that just ended up hurting them. Newer positions, more ways out. I kept bumping into the wall each time I moved, because of me, the top shelf was wiggling and I didn't even notice. Then something dropped.
Just missed me too—by an inch or so. It was a notebook, a red one. Very large, appeared new too. I scooted myself to it, grasping it with my wrists. Awkward, having to tackle after it. I eventually snagged it, pulling it in my mouth so I could let my hands free. I dropped it on my lap (and coincidentally) it opened to the first page. I read the title aloud:
“Everyone is dying—no way to escape your death. Face it rather than running from it. Only way out is the way you came from. Absolutely nothing?” There was no confusion at the end, but I myself found it questioning anyway. Eric was more demented than he led on.
That was the only thing on the paper. And, by the looks of the notebook, there seemed to be nothing else written inside. I sighed loudly, making sure I was still alive. Or maybe this is just some creepy dream—no. Wait, it's not. Whenever one actually considers something a dream, it’s reality. When in dreams have I been wondering if I was dreaming? I've had a dream in a dream once….
The door downstairs unlocked, conversation going on between two people. Oh good, Eric was back. Or maybe oh shoot, Eric was back. I hated being in here.
The door creaked, followed by the clicking sound of the closet door. The bright light killed my eyes when it opened.
He immediately gazed down at the red notebook, saying harshly, “Did you read it?”
I eyed him, politely replying, “Oh was I not suppose to?”
He snatched if from the ground as if in seconds I was going to be able to steal it. “Do. Not. Read. This.” He emphasized each word.
“I'm sorry? It fell.”
“How?”
I looked for words. “I tried to find a comfortable sitting position.” I didn't really lie. “I bumped the wall a little. Inevitable.” I glanced in his eyes, his glare terrifying, but softened. He wasn't mad at all. At that moment, I felt the need to go. “I have a question,” I said aloud.
“Shoot.” He said.
“I need to pee.” I said, keeping a straight face, which is totally hard for me to do. Whenever anyone utters the word ‘pee’ I burst out laughing.
Eric's eyes shot up. “I forgot about that.”
“And a shower?” Before he said anything I added, “How about a change of clothes. And don't forget I'm a girl, I have a menstrual cycle—depending on how long your keeping me.” I finished, feeling my face get hot. I’m not too big on talking about girl stuff.
“Are you going to have it…uh…anytime soon?” I could tell he wasn’t either.
“Uh…” I paused, thinking it over, “Not until a couple of days actually.”
He nodded. “We'll worry about that when the time comes, then. So do you really need to use the bathroom?”
I bobbed my head, “And take a shower. I take a shower every day.” I smiled pathetically. He laughed. He said that his mom was out at work now so there was no one in the house (from which I assumed anyway).
“How am I supposed to take a shower,” I asked, motioning towards the ropes around my ankles and wrists.
He took note of that. “Only when you need to,” He first untied the ankle rope, allowing me to walk freely. I could have (and really considered) running away right then and there. I could have ran, screamed, made it out the door, and had the neighbors help.
But I didn't do any of that. Instead I obeyed his orders, the ones he first gave to me: Don't scream.
Eric led me to his small bathroom and took the ropes off of my wrists. The colors schemes in the bathroom were blue, white and gray. It consisted of hand towels neatly folded on the bars near the door and a couple of white towels folded on the metallic shelf above the toilet. His bathroom had the shower head/bathtub combination.
I turned to Eric before he left. “I don't have a change of clothes.”
He didn't seem at all surprised by my news. He said, “No, you have a change of clothes.” And he pulled out a familiar bag I remember leaving in my bedroom closet. It appeared rather bloated.
“When did you get this?” He set it on the counter.
“Last night.” He said.
I looked down, trying to find a sentence. “A lot of things happened last night, huh?” He didn't answer, just stared into my eyes, which created more nervous tension. I can never look at anyone in the eyes for too long. People always think I'm lying to them, but it's only because of their unpleasant glares that make me look away.
“I'll be outside the door.” He left me alone in a bright room, at least. So I peed, took a shower, and Eric brought my toothbrush in the bag. How nice of him, I thought sourly. “I'm ready,” As I'll ever be.
