Cassie Huwit

My head is pounding. I slowly blink my eyes to fully open, I'm in a white bed, wooden frame with carvings of flowers; to my left is a window with long, dark grey, pillar curtains - thankfully they are closed.

On my right is a white door - I assume leading out of the room - there is another door in front of the bed that's open, obvious that it is the bathroom as I can see the bath and a peak at the shower.

The room is large and very spacious, clearly not my apartment, there is a large dark brown dresser next to the door to the bathroom. I lift myself up by my elbows and immediately the room spins and my vision blurs. What the hell happened.

I wait for my vision to come back and lift myself up again, twisting my body to hang my legs over the right side of the bed, on the bed side table is a glass of water and a vase full of white carnations.

The smell of the carnations brings back the memory of that creepy florist and feeling like I was being watched, and my apartment being ruined then nothing.

Just as the past comes flooding back, my head spins again.

The floor creaks and strains, I walk towards the door.

I twist the knob and pull but the wood doesn't budge, I place my ear to the barricade, fidgeting with my hands, trying to hear someone outside but nothing.

I scream out a chain of pleas for help.

I begin to cry, the tears saturating my cheeks.

I hear soft creaks approaching the door like when you walk down old stairs. I wipe my face and smear the tears on my pants.

"Help! Who's out there!" A small hole on the door opens when a small piece of wood slides over from outside the door. I put my face up to the hole, trying to look out when I hear a 'psh' like something being sprayed, my vision starts to blur and I stumble to the ground.

Just as it goes black, I hear the door open.

The smell of cedar and whiskey with a hint of sweet nectar hits me, as well as strawberries and syrup.

I wake up back in the bed.

My head hurts again, I look over to the bedside table and see a tray of food.

Pancakes, still warm, with syrup and cut fruit, as well as a sandwich. A book accompanies the tray, a title and author I've never heard of before.

I get up to which the floor groans at; I walk over to the curtains and rip them open, a poster of clouds and trees hid behind it. What kind of sick joke is this?

I sit back on the bed and cry until I can't breathe.

I ate half of one of the pancakes and a couple pieces of fruit before running to the toilet to throw up.

I guess whatever was sprayed on me made me feel to sick to eat as well as make me faint. I lie on the cold bathroom floor, breathing rapidly, imagining that Alice is lying on the couch, hangover, that this is all just a bad hangover.

The clock on the wall taunts me. Every number the hand passes feels like it's laughing at me. I pace the room. I can't take the white walls caging me in, the bed still shaped the same as when I got up; I feel like I'm losing it, I am losing it.

I don't whether to sleep, or cry, or both I can't eat because I'll probably vomit again and I don't know if whoever has taken me will give me anymore food.

Will he be back?

Does he plan to leave me here to die?

I, shakily, open the tall doors of the dresser. A line of black men's shirts and an equal amount of black jeans underneath the shirts, folded.

I reach my hand to the top of the dresser, feeling around for something - anything. There is nothing but thick dust, that I brush off my hand onto my pants.

There's three drawers under the doors, I open each one and see a draw of men's black socks, men's boxers in small, and in the third drawer, guns and lots of them; some small, some are folded. I kick the drawer shut and shuffle backwards until my back hits the bed. Where the hell am I?

I ate the sandwich before falling asleep.

When I woke up the tray was gone and replaced with a bowl of steaming chicken and rice, and a single white carnation.

It's been awhile, I've just been staring at the flower; the way it's petals curve, the long stem with a pair of leaves.

It has to be that florist that took me, I realize.

No one else knows I like carnations, not even Alice. Oh my god.

Alice.

Alice must be freaking out, right now.

What if she saw my apartment and called the police?

Someone must be looking for me, right?

I can't just disappear and no one bats an eye. Right?

Of course not, Alice will call the police, they will find me and I'll be fine.

Right?

I'm slowing starting to lose it but the thought of seeing Alice again is holding me together. I have even started to imagine being back at Palmer's, Sam is ignoring me but at least I get to see his muscles when he moves or his perfect face, Luke and Michael are dancing on the trolley's shaking their asses in my face.

Winston is telling me more stories about his wife and Vanessa is at the phone.

Everything is normal.

I am walking home and I see a dog that I stop and pet, it is shaking it's little tail in excitement, I walk to my building and up the old stairs that my landlord should have gotten fixed years ago.

The hallways smell musty and grey like it always does, my neighbors kids are screaming over who gets the TV again. I push my door open and see glass on the floor, couch knocked over, and a picture of Ally and I, at the airport, smashed to pieces - barely recognizable.

"I'm sorry Cassie"

Wait!

I start at the beginning imagining the day, the last day I remember, with weepy eyes. I am leaving Alice' house and walk about twenty minutes to work, I remember not wanting to see Sam but when I show up Sam isn't there.

