I fell into an unconscious state, consumed by the darkness that swallowed me. I wasn’t awake but I wasn’t asleep, my body floating in a black void of nothingness. There was no up and no down, my body drifting aimlessly on a sea of shadow. All sensations faded away, leaving nothing but an empty hole inside of me, a gaping hollow where my feelings should have been. There were sounds but they were distant, muffled and distorted, as if coming from underwater. I floated in that void, my mind detached, feeling strangely calm yet a faint feeling of uneasiness lingered on in the back of my consciousness. I had the vague awareness of being moved, the soft pressure of hands touching me, lifting me, gently swaying as if being carried.

  My mind was a broken mirror, memories shattered and fragmented. Glimmers, reflections of recollections appearing and then dissolving, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand before I could grasp them.

  Lars had lured me into his trap. He had baited me with the promise of reconciliation but it had all been a cruel ploy. I had been naive, in my desperation to escape his clutches I had been blind to the danger that he posed to me. He had offered me a way out, a false escape and I had fallen for his ruse, walked straight into his snare. Now he had me, I was defenceless, helpless, completely at his mercy. Even now, as I look back years later, the cold and calculating way in which he captured me, how easily he was able to play me sends a shiver down my spine.

  My mind swam and swirled, strange thoughts interspersed with disjointed memories. Fanciful, dreamlike images of unicorns, fairies and dragons floated before my eyes. Images from my childhood. Visions that twisted and corrupted as I watched. The unicorn’s horn turning black, warping and bending. The fairies, screaming in agony, their limbs contorting into unnatural shapes. The Dragon, its eyes red shedding tears of blood. Those visions mixed with darker visions. Visons of the Shadow Beast, that dark apparition, his red eyes glowing, stalking me, calling out my name in the soft whispered hiss of his voice as he hunted me, trying to lure me to him. Jumbled in among the insanity of those visions where splinters of memories, pieces of my life. Memories of Lela, of shopping trips, warm cosy, cafes and parties. The sound of her infectious laughter. Memories of Lars, had we had an argument over something? He’d found something of mine? But then we’d sat down together, he had made me a cup of tea and we’d made everything right. Hadn’t we?

  Memories and visions coming and going, swirling into view and then gone before I could begin to grasp them.

  The world started to come back to me in fragments. Jumbled and disjointed at first but slowly shuffling, slotting back into place. The first thing that I can remember is the taste. A bitter, metallic taste, a taste which seemed to coat my tongue, sticking in my throat. My mouth was dry, no moisture just a thick oily residue clinging to the inside, instantly making me want to gag.

  My stomach, writhed, twisting and tightening in nausea. A dull ache hammering inside my skull and behind my eyes, an ache which seemed to grow stronger as the minutes passed.

  Gradually, as time passed my mind started to settle, the memories and thoughts started to come together. That surreal picture show of twisted visions playing out in my head began to slow down. It was replaced with a sense of confusion, confusion and something else. Another thought nagging at me from the edge of my subconscious, a thought just out of my reach.

  I screwed my eyelids tightly, the throbbing in my head was becoming unbearable. The nausea twisting inside my belly was now accompanied by the loud, slow drumming of my heart, beating at my ribcage.

  Gradually more sensations began to cut through that thick fog of my mind. The smell, a damp, musty smell. The air, heavy and stagnant.

  A cold chill rose up from the hard ground beneath me, a chill that bit into my skin, seeping deeper into my bones. Teeth chattering, I strained, struggled to move, desperately trying to pull my arm around myself but my muscles wouldn’t listen, they refused to respond. Dull, throbbing aches tormented my limbs, limbs that felt heavy, heavy like lead weights. So, helpless, there I lay, shivers convulsing through my body, unable to move.

  My eyes slowly opened revealing nothing but the impenetrable black of darkness. My mind, a broken mirror desperately trying to piece together those shattered memories, to make some sort of sense out of them. A cup of tea, that was the last thing I could remember. A cup of tea with Lars, the picture looping around and around endlessly in my mind. That other something was there too, a shadow of a thought, a soft whisper, murmuring just out of my reach.

  I fought, battled against my own body, against the deep throbbing aches that had settled into my muscles. I willed them, forced them, commanded them to obey.