He ambled inside, cautious, making sure I was decent. I brushed and dried my hair at the same time, but I knew it wasn't going to look great. Not without a hair straightener at least.
I noticed when he came in, that he changed his clothes. That must mean there had been a point in time where he left the bathroom door unattended. It’s those golden opportunities that I never think through and past me right by. So much for my escape.
I wore a yellow t-shirt with a new pair of jeans. It must have been weird, going through my stuff. In fact, I feel weird. Knowing that he picked through my clothes, even down to the underwear! Strange. Who does that?
“I thought you were ready.”
I smiled a little. “Girl's never ready I guess.”
I was back in his closet, roped and all to my displeasure. Eric left the closet door opened, and I scooted to the entrance edge. He sat on his desk at his laptop.
“You got a Mac,” I asked. Mac's were like the best computers in my opinion. So pretty and flashy but too pricy. Eric was one to not seem to care about that.
“My mom got it for me.” He shrugged. Yeah, he didn't care. Such a shame though. That laptop would look so nice in my room. Perhaps I should steal that and run away. The thought made me smirk.
Eric was clanking away on his computer when my stomach roared to life. He paused abruptly, that only made more self-conscious.
“You hungry,” He asked.
“Yes,” I said in a small voice.
He closed his laptop and headed out his room. In a couple of moments, he came back in with a big bag of chips, two sandwiches, and drinks.
He stopped, “You're not the vegetarian, right?” He pointed with the sandwich in his hand.
“That's Janaki.” He sat the food down I had to grab it with both of my hands again.
“Right,” He said, and took a handful of chips in his hand.
I took a large bit out of my sandwich. It tasted amazing. Turkey was my favorite, and it only tasted better with mayo. He must have heard my moans; his eyebrows rose.
“My turkey sandwiches are that good?”
I just nodded, not wanting to talk with my mouth full. After I gulped it down I said, “Delicious.”
7. DISCOVER
The next couple of days Eric went to school, leaving me behind in his locked up closet. I was astonished that he went to school. That he actually looked after me and took care of me. I was still unsure of his intentions, but I know he didn’t want me dead, yet.
One Wednesday, I finally got out. Eric didn’t tie up my wrists very well, and they just pulled off. So then I untied my ankles, and was satisfied with this reach. But even that couldn’t keep me happy for too long, since there was still the locked door I had to get through. I tried to think of another way out, but there was nothing in this closet (nothing but clothes anyway). I thought of banging on the door—maybe his mom was here? But I realized that was stupid, his mom works every day, he said so.
Reassuring me that his house was empty, there was no use. Was I really that stupid?
I banged loudly at the door. “SOMONE HELP ME!” If no one, breaking the door was worth a shot. “Please? ANYONE?”
After a while, I quit. Definitely no use at
all. I heard something, scratching from the other side of Eric's door. There was a bit of whining too, then a bark. Eric had a dog? The bedroom door was opened a crack and the dog eventually pushed it. I got a good look through the door; it appeared to be a Beagle.
A cute little Beagle too. It was white, but had a huge layer of brown covering its body. Then it also had black spots over the brown. Huge ears, black eyes. Adorable.
I whistled for it, but I sucked at whistling. It heard me and came my way anyway, only the door between us. It scratched at the door now.
“Oh,” I said, seeing it struggle. “Aren't you just a sweetie pie?”
It wagged its tail now, barking at the door. It needed to know what was behind it. I hushed it down, keeping him quiet. There's no use to getting all worked up to spend hours just jumping up at a door.
The dog listened to me, defeated, but circled around twice to lie next to the door.
The grandfather clock, somewhere in the house, struck three. I heard the front entrance bust open, stomping up the stairs, and the door creaking more as the dog jumped up.
“Frankie?” He said, surprised.
“Frankie?” I said too.
“How'd you get out of your room,” He said, petting Frankie's ears. But Frankie rushed through the greeting, scratching at the closet again. That little dog was so determined.
Eric unlocked it and Frankie ran inside, sniffing me like crazy. I pet him carefully then he started licking my hand.
“Likes you.” Eric smiled, and then frowned. “You untied the rope.”
“Huh,” I looked down at my hands. “Oh, yeah,” I