Little Brid

He came into my life like lightning, a bright bolt uninvited; turning my world upside down with his irrational actions and dimpled grin, his unquenchable desire and eyes the colour of emeralds. And he gave me something I had never had before – a wild adventure and the illusion of freedom. But even then, I had to keep reminding myself, even once falling into the vortex of churning emotions ultimately I had surrendered myself to, that I had no choice.

I was his Little Bird; encaged in his hold.

~*~



“I know enough about you to know that you’d be going home to an empty house, but even when they’re away, they keep you caged up, don’t they Little Bird?” A deep frown creased my brow, worry and confusion and terror leaking into my nerves, an accumulation of varied emotions attacking my senses, sending my mind into a whirlwind of commotion and chaos. I parted my lips to allow the questions and accusations spill, run wild. I wanted to reveal my disgust and curiosity in countless queries as

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3. Chapter 3

I didn’t protest as Harry lifted my petite frame into his arms, knowing that my struggles would be futile and pointless; only increasing the fatigue I felt and wasting what energy remained. I was held bridal style in his arms, secure and tight in his hold.  I sniffed as he carried me, studying my bandaged hand that lay in my lap, again my gaze fixated below me, ensuring that my eyes wouldn’t catch on Harry’s. I wanted to push the question, repeat it and ask why he wasn’t answering me, but I knew better than to be persistent in the presence of someone who I feared, no matter how much I couldn’t deny the curiosity I felt dealt with, not acting on it because I feared the consequences. My lips remained sealed, thoughts and questions kept locked in my mind.

I didn’t lift my head as I was carried out of the room, not as I was carried through the hallway, not as I he carried me down the stairs and not when we reached what I presumed to be his living room.

He placed me on the couch, and instinctively I tucked my legs beneath me, hands fidgeting on my lap, shuffling as far from Harry as I could. I couldn’t witness his expression as he turned and walked into the kitchen, my gaze following him as casually he entered the room joined onto the cone I was currently occupying. My tears had subsided, almost seizing to exist; leaving my eyes sore, bloodshot and red; eyelids wet and heavy. I was dressed in only what I guessed was his t-shirt, showing my bare legs – and then, the realisation stuck me. He had changed me. With my body limp and unconscious, his hands on my bare skin; he could have done anything he wanted and I’d be none the wiser. The hideous thought churned my stomach as I squirmed uncomfortably, resisting the urge to project my vomit over his perfectly clean laminated floor.

Harry returned a few moments later, a glass of water in his hand.

 “Here,” he said quietly, arm outstretched.

Wearily I accepted it, wary or what he could have put in it, whether he was planning to plague my body with more drugs; but with intense eyes burning into my head and my throat incredibly dry, I reluctantly took a small sip. It tasted normal but that didn’t ease my anxiety and paranoia.

 “Are you calm enough so we can talk?” His voice was almost hushed, controlled, as if he was being extra careful not to startle me. But still, in spite of the volume, I considered his tone annoyingly condescending. Nodding my head a little, I frowned internally. Was I being stupid if I believed he was being genuinely nice, or stupid to believe that he was letting me calm down and settle in a little before he released his true inner evil and killed me?

Was the thought ludicrous or did I have every right to be paranoid of my kidnapper’s true intentions?

 “Good. I brought you here, and because this is my home it’s now yours too.”

Oh God. Oh God. I was panicking again, my mind reeling with what I now believed he wanted with me. He was going to have sex with me; I was going to be reduced to nothing more than a sex toy for a complete stranger. My first time would be forced, and God only knew what was going to happen to me afterwards. Would I be forced into the sex slave trade or whatever it was – I didn’t even realize that this sort of thing happened here, maybe that was me being naïve or stupid or both but I never thought that this would happen to me – hell, I wasn’t even pretty enough to be a sex slave!

 “I’m not having sex with you!” I blurted out loudly, his lips halting (I hadn’t even realized that he had been talking). Harry looked shocked at my abrupt outburst, and then a small smile played on his lips, and I didn’t miss the amusement plastered across his features. He seemed truly amused at my distress and immediate assumption.

 “You’re so innocent.” He smirked, but when my expression was distorted with distress and I whimpered he continued.

 “You’re not here for sex, Birdy.” He said, “Do you think I’d go to all this trouble for sex when sex is most definitely not an issue for me.” I didn’t know why he was asking me, maybe he was forgetting that he was a complete stranger/lunatic to me and I had little knowledge about his sex life. I was purposely ignoring the fact he was attractive. The smug tone caused me to frown at his arrogance, but feeling at least a tiny bit relieved at his somewhat reassurance that my virginity would be safe, I forced myself to release the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, even if I had no reason to believe what he had said.

 “Then why?” I asked quietly.

The amusement had faded from his features, emotionless expression plastered to his previously returned hard features. I was beyond bewildered, my head swimming with curiosity that I didn’t necessarily want to allow permission to grant my planted thoughts life, frightened by the answers I may have received. I presumed he was pondering over his answer, maybe he was trying to string together a remotely suitable response that wouldn’t make my heart pound wildly and chest constrict, another panic attack taking over.