  I can’t tell you how long it took, moments or hours they were all the same to me. A dull drip, drip, drip echoing from somewhere in the dark, like the ticking of a clock was all that I had to indicate the passing of time. But gradually the numbness started to fade, the aches began to recede. First came a tingling sensation, thousands of pins and needles prickling all over my body. In time that too began to dwindle and feeling gradually returned to my nerves. The ground beneath me seemed to solidify, cold, hard and rough. Stone or concrete perhaps.

  I lay face down on that ground, the texture coarse and gritty, scratching against my cheek. Grazes stung my knees and feet.

  Gritting my teeth, straining every muscle. It took all I had to attempt to push myself up. A sudden jolt of pain, searing, burning hot exploded in my elbow, causing it to give way and me to collapse back onto the ground.

  My elbow, the agony that I felt awakened something, a memory floating back to me. A flash of movement, the salty, sweet taste of blood in my mouth. A fight, had I been in a fight? A fight with who? Lars? But that didn’t make any sense. Why would I have fought Lars? More memories started to slot back into place, the picture began to materialise before my eyes. I remembered, he had something of mine. Something that he’d taken. He was threatening me, trying to blackmail me...

  The photos!

  It was then that it struck me, the memories flooding back to me, playing out one by one, a slide show flicking through my mind. Each one was sharp and clear, it was as if I was seeing them for the first time. A wave of nausea washed over me, my stomach wringing, emptied its contents. Bile, burning in my throat, splashed onto the hard ground where I lay.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It was with that realisation that came the cold grip of fear, terror shuddered through me. Where was I? What had he done with me?

  Again, I tried to push myself up, muscles screaming in protest. My head pounding, thumping with a heavy throb. Stomach twisting again, a burning, acidic taste of vomit rising into my mouth once more, splattering onto the ground around me, splashing onto my arms.

  Every part of my body wanted to resist, wanted to just lay there in the filth but I fought it, forced myself to move. I struggled onto my side, muscles burning, a groan escaping my lips. With a heave, I finally managing to push myself up into a seated position. Exhausted, I dragged myself backwards until my back came to rest against the cold, hard, wall. My breathing coming in short, quick gasps.

  With eyes straining, I peered out into the darkness, fear gripping my chest. I was desperate for anything, anything to tell me where I was.

  A silver glint, a sliver of light cut through the black. A window perhaps?

  As I stared out, my eyes gradually started to adjust to the darkness. Black began to fade into dark grey. From the shadows, dark shapes began to take form.

  I was sat on a cold floor, laid with hard, uneven concrete slabs. Walls grey and featureless, surrounded me, rising up to the low ceiling above my head. Pipes snaked along those walls, around and up to whatever was above. A small, grimy rectangular window was positioned high on the wall to my left, allowing in a meagre amount of light, barely cutting through the dim gloom of the room.

  The air was thick and damp, the scent musty with the sweet hint of rot and decay. A cool draught brushed against my skin sending another shiver rippling through me, goose bumps raising on my arms.

  Old furniture, a few broken chairs and an old table missing a leg were piled in the far corner, long since abandoned. Wooden boxes of various sizes were scattered around the room, some lying broken and empty.

  Across from me, a narrow passage was just visible in the wall. Within that passage, a staircase ascended up, up and into the thick darkness above.

  My breath was ragged, rattling inside of me as another biting draught brought more shivers. My trembling hands gripped the hem of my dress, pulling it down, trying to cover my legs, seeking some small protection against the icy edge of the air.

  My dress?

  There was something odd about that, something seemed wrong. My brain scrabbled, struggling to understand, trying to find the answer. I glanced down at myself, at the velvet, pink dress that I was wearing. It was the dress that Lela had bought for me yesterday. Was it really only yesterday that I had seen her? It felt like a lifetime ago since we spent that day together in Oslo. My mind was drifting, time seemed to have lost all its meaning.

  That pink velvet dress, the red stain of spilt wine still dark in my lap. But I began to notice other stains too. The once vibrant pink was grubby, dark with dirt as if it’d been dragged around the floor. It wasn’t until later, when my mind began to clear, when the effects of whatever Lars had slipped into my tea began to wear off, the realisation began to dawn on me. I remembered dressing that morning, pulling on jogging bottoms and a blue jumper.

  I hadn’t been wearing that dress.

