Gerard wakes up to something unfamiliar.
I think it's a basement. There are no windows, but I see stairs leading up to a closed door. My hands are free, but one of my legs has a thick rope tethering it to the leg of a metal bed. I'm in my familiar black jeans and Misfits t-shirt, but my shoes and socks are missing, as is my watch.
The I look up. Dark and brooding, the man stands above me. A cold look in his eyes, contradicted by a warm smile on his face. He holds my cell phone in his hand, his fingers tracing the company logo absentmindedly.
Petrified that this stranger knows my name, and is holding me captive, I leap backwards. But the rope prevents me moving far. Fear rushes through my body, and I freeze.
"Relax I won' hurt you." He says. He chucks the phone behind him, and I wince as I hear it smash.
"No need for your cell here Gerard." He whispers deviously. He advance forward and I cower against to bed's headboard. I see instant food packets lined up on the floor, along with a microwave and several litre bottles of water. There are two pairs of jeans, underwear and some t-shirts on a small table and a toilet against a wall on the opposite side of the room. The whole thing seems so carefully planned, so contrived.
Fear grips me once again. I'm gonna be here a while. Then I feel a rush of warmth in my pants, and I look down. Blushing furiously, I realise I've wet myself.
"Shit." I mutter, finally finding my voice.
The man eyes me sympathetically, and then motions to the underwear. "There there Gerard. Happens to everyone at somepoint in their lives."
He seems like he's trying to initiate conversation, but I stay mute, not wanting to accept that this situation is real. I almost laugh when I realise how cliched this situation is: the guy held hostage in the basement whilst his dangerous tormentor inflicts horrible tortures on him in the most gruesome way possible.
"I meant what I said." He announce calmly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I won't derive any pleasure from hurting you; I don't want you to die. I won't do anything you don't like."
"Except tether me up in your basement?!" I snarl, not wanting him to continue talking in his sickenly sweet and manipulative voice. "What kind of a psychopath does this?" I demand, balling my fists slightly. I see a flash of anger pass through his eyes, but then he masks it and gathers his composure. "Gerard. I'm not a psycho." He says patronisingly. "I'll let you off the rope so you can get some food, maybe clean yourself up a bit."
He advances on me, and I scream in terror. "Fuck off you psycho! Leave me alone!"
He halts. "I said I wasn't a psycho. It's best if you believe me."
"Psycho. I snarl. I don't know why I want to annoy him when he's my only means of getting set free. I jsut want him to know I won't be kept complacent easily.
"But Gerard." He says, his voice oozing sweetness. "I'm not a psycho.A psycho would do this."
He walks to the other side of the room, and slowly up the stairs. I watch him open the door, and see natural light strainging to infiltrate the artificially lighted basement. His finger runs along the edge of the lightswitch, and with a jolt of fear, I realise that he's planning on leaving. Even the idea of being alone terrifies me.
"No!" I cry out. "I don't mean it!"
He turns and grins at me. "I'mSorry Gerard. I really am. But you have to learn to be good and to trust me. I will return."
His finger pushes down on the switch, like he's pulling the trigger on my life, and the light flickers, and then is gone. All is left is a small beam of light cascading down from the open door. I see the man's silhouette in the doorway, shaking his head. Then he walks out and slams the door shut. The lock clicks and his footsteps fade away.
A scream of pure fear is torn from my throat. "NO!! Come back!" I'm bucking around on the bed, trying to make as much noise as possible. The rope is too short for me to be able to get off the bed.
"Please! Please don't do this!" I cry, as tears stream down my face and snot clogs my nose.
But he's obviously gonem and doesn't plan on returning for a while. My throat is now hoarse from screaming, so I resign myself to curling up into the foetal position on the bed, my pants wet and my eyes sore from all the anguished tears I've cried so desperately.
A/N: R&R appreciated, next part will follow soon. xo, han.