I'm not alone? [open to one male. please pm.]

[everbloom]

-ooc-

Open for one male, please PM if intrested in the role of her kidnapper/ fellow kidnappee.

The main plot for this was based off a movie where a woman is kidnapped and her kidnapper pretends to be kidnapped also in order to get close to her, and therefore be more involved in the game. I can't remeber the name of the movie, but I just liked the basic idea of it.

-ic-

“No no no no!” Phoebe woke up screaming, the memory of hands around her wrists and the sense of suffocating still so fresh in her mind. Opening her eyes she didn’t register the softness of a bed under her back, all she could remember was the hard plastic ridges in the van’s floor. There were windows, but metal shelves lined across it. She couldn’t remember any view of the outside as she was hauled away. Just a large weight on her hips, as a man she would guess, pressed her to the floor with a cloth covered hand pressed over her nose and mouth. Kicking and thrashing she fought until an eerie feeling of emptiness left her limp in the man’s grasp. Before that had been another late night working. Phoebe made her small living as being a part of a cleaning crew for rent, usually to large office buildings. They were rented, and cleaned late at night, as to not get in the way of the running business. That night she had been working with her familiar friends she had met through her job.

That was the best part of it, even though an on-looker would say cleaning offices late at night wasn’t dream job, but Phoebe got to work with her friends. That night's topic of discussion was Tori’s, an older blonde woman who had actually hired Phoebe, wedding. Tori had decided she wanted everything to be white and gold like a fairy tale as a theme in her wedding. It would have definitely been a change from the dark blue overhauls they wore together like some kind of prison gang. When everything was sparkling from there cleaning, they had decided almost every detail of the wedding together. They both agreed a cake would be vanilla bean with pure white icing and golden lilies on the ledges of where the layers got smaller would look the nicest with her theme.

Phoebe had waved to Tori as she passed in car. “See you tomorrow!’ Tori called to Phoebe when she turned to watch her pass. Phoebe smiled with a wave to her friends rearview mirror. That’s when it happened. Whoever it was that had taken her grabbed her by the waist and threw her against the car. The impact didn’t hurt, but it pressed the air right out of her, leaving her focused on gasping. That was the first attempt to coloform her. He must have thought she would go down easy since she was gasping, but she weaseled her way out, taking off into the forest just beyond her silver Honda. Her stomach lurched at the after effect of the small amount of gas that had been left on her lip from his try, it was barely any but it slowed her down. Her steady stride waivered and a branch whipped her face, leaving a long red mark on across her eyebrow.

That’s when she saw the van she would be hauled into. She had ran right in its direction, the man scooped her up from her knees before she was hauled in. The movement started right away and he flipped her on her back. Her ponytail of long black hair had loosened from its hold, pieces of it hung on her neck and between the ridges of the floor. The struggle, the faint, and now she was seeing her surroundings more clearly.

Whatever this place was, it resembled a concrete box made to feel more homely. There was an oak dresser just beside her with a picture of her father and herself, something they, whoever they were, had to have taken from her home. Pushing the sheets down her body she was glad to see she wasn’t naked, but not happy that she was no longer wearing her work uniform. They must have changed her into the white nightgown she was now wearing. It wasn’t quiet her taste, against her tanned skin it looked bright and strange.

This place seemed to have no seams or door, and she worried about air and if she would die in this place. The only thing that calmed her was the thought if they had wanted her dead, they probably wouldn’t have put her in this place with furnishings and things she held dear, like her father’s picture.

Further studying the room she did see that there was a door, or at least something that looked like an outline of a door in the concrete, next to it, something that resembled a mail slot. She pressed her finger against it but it didn’t budge. As she turned it opened, depositing a hand written note on the floor.

Phoebe.

She read on.

No questions, do as I say or risk punishment. The more you cooperate the more I will be willing to tell you. For now you will be treated as a guest if you cooperate.

And that is all it said. A tear hit the double “o”s in cooperate making the pen the letters were written in fade slightly. Another note dropped through, startling her.

Don’t cry.

She sniffed, turning her back to the mail slot. There was so much she wanted to do, her thoughts just seem to stream endlessly.

 

[Rick345]

Hearing a thump and a muffled sob Rick reached into the pocket of his worn faded and grimy jeans with his bony fingers and pulled out a cheap plastic bic ballpoint pen and scribbled a hasty note, in small neatly formed block letters, 'Don't cry".