  He must have put me in it, he must have dressed me. The grasp of fear, a grasp colder than the air around me began to grip me.

  What was he doing, what was his game?

  The insistent, monotonous drip, drip, drip echoed in my ears. Eyes wide darting around the room, I searched. Chairs, a table, old boxes, the stairs, the window…Eyes darting left, right seeking, searching, but for what I didn’t know. Anything, anything that could give me some sort of explanation. Where was I? What was happening to me?

  As the throbbing in my head began to ease, I tried to pull myself to my feet. The room spinning and swaying before me. I reached out a hand, grabbing the wall for support, rough and cold beneath my fingers. My knees creaked, stiff and unsteady, muscles straining as they straightened. My chest tightened, squeezing and constricting my lungs. My breath coming in fast pants, heart pounding quickly in my ears as I staggered to my feet.

  Brushing myself down, my fingers traced the edges of my ribs and hips. The bones feeling sharp and unnaturally prominent. The dress hung loosely on my frame.

  I can remember fixing my eyes on that dark staircase. I can remember telling myself that I had to get out of there, I needed to get away before Lars returned. There was no other way out, those stairs were the only chance that I had. What was waiting at the top I didn’t know, all I knew was that I had to take the chance. I had to escape.

  Unsteady, shaking, a foot reached forward, taking my first tentative step. Pulling, stretching my calf as I did so. Slowly, tentatively I released my grip on the wall, hand coming back to my side. The world tilted and swayed, I anchored my gaze on that staircase, arms reaching out to the side, desperate to keep my balance. A second step, my bare foot dragging forward across the rough, dusty ground.

  One step at a time.

  A third step, a fourth step...

  A little bubble of confidence began to rise in me, five, six, seven steps getting quicker.

  A little too confident perhaps. My weight shifted forwards a little too quickly, my knee wobbled under the strain before giving way. I Pitched forward, falling heavily onto the cold hard floor. My shoulder struck the ground first, searing pain shooting down my arm. My mouth opened in a scream but the only sound was a muffled gurgle. My throat was too dry and parched, lips sore, chapped and broken.

  With a painful effort, I climbed, slowly, unsteadily back to my feet. My shoulder, grazed from the fall, burned, glistening red in the dim light.

  Setting my eyes firmly on those dark steps once again. Steps wobbling and shuffling I slowly started to make my way forward. My feet, heavy, dragged as I stumbled on, naked skin rubbing raw against the rough stone floor.

  Stumbling on for what felt like miles, I eventually reached the passage and foot of the staircase. Hands grabbed forward, grasping the entrance to the passage, holding myself steady as my frantic breathing slowly returned to normal.

  The stairs lead upwards, upwards into a narrow stairwell, upwards into the dark shadows where just visible in the gloom was the outline of a door.

  One step at a time I began to climb, a relentless climb. Slowly, upwards into the darkness, upwards towards the door, towards the way out.

  The door was sturdy, made of rough wood, dark paint flaking off its surface. A round knob, a metallic glint in the low light catching my eye. A flutter of hope flickered inside me like the flame of a candle in the breeze as my hand reached out towards the knob.

  My hand gripped it tightly, the metal cold and smooth on my palm. I turned the handle and as I did so, that flame of hope flickered, danced one last time before going out.

  Locked!

  Of course it was going to be locked, why would Lars have taken all the trouble to get me here only to leave the door open so I could walk out?

  I sunk to the floor, huddling in the doorway, defeated.

  There was no way out, I was trapped. The heavy weight of despair settled on my shoulders. My mind wandered. Thoughts, images flashed before me, images of Lars, horrific thoughts that I desperately tried to push away, thoughts that frightened me, thoughts that I dared not let myself entertain.

  A sudden click cut through the terrors that were racing through my head. A rattle of metal on metal coming from the door behind me.

  A key in the lock, turning, the mechanism grinding. The door handle turned and with the rasp of old, rusted hinges the door began to open.

  My eyes screwed closed, blinded by the bright light bursting in through the opening door. Panic gripped me, my breath caught in my throat, someone was coming and there was nowhere to go, no escape.

  “Oh look, Sleeping Beauty has woken up. What are you doing up here?”, a soft voice chuckled. A voice that I instantly recognised as Lars.

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