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Tears run down the boy's face and fall off his chin. He's curled up in a ball in the middle of the basement, blood seeping from his shackled wrists into his shirt. The chains that hung him from the ceiling just a few minutes ago now snake around him on the floor. The woman, silent, just sits there contemplating for a minute before grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him up the stairs. Thomas protests and tries to fight, but he's just too weak and broken to prevent himself from being dragged down the hallway and hurled into the bathroom. She locks the door. His bloody fists pound and he demands to be let out, but she's already gone. He slumps his back on the door and sits. If this is where he's staying for the rest of the day, he shouldn't complain- he's minimally bound and has unrestricted access to the toilet, sink and shower. But other than those features, the bathroom is mostly empty. Nothing could be used to escape.

After a few hours, he's calmed down, but he starts to feel hungry. He doesn't want to rely on on the woman for anything, but he hasn't eaten anything today except for a piece of bread. He tries to hold out for as long as he can, but he eventually has to give in and ask.

"Miss?" he calls hoarsely, "I- I'm going to need to be fed. I can't stay here without food." Pressing his ear to the door, he hears nothing.

"Hello? Excuse me, Miss?" Silence. He slumps against the wall and sighs.

KNOCK KNOCK. The noise surprises Thomas, who jumps up and rattles the door handle.

"Stop that. Thomas, I'm gonna give you some food, but you have to turn around and put your hands on the wall," she calls through the door.

"Oh. Uh. Thank you. Um, okay, one second." He turns with his back towards her voice and raises his arms so that they're in front of him on the opposite wall.

"Are your hands on the wall?"

"Yes."

"I'm opening the door. I have a knife."

"Could've guessed that."

"Don't be a smartass."

The door opens and she sets a paper bag on the counter, looks at him for a moment, then leaves and locks the door again. Thomas lowers his arms. They still ache from being hung up. He opens the bag and inside is an apple, a PB&J sandwich, a juicebox, and a cookie. He flouts. "What, am I nine years old?"

"Oh, you don't like your food?"

"No! Yes! I mean, it's fine. Thank you." He takes the cookie first.

"Don't tell me you're eating your dessert right now."

"Um."

"Good lord."

He munches on his food for a while. "Hey, uh, are you still out there?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay." Thomas takes his sandwich and sits in the empty bathtub. "Miss, can we just... talk? There's hardly been a moment where I haven't had a gag in my mouth. I need to talk. For my sanity."

"Sure."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath, but sits in silence for another minute or two. What can he say to the person who basically tortured him?

"Miss?"

"Yeah?"

"Why, um... Why are you like this?"

She laughs at him. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know. Bad childhood, life of crime, painful past?"

She laughs again. "I was a student athlete. A solid B student. I participated in wrestling, cross country and water polo. All varsity. After high school, I tried college. It didn't work. I didn't know what to do. I had a friend who was doing alright so I followed his lead. I just ended up here."

"You just ended up kidnapping someone for ransom? How does that work?"

"It's a just another source of income."

Thomas stops. "How many people have you kidnapped?" She doesn't answer.

"I don't even know your name." Still nothing.

"Are you ever going to let me go?" Silence. Thomas fumbles and goes to put his ear on the door. "Hello? Are you there?"

"I'm here."

"You're scaring me."

"Good."

Thomas feels numb. This woman is crazy. Still, he tries to make a connection. He read somewhere that if you can get your kidnapper to sympathize with you, they might let you go. "My mom... she's not gonna recover from that phone call, is she?"

"With therapy, she might."

Thomas sighs and stares at the wall. "I can't believe that she- that I... She won't forget the sound of me screaming."

"I hope your whole family was listening to that call. I hope everyone you know was listening."

He slams his hand on the door. "How can you say something so cruel?" Thomas demands with a crack in his voice. He cradles his face in his palms. "They must think I'm dead."

"I won't let you die."

"The script said 'If you forget who's in charge, Thomas will be killed.' You didn't mean that?"

"No. I'm not a murderer."

He pauses to contemplate. He doesn't know if he can trust her word.

"What do you think of me, Thomas?" she asks. He's surprised. He thinks the answer should be obvious.