Folding the grease stained paper in half and then in half once again until it was small enough to fit through the narrow mail slot. Reaching out he opened the small elongated door and pushed the note through to the slot to the room on the other side of the heavily padded wall. Wondering if he would get some type of response to his note. Wondering if she were clever enough to figure a way to communicate with him. She must be absolutely fanatic the experience must terrorizing. Presently she wasn't aware he was the only one that could help her the only one that could save her. That he is only one that could keep her alive.

He didn't know anything about her. Where she was born, who maybe looking for her, what she liked, what she loathed but, he knew enough he knew that if the notes were not obeyed privileges and convinces would be taken away one by one. Until all that was left was a cold dark dank room with no water, food or plumbing she would be left with only her hunger and misery to keep her company. That mustn't happen he wouldn't let it happen but, she had the obey the notes. From experience he knew what happened if the notes were not heeded. A shudder coursed through his body at the thought of what happened to those who didn't obey the notes.

His brow furrowed as his ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. Running his hand down the back of his head and rubbing the tense muscles in the back of his neck. His lean frame slumped back in the chair its seat worn almost thread bare as he fretted. Sweat stains began to appear under armpits of his torn filthy t-shirt. A shirt looked as if it hadn't been washed in weeks. The t-shirt stunk. Around him hung the sour odor of a man who hadn't bathed or showered in weeks that stale locker room smell seemed to follow like a cloud where ever he moved.

 

[everbloom]

Phoebe tried to hold back tears as she looked down on her next note, reminding her she was already breaking a direct command as her tears fell down her cheeks. Using the back of her hand she wiped them away before turning back. He had said no questions, but they were buzzing inside her.
Looping her finger on the edge of the slot she tried to lift it up but it was too heavy, even her longer nails couldn’t get enough leverage under it.
“Please… I just want to know what is going on. I am a reasonable girl, and I know that I haven’t done anything wrong. Why am I here, please give me something.” She said quietly, her fingers still prying at the slot.

“Please I won’t cause trouble if I get some answers, some assurances.” Her anxiety was sky high at the moment. Phoebe let her fingers drop down the cold concrete wall, waiting. When nothing came, she figured it would be best to explore. There didn’t seem to much of a mystery to the room, she saw the bed she was laying on, with an oak dresser next to it. On the far right of the room she was in was a very public toilet and shower. She scanned the walls for signs of cameras or other devices that might be keeping tabs on her. So far she came up blank; she was literally in a smooth box void of anything homely.

Getting up from the floor she opened the dresser. The first drawer was different from her own, so they must have not known that much, or cared. This one kept shirts on the top, all of them white. Did this person have a thing for white? Phoebe opened the second one, white skirts, shorts, pants, everything pure white and glowing against the dark wood of the dresser.

 

[Rick345]

Leaning closer to the bluish glow of the monitor he watched her every move. Watch has she turned her head to the left and then the right the way a cat watches a bird before it pounces. The way she crawled along the floor fascinates him. The way the cheeks of her young firm ass moved under the flimsy nightgown as she crawled about the floor peeked his interest.

'Oh yes she's a keeper', his thoughts racing as he continued to observe pausing only a moment to search through the pockets of her street clothes until he found it. A small red pocketbook with a golden clasp on the front. Numbly his greasy black finger nails unsnapped the clasp as he reached inside it and pulled out the small rectangular plastic card and held it over toward the small green desk light.

Peering down at her driver's license and reading off the prudent information he bent down and slid the small silver button to the left and opened the top drawer of the small black squat two drawer cabinet and removed a single clean white sheet of paper from the top cabinet drawer and closed it slowly silently with his left hand.

Reaching into his pants pocket once again his finger tips stained yellow with nicotine and pulling out the bic once more soon placing the tip of the pen in the corner of his mouth giving it a little suck while contemplating his next communicay as he liked to call his little notes.

Taking the pen from his lips the point of the pen pressed against and paper and began to move and the small neat block lettering appeared on the page.

You weren't given permission to speak, do as I say or risk punishment. This is your final warning or things will become very unpleasant I assure you. I trust we understand each other.

What is your name?
Where are you from?
tell me about yourself I'm very interested in you and be truthful I know when people lie to me, and I can't stand lying.

Folding the paper neatly he unlatched the mail slot and pushed it through.

 

[everbloom]

You weren't given permission to speak, do as I say or risk punishment. This is your final warning or things will become very unpleasant I assure you. I trust we understand each other.

What is your name?
Where are you from?
tell me about yourself I'm very interested in you and be truthful I know when people lie to me, and I can't stand lying.

Phoebe quickly looked around, there was no pen and she wasn’t aloud to talk. She figured one way or another she would get in trouble, either for talking or not responding. Gently with her finger nail she tapped the metal box.

