He Took Me

Cassandra was taken. Taken from her safe and beloved home. Taken to a dark endless pitt of nothing. He took her. She knew him. And he took her. Her last thoughts are of the ones she love.
He took her.
And for that, she hates him.


1. I hate him.

He took me. And for that, I hate him. He took me from what I loved and knew; what I now yearn for. He snatched me from long and sweaty summers, where my tongue would be forever stained with berries. He stole me from cold, unforgiving winters that I would spend curled up next to the fireplace, a sweet marshmallow melting in my mouth. He took my life out of my tight grasp and he tore it apart into shreds of dust.

Perhaps, if you look at it methodically, he was very clever. He left no trace, no footsteps and no evidence, making the whole thing my fault. Telling me to come with him, making sure I left an 'I'll be back soon, I promise!' -note. It was the perfect crime.

To the police it would just sound like a classic runaway letter. To them I was just a moany teenager who was fed up with her boring life and needed a change of scenery. Except only two people know that I'm not. Only two people know that I loved my life and I would never leave it. One of them is me. The other one is my captor.

And for that, I hate him.

The room I now suffer in is dark. It's a vortex of endless black space, no one, nowhere...nothing. Yet I feel trapped, like I am a lion contained within a cage. I need to be free. I need to be able to see myself, to see that I still...actually...exist. I'm not sure if I'm real anymore, this just feels like a permanent dream, going on and on like an old record. However, if I pinch myself I won't wake up. I never do. No matter how much biting or scratching I do, the nightmare never stops. Defeated, I collapse onto the hard floor, curling myself up into the tightest ball I can, blocking out all the air, leaving nothing but my warm heavy breaths on my goosebumped arm.

I wanted to live. Once upon a time, I did. That sounds like a fairytale story now, so silly and unrealistic. Now, I feel so helpless. Now with no food, no water, no light, now I have lost my will to live. Now I just want the darkness to envelope me, to devour me, to take me anywhere else, just not here. Please, not here.


"Cassandra...". I jolt awake at the familiar sound of my name.

"Cassandra...". The voice is like an echoed whisper...soft and eerie.

"Cass...aaandrraaa....". This time my name is emphasised, the 'a's pronounced long and the 'r' rolled. I shiver. The way my name is said, it's horrible. Undescribable, like someone is announcing your death. I pray for the voice to stop, for the silence to come back. And suddenly it's like a million voices together this time, all out of sync, repeating my name again and again, until I can take it no more.

"STOP!" I scream, silencing the voices. They stop, allowing my heart to stay in my chest.

Trembling with fear, I pray to God that he will let someone find me. Let the police, my family, a decent stranger find me and bring me home. Because if not, if not...I dare not to think if not. What he will do. Now, what they might do. I find myself repeating the same three words continuously: "Please, please no. Please, please no." And for the first time since my kidnapping, I find myself crying. Not because of what they will do, but because of my sister. What she thinks of me, her older, so called 'responsible' sister. Her high-pitched, princess-toned voice will be constantly asking where I am, what I'm doing, if I'm thinking of her. "Yes", they would tell her, holding back salty tears. "Yes, she will always be thinking of you". I hardly ever did, but now, ironically, I am. With her beautiful face pictured in my head, I stand up and scream. I scream louder than I have ever done. I scream for what I love and what I hate and how much I want to go home. I scream for him to release me from this torturous pitch-black chamber.

I scream because I hate him.

Eventually, when I have finished, I hear a creak. Like a prison cell's door opening, ready for the criminal to be released. Finally. And I almost smile when I see a sliver of light. And then a whole beam of light, a doorway of light, ready for me. Except, he's there. With a smug grin on his face, beckoning me. He isn't here to let me go. I know that for sure.

And for that, I hate him.

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