By Val Fish, Val Chapman, Jane Pobgee, and Wendy Fletcher
Here is Chapter 2 in the writing group’s excellent Round Robin story, Time. This Chapter was written by Val Chapman.
Chapter 2 – Val Chapman
There used to be two of us here.
I can remember a girl. She was here before me and through my drug fuelled haze, I tried to talk to her, find out who she was, who had imprisoned us here, and why?
I had so many unanswered questions.
I never had a reply, she had just sat on the floor, knees pulled up to her chin and when she did lift her head I could see her tear stained face. Dirty, and with a look that once I imagine was defiance, but now was just defeat.
I could almost smell it on her.
Of course I had no idea how long she had been here, wherever ‘here’ was.
Jesus Christ, I had no idea how long I had been here, but I would make damned sure it won’t be for much longer.
I had discovered something about myself being here.
Fear makes me bloody determined and angry.
I woke up one morning? afternoon? and I was on my own.
The girl had gone.
I had heard nothing and had no idea when, how, or why she had been taken away.
More fear gripped me and I shivered, not just with the cold, as my stomach twisted and churned.
I would be next.
I forced the fog in my head to clear. My life depended on it.
Moving as far as my chains would allow me, I shuffled across towards the spot where the girl had been.
Maybe, hope upon hope, she had left a clue or something which could help me to get out of here.
His footsteps sound on the stone floor on the other side of the door and I quickly scuttle back to ‘my’ place.
The bastard unlocks the door and comes in with another tray. The last thing I want to do is eat it, but I have to keep my strength up if I’m going to get out of here.
And I will.
I try to smile at him.
Maybe I can fool him into letting his guard down if he thinks I am friendly.
I say “try”, but my mouth is so dry my lip sticks to my teeth.
Still, he seems to accept it, and slides the tray in my direction.
He stands, arms folded, and looks at me.
He says nothing, just watches me for an uncomfortable few minutes, then picks up the disgusting bucket and leaves.
Who is he?
I try not to think about what he wants with me. If it is just for a ransom then I hope it gets paid soon.
There is still a small amount of watery light coming through the window and I take my chance to look around for something, anything I could use to get the hell out.
I had almost given up when I spotted something.