He was watching me intently as I took another tiny sip of water, before timidly reaching to the side to place the glass on the cabinet next to me; forcing me to feel subconscious and uncomfortable beneath his intense, heavy stare. I dreaded to think what I looked like; face free of make-up, my pale skin flustered red from the seemingly endless torrents of tears that had tracked my cheeks; white plaster sticking to the right of my forehead, along with my distorted complexion and long hair no doubt tangled and messy.

Harry sat on the couch beside me, possibly making the situation even more uncomfortable as I shuffled into the armchair and ensured the shirt cover as much bare flesh as it could. I turned towards him, wary of what he might do.

 “I saw you, wanted you, and took you. It’s as simple as that.”

His face was impassive, no trace of guilt or regret or remorse passing over his features. He didn’t even have the grace to look disgruntled, causing a surge of irritation and annoyance to course through me, momentarily silencing my escalating fear. Harry, a complete stranger, had taken me from my life and into another. He had most likely sabotaged my chances at university, which, ultimately would convert my mother into a monster just as good as Godzilla; in the process of frightening me to the point I could barely function properly, and yet here he was, freely and casually admitting his unnatural selfishness and carelessness without even the slightest bit of decency to at least looklike he was sorry.

I balled my fists. “You can’t just kidnap people!” I cried, “I mean who does that?! Are you insane, have you even thought about the consequences?! You’ll go to jail for God knows how long, and my mother will literally murder me because she’ll insist that somehow, this whole deluded thing is my fault, that my chances at becoming a stupid bloody lawyer are ruined! Is that what you want, to go to jail and have me killed? Because that’s what’ll happen!” Word vomit, lots and lots of word vomit. I wouldn’t have had the confidence to voice my thoughts and feelings, especially not as I had done, but I was borderline hysterical and once I started, the words continued flowing and I couldn’t clamp my lips shut.

 “I mean, this is ridiculous! This is a joke, right? You’re joking; you’re playing a prank on me. Where are the cameras, because no freaking way is this really happening – no, I refuse to believe it, I just – no. Nope. This sort of thing only happens in movies and as far as I’m concerned my life is way too boring and tragic for someone to make a decent film out of it. So ‘Harry’ – if that is your real name, it’s done. Over.” I may have surpassed the point of being borderline hysterical; now I was the delusional one – words tumbling profusely from my mouth. “I’ve had enough. I’m going home, it was nice while it lasted and I’ve gained a lovely wound as a souvenir, but I don’t really want my mother to kill me, so I better get going.”

I huffed as I stood from the couch, my rant of bottled emotions and confusion finishing sharply. My body wasn’t at its steadiest, but I was worked up and angry and really, reallyconfused to the point where my mind begged desperately to shut down, so I narrowed my eyes at his stunned expression, and stomped out of the room.

It hadn’t even occurred to me that I was dressed in only a t-shirt numerous sizes too big for me and my underwear as I reached the front door, seemingly permanent frown embedded to my brow as I stupidly ignored the multiple locks adorning the wood, and tugged down on the handle, desperately pulling as if I thought somehow that would defeat the different types of locks and open the door to my freedom. I released subconscious noises of frustration and distress as my struggles grew weaker, and the anger fuelling to my actions slowly began to subside.

 “You can pull all you want it’s not going to help.”

I ignored the husky voice behind me as I continued to pull and tug and fight the door. “Ugh!” I cried angrily, landing a smack to the middle of the door with my non-injured hand.

 “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

I spun abruptly upon hearing Harry’s husky, amused voice; my gaze not even catching his as my energy rapidly failed me, body collapsing I sunk down against the door, knees brought to my chest. My breathing was heavy and labored as I attempted to regain my composure yet again, the anger previously occupying me evaporating completely. I felt a tiny bit better after my uncontrollable rant, even if I was hysterical and mind not even contributing to the words before they left my lips. I hugged my knees, chin resting on them as I peeked up at Harry.

 “It’s not a joke, is it?” I mumbled quietly, quite a contrast to moments ago. He was resting casually against the stairs’ banister, but after my small mumble, he shook his head slightly, and advanced forward to mirror my position on the floor; body language evidently more relaxed as his knees were crooked and a fair space between his bum. I tried not to shuffle away from him.

 “Afraid not, Little Bird.” he admitted, and I sighed, exhaustion suddenly looming over me. If this whole thing wasn’t a joke, and I couldn’t go home; I’d want nothing more than to crawl under some heavy bedcovers and lose myself in a deep sleep. I wanted to disappear into a world entirely different from my own, into a dreamland where I hadn’t been kidnapped, I wasn’t fearing for my life, and my anxieties didn’t have anxieties of their own. I wanted drown my thoughts in a heavy slumber, rid my vision of Harry and forget the situation I had somehow fallen in.

I couldn’t, however, because he was sitting beside me, seemingly unfazed by everything that had happened and everything he had done, and I wasn’t at home nor did I have freedom. So I stayed frozen, defeated; waiting for my curly haired captor to make the next move.

 

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