"I think you're crazy. I think you're a monster. What kind of person kidnaps and tortures someone for the hell of it?"

"That's fair. You're hurt." She sounds dissatisfied with his answer.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know what I expected. But I, ah, I just want you to know that I- nevermind. No. Nevermind."

He sits up, half curious and half afraid. "What?"

She sighs. There's silence between the two for a few minutes, then she starts again tentatively. "You're special. You weren't chosen randomly. That's not a comfort, I'm sure. But you're unique. I don't know how to say it."

He's frozen. He doesn't understand. What the hell goes on in her mind? "C-can we change the subject?" he stammers.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, what music do you like?"

She laughs. He gets the feeling that she thinks everything he says is stupid. She tells him she likes a variety centering around rock. He tells her he likes classical and jazz, since Nico is a musician and that's what he plays. He doesn't like exposing himself to her, but shes the only company he has. They go on about their interests and Thomas feels like he's talking with a normal person, but the shackles around his wrists remind him that he's a prisoner. But the friendly conversation might work. If he can get on friendly terms with her, she might let him go.

--------

In the evening, she leaves him. He's alone, curled up in the empty tub and falls asleep. When he wakes, it's the middle of the night and there's another paper bag on the counter. He gets up to look inside and sees another sandwich, juice, apples and two cookies. He takes an apple.

In the stillness of the night, the house creaks. He listens to see if he can hear an owl or something. Thomas lies on the floor, staring at the ceiling of the bathroom when he hears... something. It's faint but steady. It's a melody. It sounds like a guitar, low and bitter. It has to be the woman playing it from upstairs. He hadn't pegged her as a guitarist, and he was sure she wouldn't be playing if she knew he was awake. The sound was deep and dark, chilling and alluring. It reminds him of a cold desert night. He listens to the song for a long time before he falls asleep again.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

So this chapter's pretty relaxed compared to what happened last time. That's good, because Thomas needs a break.
When I was drawing Thomas, my software crashed and I lost my progress and I had to redraw him all over again! :/ but at least I'm getting a little better at backgrounds! yay!

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Description
Tears run down the boy's face and fall off his chin. He's curled up in a ball in the middle of the basement, blood seeping from his shackled wrists into his shirt. The chains that hung him from the ceiling just a few minutes ago now snake around him on the floor. The woman, silent, just sits there contemplating for a minute before grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him up the stairs. Thomas protests and tries to fight, but he's just too weak and broken to prevent himself from being dragged down the hallway and hurled into the bathroom. She locks the door. His bloody fists pound and he demands to be let out, but she's already gone. He slumps his back on the door and sits. If this is where he's staying for the rest of the day, he shouldn't complain- he's minimally bound and has unrestricted access to the toilet, sink and shower. But other than those features, the bathroom is mostly empty. Nothing could be used to escape.

After a few hours, he's calmed down, but he starts to feel hungry. He doesn't want to rely on on the woman for anything, but he hasn't eaten anything today except for a piece of bread. He tries to hold out for as long as he can, but he eventually has to give in and ask.

"Miss?" he calls hoarsely, "I- I'm going to need to be fed. I can't stay here without food." Pressing his ear to the door, he hears nothing.

"Hello? Excuse me, Miss?" Silence. He slumps against the wall and sighs.

KNOCK KNOCK. The noise surprises Thomas, who jumps up and rattles the door handle.

"Stop that. Thomas, I'm gonna give you some food, but you have to turn around and put your hands on the wall," she calls through the door.

"Oh. Uh. Thank you. Um, okay, one second." He turns with his back towards her voice and raises his arms so that they're in front of him on the opposite wall.

"Are your hands on the wall?"

"Yes."

"I'm opening the door. I have a knife."

"Could've guessed that."

"Don't be a smartass."

The door opens and she sets a paper bag on the counter, looks at him for a moment, then leaves and locks the door again. Thomas lowers his arms. They still ache from being hung up. He opens the bag and inside is an apple, a PB&J sandwich, a juicebox, and a cookie. He flouts. "What, am I nine years old?"

"Oh, you don't like your food?"

"No! Yes! I mean, it's fine. Thank you." He takes the cookie first.

