Searching for a reason.
It took a while until I had calmed down, until the tears had stopped flowing and my breath had grown slow and steady. I had freaked out. Logical reaction upon finding yourself locked up in a room that looked like a prison. But now it was time to recollect my thoughts and weigh my options.
I got up and yanked at the door handle. In my initial state of shock I hadnÂ´t even thought of checking if the thing was locked. You wake up in a room that you certainly havenÂ´t laid down to sleep in, makes it hard to keep your thoughts all clear and reasonable. My pulling didnÂ´t have the slightest effect. It didnÂ´t even produce the faintest noise that could have led me to assume that the door was moving just a tiny bit. I set my feet closer to the metal and yanked with all my might, stemming my feet into the ground, which allowed me to use my entire weight to pull open the door. It was no use. It must have been blocked with a heavy bolt on the outside.
Then it struck me. I felt my jeans for my sidekick. Not in my back pockets, not in the front ones either. Ok, the chances had been slim but I wouldÂ´ve been a fool if I hadnÂ´t checked.
I walked over to the mirror and took a look at my face. Had I worn eyeliner, it would have been smeared all over my cheeks. I swept my hands from my nose over my cheeks to try to get rid of the dampness from the tears. My face wasnÂ´t really turgid though and my eyes didnÂ´t have the familiar red tint to them that I had observed so many times after I had given free rein to my feelings in the past. Feelings that manifested themselves as salty teardrops.
I sat down on the bed, crossing my legs Indian style on the mattress. For how long had I been in here? There was no way I could have known how long I had slept on the bed. If I had been put on sleeping pills or similar kinds of drugs I could have been out for maybe even a day or longer. I have experience with these kinds of things.
How long had I been awake? An hour maybe. Or longer? I really couldnÂ´t say. All I could do was wait. Eventually somebody had to check up on me. What use was it kidnapping me if they let me die in here? They wouldnÂ´t be getting any ransom for a dead body. That was if it was money that they were after. In that case my tormentor or tormentors could have been almost anybody. Anybody without any scruples when it came to cashing in.
That was one option. Ransom. Another one, of course, was getting revenge. Thing is, when youÂ´re famous, you need to be really careful who you hang out with. ItÂ´s difficult enough to keep your old friends. Making new ones, friends - not simply people who want to benefit from your status - now, thatÂ´s virtually impossible. If this person had no interest in money they would probably do anything with me. If this was just about getting even, there were no limits to the horrors that could await me.
I couldnÂ´t think of anyone who I had pissed off so severely that they would want to have me caged like this. Then again, my brain couldnÂ´t account for all the twisted motherfuckers out there who possibly thought I had done them wrong. Because sometimes, sometimes you donÂ´t even have to actively do something to upset somebody. When youÂ´re famous like me, I mean. For instance, you say you think this or that person is cool and somebody else will be offended. ItÂ´s the most ridiculous things that tick some people off. The publicÂ´s constantly having its eyes on you, on every move you make, every syllable you utter. YouÂ´re bound to do something that others may find offensive, thereÂ´s just no way around it.
Yet, I wasnÂ´t aware of having committed anything that justified my current situation. So I decided to place that possibility at the very end of my list. This left me with the obsessed fan explanation. Some crazed fan girl, or more likely, a group of them, had managed to drag me in here and now they wanted to keep me all to themselves. In comparison to other bands out there I keep pretty close ties to our fanbase. I post regularly on various websites, talk to some kids via instant messengers on the internet. We even have these special get-togethers for the fanclub kids. ItÂ´s insane really, but it pays off in the end.
Crazy ransom money-hungry bastard or crazy celebrity-loving fan/ fans. These were the chances.
Whoever they were, theyÂ´d come in here to bring me something to eat and drink sooner or later. Or just something to drink maybe. I was neither hungry not thirsty. I can go a hell of a long time without food.
All of a sudden the TV went on.
At first it was just flimmering, like before. Then I could make out two people on the screen. I got up from the bed and made my way to the TV set.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
Thanks be to Crystal for expanding my vocab ("turgid") and entertaining me throughout the better part of last night with her craziness. (14... plus a few mentions of that in this chapter)