Taken [Inactive]

"Really?" He asked after a long pause. "You want to play?"


It wasn't a horrible suggestion, really. They were both bored, and he didn't hold a serious grudge against her. She was ransom after all, but, they could sit down and play a game together. He'd leave the gun hidden though, not wanting her to take it. Somewhere in the house was a pile of old board games, passed down to him from the last owner. He rummaged in the closet to find it, and brought it to the basement.


"I've got the game, but, you have to play as the bag of gold." He added, irony was fun.
 
Alison couldn't help but laugh at his comment. Her situation was dire, but his comment genuinely amused her. She moved away from the door so that he didn't think she was trying to escape when he opened the door. There would come a time for escape, but this particular moment wasn't it. She wanted this man to be human to her, not just a villain.


"Yeah, okay." she agreed. "I'll probably still beat you anyways." she told him. "I'm pretty good at games. You have to be when you live my life."


She was suddenly aware that she hadn't showered for several days, and that she smelled a little like it. It didn't matter, really, but she didn't like the sudden feeling of her clothes sticking to her and the muck in her hair. She pushed that complaint away, pushing her hair back off her face and sitting still as she waited for her captor to join her.
 
"I don't think so." Isaac disagreed. He was amused, but he had to remember his place. Captor and Captive.


He set up the game, putting all the money on one side of the board, they'd both control the bank. Politely, he handed her the bag of gold piece, but it was only in the moment of irony of course. He was sitting on that bag of cash, waiting for her ransom to be paid so he could run. It took him a second, but he took the car, unable to place any significance in it. Distancing himself from the subtle irony in it all.


"Roll. We'll see who goes first. Isaac shook the die and let it loose.
 
Alison took the bag of gold and examined it, her expression curious as she looked at the piece. She usually played as the boot, without any real reason for her choice. She looked across the board at her captor, frowning slightly. As she grew up, she had been taught that she must always look her best when she was with company, and she looked a mess. Her hair, her clothes, her smell, and the rings under her eyes that revealed exactly how little good sleep she had gotten.


She picked up the dice and looked at it for a few seconds. "I'm aware that I'm pushing my luck here, but what are my chances of a shower? I feel a little like I smell like a stray dog. And pardon my princess-ish tendencies, but I don't like smelling like a stray dog.." she let go of the dice, tossing it gently.
 
"You go first." Isaac responded dully. She didn't smell terrible, but, there was something to her that wasn't pleasant. Be it the attitude he disliked, or the guilt, he'd just blame the smell. "As soon as I bet you, you can shower."


A few turns passed between the two of them, equal properties between the two. Isaac almost forgot the rules, so they made some up as they went. It wasn't bad, just, a little awkward because of the situation.
 
Alison felt the tension between them. This moment wasn't meant to happen. He wasn't meant to play board games with her, and he knew it. She was grateful for the amusement, however brief it might be. It felt good to achieve something, even if it was purchasing Mayfair before her captor could. As she made the purchase, a genuine smile curved into her lips and she looked across the board at her captor. "Uh oh. Not looking good for you, already." she smirked, raising an eyebrow.


She felt more human playing a game, some of her regular energy coming back to her. Moments from a psychology class at college came back to her, remembering that Stockholm Syndrome was real and that she was probably experiencing it, but she didn't mind. She could care about that after this game of Monopoly. Her next turn found her on the 'go to jail, do not pass go' square and she laughed, moving the bag of gold to the jail. "Well, that's not good, is it?"
 
It's awfully ironic, that's what. The money is in jail, jeez.





"Nope. Sucks to be you, because I just got Boardwalk." The spot wasn't great unless he had the other as well, but, he felt good about it anyways. For whatever childish reason associated with purchasing the most expensive spot on the board.


As he played, he loosened up some. Not as tense as he normally was, and glad to have the human interaction, he found himself actually laughing. It was fun, in the darkest corner of his mind the thought appeared. He smothered it quickly.


Don't make this into a fun afternoon, this is just to kill the boredom.





"Pass go, money, money, money." He rubbed his fingers together as if there was cash between them. It was her turn now.
 