"Don't tell me you're eating your dessert right now."

"Um."

"Good lord."

He munches on his food for a while. "Hey, uh, are you still out there?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay." Thomas takes his sandwich and sits in the empty bathtub. "Miss, can we just... talk? There's hardly been a moment where I haven't had a gag in my mouth. I need to talk. For my sanity."

"Sure."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath, but sits in silence for another minute or two. What can he say to the person who basically tortured him?

"Miss?"

"Yeah?"

"Why, um... Why are you like this?"

She laughs at him. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know. Bad childhood, life of crime, painful past?"

She laughs again. "I was a student athlete. A solid B student. I participated in wrestling, cross country and water polo. All varsity. After high school, I tried college. It didn't work. I didn't know what to do. I had a friend who was doing alright so I followed his lead. I just ended up here."

"You just ended up kidnapping someone for ransom? How does that work?"

"It's a just another source of income."

Thomas stops. "How many people have you kidnapped?" She doesn't answer.

"I don't even know your name." Still nothing.

"Are you ever going to let me go?" Silence. Thomas fumbles and goes to put his ear on the door. "Hello? Are you there?"

"I'm here."

"You're scaring me."

"Good."

Thomas feels numb. This woman is crazy. Still, he tries to make a connection. He read somewhere that if you can get your kidnapper to sympathize with you, they might let you go. "My mom... she's not gonna recover from that phone call, is she?"

"With therapy, she might."

Thomas sighs and stares at the wall. "I can't believe that she- that I... She won't forget the sound of me screaming."

"I hope your whole family was listening to that call. I hope everyone you know was listening."

He slams his hand on the door. "How can you say something so cruel?" Thomas demands with a crack in his voice. He cradles his face in his palms. "They must think I'm dead."

"I won't let you die."

"The script said 'If you forget who's in charge, Thomas will be killed.' You didn't mean that?"

"No. I'm not a murderer."

He pauses to contemplate. He doesn't know if he can trust her word.

"What do you think of me, Thomas?" she asks. He's surprised. He thinks the answer should be obvious.

"I think you're crazy. I think you're a monster. What kind of person kidnaps and tortures someone for the hell of it?"

"That's fair. You're hurt." She sounds dissatisfied with his answer.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know what I expected. But I, ah, I just want you to know that I- nevermind. No. Nevermind."

He sits up, half curious and half afraid. "What?"

She sighs. There's silence between the two for a few minutes, then she starts again tentatively. "You're special. You weren't chosen randomly. That's not a comfort, I'm sure. But you're unique. I don't know how to say it."

He's frozen. He doesn't understand. What the hell goes on in her mind? "C-can we change the subject?" he stammers.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, what music do you like?"

She laughs. He gets the feeling that she thinks everything he says is stupid. She tells him she likes a variety centering around rock. He tells her he likes classical and jazz, since Nico is a musician and that's what he plays. He doesn't like exposing himself to her, but shes the only company he has. They go on about their interests and Thomas feels like he's talking with a normal person, but the shackles around his wrists remind him that he's a prisoner. But the friendly conversation might work. If he can get on friendly terms with her, she might let him go.

--------

In the evening, she leaves him. He's alone, curled up in the empty tub and falls asleep. When he wakes, it's the middle of the night and there's another paper bag on the counter. He gets up to look inside and sees another sandwich, juice, apples and two cookies. He takes an apple.

In the stillness of the night, the house creaks. He listens to see if he can hear an owl or something. Thomas lies on the floor, staring at the ceiling of the bathroom when he hears... something. It's faint but steady. It's a melody. It sounds like a guitar, low and bitter. It has to be the woman playing it from upstairs. He hadn't pegged her as a guitarist, and he was sure she wouldn't be playing if she knew he was awake. The sound was deep and dark, chilling and alluring. It reminds him of a cold desert night. He listens to the song for a long time before he falls asleep again.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

So this chapter's pretty relaxed compared to what happened last time. That's good, because Thomas needs a break.
When I was drawing Thomas, my software crashed and I lost my progress and I had to redraw him all over again! :/ but at least I'm getting a little better at backgrounds! yay!

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