Page 6 of Creep
My fingers tremble, breath coming faster as I listen to the dwindling footsteps, but even when I can no longer hear him, thefear of breaking some unnamed rule keeps me still. At least until something in me snaps, and I push up the blindfold.
It is a cave, all right—windowless, with rock for the ceiling—but also, somehow… a bedroom. The light comes from under two silk lampshades which seem like something an old lady would buy, not the demonic creature who’s abducted me.
Heat flushes my cheeks as I stare at the thick Turkish-style rug covering the floor. It overlaps with another one farther on, red and golden, but I’m puzzled to see more of those traditional carpets hung on the walls like tapestries in a Soviet apartment. I once read the wool makes for good insulation from the cold, but I still fail to understand why go through all the effort of making a cavern liveable when one could move into a house?
Unless this man is wanted. On the run from the police, or one of those people who disappeared and wants to never be found again. But if that’s the case then why… why would he take me?
The answer is obvious, and it makes me shake all over as I wiggle my hands, trying to loosen the rope tying them together. It doesn’t take me long to realize that my captor didn’t make the knots difficult to unravel. He wanted me to free myself. Soon enough, I’m as free as I can be, with the soggy gag out of my mouth at last.
The cave is the size of four rooms, the ceiling is high, and it smells of the stone walls, old books, but also of… chocolate? Cocoa? Even the bed I’m sitting on is an absurd choice for a place like this. The frame is sturdy, the intricately carved headboard worn smoother by age. Above it hangs an unsettling (in these circumstances) whimsical Victorian painting of four child angels shepherding a black wolf.
The wardrobe nearby is an antique, but it must have been brought in here in pieces going by how crudely it's been put together. A comfy armchair with worn upholstery sits next to three bookshelves filled to the brim, and several stacks of bookscrowd the floor, as if awaiting additional storage. A cup stands on the coffee table next to them. So… he’s a reader? Okay. Maybe we can bond over that while I plot my escape.
As I walk around, I realize the smell comes from chocolate-scented candles placed in a few jars around the room. I also come across a terrarium filled with moss and mushrooms. It’s quite pretty, but when something moves inside it, I decide to keep my distance. My abductor seems like just the kind of man who’d keep a pet spider.
It doesn’t take me long to also find a letter left for me on a small table.
"I need to go deal with things. Rest. I will provide you with food tomorrow. Don't try to run away. Even if you did manage to force the door, it would be VERY dangerous for you out there. Restroom is behind the green door.
Sorry."
Like that fucking explains anything.
Chapter 4
Angel
Ihavenoideahow and when I fell asleep, but when I wake up to the sight of uneven brown rock above, terror penetrates every bone and muscle in my body. I shift, and all of a sudden I tumble from the mattress, onto the rug-covered floor. The dense layer of woven wool cushions my fall to a degree, but my shoulder and thigh still end up hurting as I sit with my back against the tall bed and take in the exact same view I closed my eyes to.
But when was it? Did I take a twenty-minute nap or sleep through the night? Worse yet, what if that weirdo came in once I dozed off and somehow put me to sleep for an unidentifiedamount of time? What if it’s been days, and he’s been watching me, smelling me… licking me?
I shudder, pulling my knees to my chest as I recall the rough first few hours of my captivity here. As I grew certain my captor wasn’t coming back anytime soon, I threw myself into a vain search for a way out, but the only door was reinforced with steel and wouldn’t budge even when I threw my whole body weight at it. On the upside, there’s an eco-toilet behind the green door, like the note promised, and it works surprisingly well. I also found bottles of water, canned coffee, two jars of old-fashioned candy, and a screwdriver I plan to use as my weapon, if push comes to shove.
It does seem that this place is really my abductor’s home, not a cell created to house me after he spent two years stalking me. Which does make me think he only took me with him because I witnessed the murder. As awful as that is, it promises wiggle room. Were he a ruthless psycho, he would have killed me already. Of course, he could just be a ruthless psycho who happens to have a sweet spot for licking my cum, which would thennotbode well.
But if the abduction, and even killing Adam was not something he’d meticulously planned, then the only logical conclusion is that he attacked Adam to… protect me? After all, he must have heard what was going on from under the bed.
Why the fuck was he there in the first place though, remains a mystery.
Maybe now that I’ve gotten some sleep in, I’ll be able to find a way to escape that didn’t occur to me last night? If thisishis home, then it won’t be locked the way a cell would be.
My soul longs for my tarot deck with cards worn at the edges and yellowed from age, but it’s probably still in my bag, which I left on the table as soon as I reached home.
Goddamn it.
I touch my necklace, which miraculously still sits around my neck. It’s brass on a leather tie, with several small crystals embedded on symbolic planetary rings. I got it from the owner of the Celestial Cavern, who claimed someone lost it in her store over a year prior. One of the best gifts I ever got, and I treat it as my good-luck charm.
If I still have it on me… maybe there’s a chance my life isn’t headed for a tragic end?
On the table where I found the letter last night awaits me an entire breakfast spread, including boiled eggs that are still warm and a thermos of fresh coffee that smells divine. I could of course be about to bite into a poisoned croissant, but my captor surely wouldn’t go through all the trouble of kidnapping me just to kill me in such a hands-off way. I know he’s got it in him to snap someone’s neck…
I lose my appetite when I recall the blood on his face, the lamp turning Adam’s head to mush with every blow.
But then the smell of fresh toast hits me, and I regain my appetite. Adam was a shit stain. He got what he deserved, didn’t he? I make a mental note to tell my captor I don’t eat red meat when I spot the bacon, but I’m very happy to put lashings of maple syrup over my pancakes. The amount of food does make me wonder whether I’m being fattened up for slaughter, but joke’s on him, I've got the metabolism of a hummingbird.
The food looks homemade. Did he cook it for me himself? There’s no space for a kitchen here, that’s for sure.
Invigorated by my breakfast, I go on to scream for help. I yell into crevices, I stomp my feet. Though I’m careful not to damage anything, since I don’t want to risk him taking revenge on me for it.
