Chapter 11

I scratch and punch at the door until my fingernails are bleeding and barley there. The room is pitch black and has no windows. I am hyperventilating. Badly. I am aware that I am not breathing but at this moment I honestly wouldn't mind dying. The darkness presses in on me and I find it difficult to tell if my eyes are open or closed. Shapes start to appear In the gloom and I cry out, wanting more than anything to die, to be dead and free of this hell. What seems like hours later, a familiar voice sounds from the other side of the door. The son. “Hey, I'm gonna need you to calm down for me. Breathe deeply: In. Hold. Out. Look, I'm here now you're okay. You're okay.” I hear his voice waver. I know he's risking his life for me right now but it's helping to calm me down. “Can you come in?” I ask, my voice raspy and sore to choke out after all that screaming. “I'm trying. My Father's going to find out I'm gone soon though.”

“Call the police!” I hiss, praying that he doesn't come back anytime soon. “I can't, Father cut off all of the phone lines. I'm close to picking the lock.” The thought that I might be seeing him soon fills me with relief. I hear a click and then light spills into the room. I shield my eyes as the bright light bores into my unadjusted eyes. I collapse into the son's arms and sob. He holds me, though it doesn't surpass me that he is anxiously darting his eyes around, looking for any sign of him. “What's your name? Your real one I mean. I'm Kaleb.” Kaleb asks. I'm glad to finally be able to put a name to him. “Jasmine.” I reply, enjoying the sound of my real name for once. “Jasmine, take these. I can't keep you out here for long or he'll find us. Stay in there, he'll come and check on you in a few days.” He hands me a torch, some food and three water bottles. I know that he has probably gone hungry just for me. “How long have I been in there?” I ask, curious. “Just over two days.” Kaleb Replies, and I am surprised by that answer. So I retreat back into the hell hole of a room, wanting to do anything else but this. “Thank you.” I whisper as the door closes once more. The hyperventilating starts up once again, but I remind myself that I have a torch now. And food. And water. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.