"Huh? Oh, about that, Sam handed me his resignation yesterday." Vanessa's voice repeats in my head. I did my work like usual, well more than usual because of Sam.

Vanessa said I could go home early and she handed me my paycheck so I walked to Target because I can't afford Palmer's stuff.

When I got home, it was about an hour after I normally get home, there was no screaming, I walked up the stairs with my grocery bags.

Glass on the floor, couch knocked over, and a picture of Ally and I at the airport smashed to pieces.

"I'm sorry Cassie"

It's so faint, the voice and the smell.

Cedar, whiskey and sweet nectar.

I know who it is, but the name never comes to mind. The smell still faintly lingered in the room just like it lingered in the hallway. I followed it around until I stop at the dresser. The clothes all smell like it.

Maybe if I figure out who it is I can convince them to let me go.

I'm so anxious that I struggle to fall asleep, I just close my eyes, tears slip through the cracks.               Again.

When I woke up, I had a shower first thing, I just needed to do something other than stare at the wall.

The clock read 4:03, I don't know if it's really early or only mid afternoon.

The is bathroom stocked with men's shampoo and body wash. I come out of the steaming room and open the dresser doors. I move back at sit on the bed, just eyeballing the clothes, I could wear them; I mean I need clean clothes.

I stand and take a step at a time. I pull off a shirt for its hanger and pull it over my head over the top of my towel. The shirt is huge on me, right down to my knees.

I put on the men's boxers, but only while mine dries from the wash I gave it in the shower. I fold my clothes up and jump to put them on top of the dresser, I turn back to the bed and freeze.

The tray that was once empty of food, now is full. When did he come in?

I start to panic again.

Was he in here when I was showering?

Did he see anything?

What else did he do?

Can he see me now?

Is he going to hurt me?

There is another carnation. White with a little pink growing through the edge of the petals. There's a glass of water, a plate of eggs and bacon, and more fruit.

I ate a little but mainly just watched the clock turn. If I'm right, the clock has gone in circles three times, making it a day and a half since I've been taken; that is if he took me two days ago.

I sit in front of the door every time I wake up now, sometimes waking up face to face with the door because I got too tired.

I wake up to food next to me with a flower, white carnation with a rim of pink.

Every.

Single.

Time.

I get up for my spot on the floor and head to the bathroom. The mirror is not clear but I can make out my face; or at least what stares back at me. My soft blue eyes, now look drained. Hair tangled up, lumping at the back of my head. I pick it up and begin to weep.

I want him to just kill me - to end this.

I walk back to the door and notice my clothes from on top of the dresser are missing. I'm too tired to cry again.

I stand in front of the same brown wood. I bang my fist against the door. Then again. Over and over until I hear movement.

"I want out!" The sounds stop.

I slam the wood again.

"Help!"

"Help me!"

"Someone help me!"

"Please."

My voice, harsh, rattles with each syllable.

I begin to get angry. Angry at being ignored. Angry that I am helpless.

I pound the door, it shakes on its hinges, like a wild animal; I howl.

"Let me out!"

I hear steps. Closer and closer, they get to the door. It stops. I back away when I feel his presence just outside. "Please, just let me out, I don't even know who you are, I won't tell. Please!"

I creep closer and closer back towards the door. I reach my hand out and place my palm on the timber. "Please." I whisper out. I hear him walking back up the steps and a door close.

"No."

"No!"

I pick up the vase of carnations and throw it at the door. The glass shatters. It's remains go flying in all directions leaving a circle around the flowers. Water seeps into the grey carpet turning it a dark shade.

I scream and cry out; sliding down the wall, face in my hands. I cry out for help, for Alice, for God.

Anyone.

I don't realize until the blood drips on the carpet.

A glass shard, big compared to the remnants that litter the floor, sticking out of my arm. First my hand, still bandaged but healing nonetheless, and now my bicep.

I pull the shard out wailing while I do. I throw it to the rest of the glass, staining my mark on the floor.

I lie on my side, closing my eyes and letting the dark take me, just as it does I hear the door bang into the dresser.

I wished for death. I wished for this all to end. And it hasn't.

I wake up to a tray of food, a single white carnation, and a bandage around my arm. No! That was supposed to be it. My last moment, my final breath.

He takes my freedom and now my hope.

The glass is gone. All of it. Even the vase is now plastic.

I am scared so much more than before. I really am trapped, no escape, no hero, no spoon to dig through the walls. No hope. Nothing. I rock back and forth, self soothing like I did as a child.

I stare up from the floor at the carnation, what was once my favorite flower, is now my reminder.

A flower of love turns rotten, it wilts just as I do.

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