Alison found herself relaxing, her tense muscles beginning to ache a little less and her eyes brightening as they played. It was one of the strangest situations she would ever find herself in, but she was having some sort of fun, locked in a white room with a man whose name she hadn't yet dared to ask. She named him 'Blake' in her mind, just for the sake of him having a name.


She played well, and strategically, slowly buying the best properties and building hotels on them. She knew how to do business, if nothing else. The game went back and forth a lot, sometimes she was winning, others losing, and every now and then evenly matched. When she had to pay a large sum of rent, she groaned and tossed the paper money across to her captor.


"Oh, come on... that was just underhanded. I forgot you owned the property. Don't squatters have rights to not pay rent when they're already in a place? I'm a squatter. Squatters don't pay rent!"
 
"Sorry, but, squatters don't exist in Monolopy." Isaac reminded her, taking the cash one bill at a time. It might not have been real money, but it was still satisfying. "Are you broke yet?"


He eyed up her pile of cash, compared to his, he had substantially more. If he guessed, he had to say he was winning. Squatters his ass, there was no rule for squatters and it wouldn't pass this far in the game now.


Stop, stop, you're having too much fun. Knock it off.





He had to remind himself who she was, and he stood up abruptly. "Go take a shower." He scratched his head and averted his gaze. This wasn't right, the whole situation wasn't right. "We can play when you're out, come on, same bathroom."
 
Alison groaned as he took the bills, shaking her head. "Not broke yet. Close to it, though."she counted her cash slowly, then looked up at him as he stood up. She was obviously taken back by his sudden coldness. It made sense that he would be cold. It didn't make sense that he had been warm moments before.


"O-okay." she stuttered, standing up quickly and walking into the bathroom, closing the door gently. She showered quickly, enjoying the feeling of the hot water on her skin and the water running through her hair. It made her feel a little more like herself, and less like a prisoner. She got out of the shower and pulled her clothes back on, briefly hesitating before walking back into the white room, not even looking around at the room she had to walk through.


She needed him to trust her.
 
Isaac waited outside the door, unsure of what to do. He pulled at his hair, groaning and moaning. He had to get a grip. She'd been here three days and already they were comfortable with each other. This isn't how hostage situations were supposed to go. She was supposed to stay in the room, sit quiet, and wait for the ransom to come. If it didn't? She was screwed.


The shower shut off, and he continued to wait. He had to be tougher, or this wasn't going to work.
 
Alison noticed the change in his demeanour when she exited the bathroom, flinching as she realised that they were back to their old game. She looked down, walking into the white room and sitting down on the floor by the open door, turning her head to look out the door at him. "Just... do what you need to do." she told him quietly.


"You should know that my father wont give you the money. He doesn't give up his money easily, and he'll do anything he can to get around giving it to you." she turned her head and stared at the wall again. "So start making your plans for what happens at the end of seven days. He's not going to give you what you want."
 
Isaac shut the door, the game still on the floor in the white room. He didn't say anything and went upstairs to sleep through the rest of the day. Day four was tomorrow. If daddy didn't call he was going to need a new plan, fast.


All I want is to get what's mine. Police don't care, don't believe me. Can't get a job here, so what's the point in staying, what's the point. Goddamn, Goddamn, Isaac what have you done this time.





He screamed at himself with this internal monologue. There wasn't a good way out now. Mr. Charles hadn't called back in a while and it was starting to concern Isaac. At least on the first day he'd negotiated a little bit, but the silence was worse. It meant he either was trying to find Isaac, or he didn't care about his daughter.
 
Alison sighed as the door shut, fear creeping into her bones as she sat there. She moved only to retrieve the blanket, curling up on the floor again and pulling her knees to her chest, using some of the blanket as a makeshift pillow while the rest covered her. She found herself trembling as she lay there, beginning to wonder if this man could actually kill her.


She didn't think he could kill her. He didn't have that sort of steel to his gaze. Maybe he would simply leave, and leave her in this sealed room to die, simply so he wouldn't have to do the act himself. That wasn't a way she wanted to die. She would prefer to be shot. Much faster and probably less painful, or at least the pain would end faster.