“I’m sorry for talking, I have no pen.” She hurriedly said, as if talking faster would make less against his rules. Holding her breath she hoped he understood. For what seemed like a lifetime she watched the metal slot, a thin line from the light above her glowed on its surface. It opened and a pen feel through, no other recognition that he had heard her. Lacing her fingers around it the end had a smear of what looked like black oil. She didn’t pay it any noticeable mind, but she told herself she would analyze the possibilities of what it could mean later.

What is your name?
Phoebe Lynn Casic

Where are you from?
Montana

She looked at the last part, unsure of what he was asking. Did he or whoever “it” was want a run down on her life? So this had to be some kind of random plan than, if they didn’t know much about her.

My name is Phoebe, she laughed at herself thinking about the times in kindergarten the school children would do this. I am nineteen years old and I work for a cleaning company. My best friend is getting married this weekend, she wants everything to be gold and white. She is a bit obsessed over it, I…

Tear welled up in her dark eyes.

…was supposed to be her maid of honor.

After that Phoebe couldn’t think of anything else to write, and she definitely wasn’t in the state of mind to impress. Phoebe pressed her finger against the slot, surprised that it seemed to open for her, he must have something to lock it when he didn't want it open. Inside she put her response.

 

[Rick345]

Picking up the paper and unfolding it he began to read and at the same time write out his response.

A maid of honor isn't that wonderful I hope you're not disappointed that you won't be able to attend your friend's wedding but, you're my special guest Phoebe. My guest of honor, and I think it would be very rude of you leave so suddenly so unexpectedly. You want to nice a nice girl don't you, you don't want to be rude do you Phoebe? And Phoebe I don't have to remind you it's very rude not to do as others ask and before you touch or use other people's things it's rude not to ask permission.

So were you going to the wedding alone?

Watching her just standing in the middle of the room her hands fidgeting. She wasn't moving or at least not walking but, she wasn't still either. Turning away to place her driver's license in an envelope and placing the envelope in a folder labeled P in the top drawer of the filing cabinet he slowly, doing so he quietly closed the drawer.

Leaning over to the right he twisted the thermostat slightly to the left lowering the temperature from 85 degrees down to 70 degrees. He would be comfortable enough and if he became chilled he had his jean jacket rapped over the back of his chair. However, how would she react he wondered. Certainly she would find it chilly in no time dressed in only a nightie, panties and bra but, how would she react would she remember her manners?, he mused to himself while placing the neatly folded note into the slot giving it a little nudge.

 

[everbloom]

Anger flared in her body and eyes when she read:

My guest of honor, and I think it would be very rude of you leave so suddenly so unexpectedly.

She clenched her fists, furious at him to think he was higher than her best friend. She was going to rip this note up as soon as she was done, she knew she would. Inside her a strong sense of injustice fueled her destructive need.

You want to nice a nice girl don't you, you don't want to be rude do you Phoebe? And Phoebe I don't have to remind you it's very rude not to do as others ask and before you touch or use other people's things it's rude not to ask permission.

That was it! “Fuck you! You self righteous coward, if you had anytype of a fucking brain. You want me to ask permission to use the only shit you put in this hell hole you are holding me in against my will? Fuck you! FUCK you! You are a fucking coward!” she ripped the paper up with her hands, letting the pieces pepper the floor before she threw the pen against the wall. It bounced of the concrete before pitfully rolling in a circle.

“You are a fucking coward.” She spat. “You had a chance for a nice girl, but this game of power is over. Lock me in box, because you couldn’t hold me without walls and steel. You couldn’t hold anyone, you weak fuck.”

There was no response the rest of the night, but it did get colder. The thought that he was trying to pitifully right himself and it made her laugh. Make it cold. She thought, she had learned a long time ago that it didn’t matter about control, only survival. Phoebe wrapped herself up in the blanket and fell asleep on her side.

 

[Rick345]

Coming home from working the late shift Rick's first order of business is to check on his guest. Setting down in his favorite chair and turning on the monitor there was the woman wrapped in a blanket sleeping. Reaching forward with a thin bony finger and pressing the rewind button backing up the tape a full eight and a half hours releasing pressure on the button the monitor flickers for a second and begins to replay everything it had recorded that night. As the scene unfolds yesterday's note could clearly be seen falling to the floor. Watching the monitor intently she can be seen picking up the note and reading.

