoon worth, the tomato broth warming my stomach.

“What schedule?! What do you want!?” I exclaimed, hitting my head down on the pillow in exasperation, my hands balling into fists, the action making them press into the now warm metal.

Harry didn’t answer, he simply continued to force feed me the bland and tasteless dish, the broth dripping down my chin and neck. He wasn’t gentle, I could tell by the way his jaded eyes contracted.

“Can you tell me who you are at least?” I begged, choking on the liquid that went down the pipe.

I sputtered and struggled to clear my wind pipe, Harry waiting patiently.

When I finally caught my breath he fished another spoon out and continued.

“Harry.” He finally replied, seeming to maul over even telling me.

“Does your last name happen to be asshole?” I spat hatefully after being able to take in air again.

Harry let go of my hair and set the spoon down, taking the bowl and forcing it to my mouth, pouring quickly.

I let out a gurgled exclamation of shock, the liquid going everywhere. Down my chin, my neck, my chest, the sides of my cheeks.

“Excuse me Ms. Stone, It seems I need to go get myself cleaned up, seeing as you don’t know how to properly eat without making a mess.” He barked, standing up with tomato broth also dripping down his dark blue jeans.

He left me to stare after him, my eyes wide and dark tomato liquid everywhere.

When he said clean up, it was the first time I realized how full my bladder was. I panicked, wondering if they would let me up.

“Wait! I have to pee!” I exclaimed, the door slamming shut without a reply.

I winced at the uncomfortable feeling on my skin, trying best to ignore it.

“What do I do?” I asked the heaviness around me.

No answer came and I was pushed into another bout of despair. Only this time I laid quiet and listened, hoping to hear something – hoping to get answers.

Unfortunately, it was still all the same and I knew that I wouldn’t. Not until they were ready to tell me.

I felt the familiar ache of tears slip down my face, making a trail.

“God help me.” I muttered, the icy embrace of fear held firm in a soul crushing grip.

Notes

Oh man, this chap took a lot out of me but oh man, thanks for the votes!