"Come on, Dad." she muttered to herself. "Just give him the money. Apologise for what you've done. Then we can all move on with our lives. Or can we? I don't think we can. I think I need to walk away from him and from everything he does. I can't be part of his corruption, even if I am only implicit in it..."


I'm talking to myself. This isn't what a sane person would do.





She silenced herself and fell into another restless sleep, praying to a god she wasn't sure existed that she would be free sometime soon.
 
There still wasn't a call on the fourth day. Isaac sat with his disposable phone in his hand, opening and shutting it in and endless monotonous rhythm. He did his best to ignore the girl inside. From now on, he had to be more difficult with her. No weaknesses, and certainly no board games. She'd gotten a blanket, a shower, and he'd let her out to pee, but that was it.


He wasn't playing nice any more, even if the guilt chewed at him.


He stared at the phone again as it opened. No new messages. Nothing. Isaac relayed the news to Alison. "No new calls sweetheart." He called through the door.
 
Alison had retreated into her shell over the last day, trying to think of a way out. The man on the other side of the door didn't respond to any of her attempts at conversation, and she gave up trying after several hours of monosyllabic answers to her questions. She sat by the door, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her eyes constantly glazed over with tears that never actually fell.


"He's not going to call." she repeated for what felt like the millionth time. "You're not going to get what you want, so can't we just end this?" she asked, anger boiling into her voice. "You can't leave me in here forever. Just... just shoot me already. Please. Teach my father this lesson that you so desperately need him to learn, and he'll be rich and alone, and you'll have gotten your revenge."


She needed the door to be open. She needed it to be open for more than a second, and she needed to use quick movement to get out of it and make a run for it. He was twice her size, but she was fast.
 
"And I'll have lost you, the only thing keeping me from getting what I want." Isaac repeated, in different words, what he'd been saying all day. He wasn't going to open the door, not for her, no. If she was holding a suitcase full of cash, then they'd talk, but for now it was closed.


He tapped his fingers on his knee in a rhythm with no tune. Sighing and humming as he tapped away. Then his phone rang, what he'd been waiting for all day.


Finally.





"If you say so much as a word, I swear, Alison..." Isaac threatened her, opening his disposable flip phone. Time to see what the offer stood at.
 
Alison bit her lip to stop herself from speaking, her teeth digging into her lip so much that it caused a bit of pain. She didn't know what she would say, if there was anything she could say. She couldn't scream, because it wouldn't do anything to help. She didn't know where she was, and so location was irrelevant.


But it seemed that it had been long enough that her being dead was a possibility. How could her father be certain she was alive, when he hadn't heard anything of her in four days? Did he even care? She pushed away those thoughts and sat still by the closed door, pressing her ear to the door and listening carefully.


"I need proof that she's alive." Her father's voice came through the phone, gruff and on the edge of anger. "You'll have no money until I can be sure that she is alive, and will be returned to me unharmed."
 
"Sure thing." Isaac replied with a hint of snark in his voice. "Hey, Alison, say hi to your dad."


He held out the phone, waiting for her to say something. If she said something about the color of the walls, he'd never let her out of the room, just run. Isaac wouldn't live through a raid on his house, not with the daughter of a multimillionaire in his basement. Life wasn't that easy, and certainly didn't favor him in that regard.


At this point he just wanted out. She didn't deserve this, it wasn't her fault, it was his.


All my fault.
 
Alison hesitated. This was her chance to say something, to hint, to find a way to be free. But instead of rebel and cause trouble, she simply said in a hoarse voice, "I'm alive, Dad." she told him, her voice breaking as she spoke, sobs tearing through her body yet again. She buried her head between her knees and let herself cry again.


"The psychological damage you've caused my daughter will probably cost me at least one hundred thousand dollars of therapy, plus hospital bills for when she has breakdowns and harms herself." Her father spoke, a cold and calculated edge to his voice. "So let's say, two hundred thousand for all of those bills. Ah, and her wasted education, because she doesn't have the hope of saving the world now, so there goes another two hundred grand. She'll never earn money, and so her potential income should be removed from the sum I owe you." he paused, a dry laugh coming from his throat. "I owe you nothing, boy. You've got yourself a burden you can't bear. Let her go, because you can't keep her forever, and you won't harm her. You're spineless."
 