Rick reaching down hand sweeping across the desk eyes still glued to the monitor and picking up the ear buds taking a moment to carefully place them in each ear and adjusting the volume just in time to hear her. His jaw dropped open he couldn't believe the language he was hearing. Such a pretty young thing with such a filthy mouth it was unbelievable. My God what would his mother say, if she were still alive. His mother never approved of the girls he brought home even in high school no one was good enough for her little Ricky she would always say. With that thought passing in a fleeting moment his attention again drawn to the monitor smiling as he watched her throw a wadded up piece of paper at the wall of his invincible fortress of solitude.

Reaching down toward the floor on the left side of his chair his hand gripes the white plastic ten gallon bucket, grining at the realization only he and Superman had a Fortress of Solitude. For a minute he lamented the fact he didn't have super powers like the real superman but, consoled himself with the fact that as a man he was of a much higher moral character than the man of steel. Superman was selfish he used his arctic stronghold for his own solitude Superman didn't share.

Hearing the words of his Momma in his head, "Remember Ricky always share your toys its good manners." He was pleased that his Momma loved his enough to teach him the importance of sharing everything you have with others and especially teaching him good manners. Manners make the man she would always say.

Smiling and humming a little tune he climbed the cellar steps opening the door at the top which lead to a rustic looking 50's style kitchen. Stopping in front of the aging pure white Frigadare refrigerator he opened it and removed the bag of ice from the top shelf poured the ice into his bucket. Opening a drawer just to the right of the icebox he reached in and pulled out a pair of night vision goggles and adjusted the strap so the goggles fit snugly the eye pieces resting on the top of his forehead. After disposing of the empty bag in a nearby rubbish can he turned around took the half a dozen steps to the cellar entrance and proceeded to descend into the cellar still carrying the bucket. At the bottom of the steps turning toward the left stopping just a second placing the bucket into the concrete laundry sink he filled it with water stirring the mixture with his hand till his hand ached painfully from the icy cold water. Carrying the now weighty bucket back to enclosure where his guest was still sleeping. He griped the lowest rung of the steel ladder attached to the side of structure and began to climb with cat like silence bucket in hand. Reaching the top he clawed over the labyrinth of steel rebar he had welded together so any part of the room could be accessed until he reached the spot where directly below she was sleeping.

After everything he had done for her. Provided her with a nice room, nice clothes, she didn't appreciate his generosity his kindness. He would have to teach her manners he had no choice and it was for her own good. After all good manners are the first sign of good breeding and a woman without proper manners is no lady. While someone may having failed this poor woman in her upbringing he wouldn't fail her. He would make her a proper lady. Soon enough he'd write another note give her another chance to redeem herself but, first she must learn why ladies never use bad language.

Reaching down about six inches below the wide space steel grating he slid away a panel directly above where she lay sleeping. Balancing the bucket on several intersecting bars which made up the grate he assured himself it was stable before pulling down the night vision goggles and ensuring they fit snugly. Pressing a large red button a faint click was heard from the room below his perch, with a single press of a button all the drawers on the dressers and the door to the closet were locked tight. No clean white shirts or dresses towels or robes for her today she didn't apprechacate his kindness his gifts so be it she wouldn't have them. Ungreatful cunt!

Before turning on the goggles he flipped a light switch and the entire cellar was engulfed in a inky blackness so thick one couldn't see their hand in front of their face. Sliding the micro switch on the goggles upward the room came alive and everything could be seen in a eerie greenish glow. Down below lay Phoebe all greenish looking as he tipped the bucket and the icy cold water rained down on her soaking the blanket, bed, her clothing and skin and the floor of the filled with nothing but, inky blackness.

Perched like a vulture he watched.

 

[everbloom]

Phoebe woke up to, well, a shocking sensation. Cold water and hard ice cubes rained down her in one large sweep. Sputtering she clenched at the sheets, her heart racing from the sudden change. After a few moments, her mind guided her back to reality. Even in the darkness she knew she was still stuck in this hell hole.

“Really.” She whispered. “That was incredibly childish.” She knew if someone had planned something like that, they had to be at least watching. “Is there any other whim you would like to soothe your ego?” she asked with a remarkably calm voice.

“Where are the whoopee cushions and stolen nail polish bottles huh?”

Phoebe shook her head, disappointed that whoever had captured her, couldn’t at least be mature. So far he proved to be self-righteous, egotistical, and incredibly childish. She had had time to think before she fell asleep, and honestly she considered that if things had been different, she probably would have been forgiving in the end. This was not the case anymore. Had a fourteen year old kidnapped her? She wondered idly as she pushed away an ice cube and laid her head down. More insults on his demeanor came to her mind, but she thought she had made her point. Anymore and she would be wasting her breath.

“Goodnight.” She said, making a point she knew he was watching. Maybe not from where or how.