"You're the one putting monetary value on the time wasted. And why would you just assume that she'll harm herself? Destroy her future? What the hell is wrong with you?" Isaac rolled his eyes and let out a disgusted grunt.


Not only would her father not pay him, but he was already calculating what it would cost him to apparently repair her. She wasn't broken, she wasn't damaged, she was just a girl, taken from her father by an idiot. Me.





"So, what, now I get nothing because you think three days of being a captive will cause her a lifetime of sorrow? Bull-shit!" He said each word on its own, letting the words sink in. "But, I suppose if you'll give me nothing, I'll just keep her here an extra day. If you want to talk again, you've still get three to negotiate. If not? Well?"


What am I going to do, kill her?





"Say goodbye." He sang into the phone, hoping it would cause a rise on the other end.
 
"I've spoken to psychologists in the last day. They all estimate the same outworking from what's currently happening to her." He said gruffly. "I'm a businessman. I weigh up costs. You, however, acted without thought, and now you're panicking." He paused briefly as he was given an extra day to think, then hung up without saying goodbye.


Alison picked up the Monopoly board that had remained untouched for the past day, throwing it across the room just as she had thrown the turkey sandwich days before. She was angry and sad and frustrated. She needed to get out. He needed to open the door and she needed to run, and run fast.


She put her head between her legs again, letting tears fall, and desperately hoping that her captor would open the door to check on her so that she could take the opportunity to run. She hoped her legs would carry her properly.
 
Isaac offered her no such peace. He, too, was angry.


"Your dad just changed his offer." He shouted, furious, and now taking out his aggression on the door that separated them. "He's offering me nothing. Not a single dime. You've got three days left."


He kicked the wall, pounded his empty fists on the door. All the kid could do was scream because he'd been denied. Not only had he screwed up in taking the girl, but now he wouldn't get anything. He royally screwed himself and there was no backing out. If the offer was still zero, he'd have to kill her. He couldn't do it. Isaac knew he couldn't do it.


When he'd blown off some steam, he sat against the wall and sobbed quietly. His life had been ruined. Every damn day, he told himself he'd make it, and the one time he went awry he fell off the deep end. As quietly as he could, he whispered her name, "Alison, I'm sorry."


I am so, so sorry.
 
Alison jumped as he pounded against the door, her hopes of him opening it quickly abandoned. She knew that the man on the other side felt just as broken as she did, and she felt just as sad for him as she did for herself, pulling her knees tightly against her chest and sobbing as she listened to his sobs. She heard his faint whisper and his apology.


A strange desire pricked within her. She just wanted to be held. It was odd that she would feel such a thing. She had never been held much as a child, and had been taught to control her emotions with firm commands rather than warm embraces. She didn't dare speak, because giving voice to that desire would only lead to it growing.


"I need to throw up." she said after some time passed, her voice urgent. "Please don't make me throw up in here." she pleaded.
 
Isaac couldn't beat to look at her. She stood for what he'd screwed up, his failure. But he did throw in the trash can from the bathroom, promising to take it out once she was done. He wasn't going in the room, couldn't do it. But he wasn't going to let her out.


He stayed put against the door, listening to her sob alone in the room. This is what he'd done, destroyed the girl's mind by making her sit alone in a white room. It was wrong, he was disgusting, this was wrong!


He argued with his inner demons without much else of another thought. Isaac was tired of this, tired of being denied what he wanted most. Freedom was what he wanted, to be able to stand on his own feet and be normal for five seconds in his life. But that time was over.


Again he screamed and slammed his fists against the door.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

Similar threads

Sora No Kami
A vicious dance with death (RP 1x1 based on the song "My R") TW: Self-loathing, Suicune
Replies
1
Views
199
Sora No Kami
Sora No Kami
Back
Top