Stuck In a Situation

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I'm stuck between trying to live my life and trying to run from it.

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I jumped, snapped my head 90 degrees to my left, and sighed as my eyes fell on a familiar stranger. My kidnapper.

The 'panther' stood at the door of the small, yellow box room. He was leaning on the handle of the door yet neither of his feet lifted off the floor. The right leg was crossed over the left which he put most of his weight on. He wore the same clothes as the last time I saw him, grey slim jeans with a black belt holding them up along with a simple black t-shirt tucked in at the top of the pants. There was no jewelry visible. But one thing that stood out to me was his bright mint-colored hair. No roots showed which meant that he had got it done quite recently. He wore tawny brown timberland shoes with thick soles. Even with the odd 1 to 2 extra inches, we wasn't much taller than me, about 5'8 or 5'9, still, he was evidently stronger.

'You gonna drink that or not?' He asked in a stern tone dragging me out of my daze to look at the clear glass of water in my hands. I shared glances between him and the cup before deciding to place it back where I had found it in the first place. 'So you'd rather die of thirst, noted.' He didn't seem that pleased, he was angry but he wasn't frustrated, he wasn't .... anything. The closest thing I could describe was that he was tired but even that didn't seem to fit his mood.

'How long was I out?' My voice was strained and even sounded dry. It hurt to talk. It felt like my vocal cords were replaced with sandpaper and they were slowly grazing away at the wall of my throat with every syllable I spoke. Despite the pain that my body was drowning in, I tried my best to show as little discomfort as possible. Relatively hard as nothing in this situation gave me a sense of comfort or hope.

'Don't know, I'd say about an hour or two, not long, so nothing to worry about. Right, come with me.' He turned facing away from me and into the hall. 'And..' He paused. 'Don't try any funny shit. All of the doors are locked and there are more of us then...., well than you.' He continued his journey to wherever we were going. 'I'm not that dumb' I muttered. 'You the one stuck in this situation, not me,' he smirked and I remained silent. He was right. It's my fault that I'm here. No one else to blame but me here.

The man took a left and went through the closed door at the end of the hallway. I was on his heels. "Is she up?" A deep voice questioned. No words were exchanged between the two as I walked into the room.

The room was a dark office. Small but spacious. Very detailed brown design, wrapped around the walls around me. The wall opposite where I was facing was filled with many shelves containing a variety of different books. I noticed that each book was a hardback book. Just in front of the library wall was a wooden table. It was light at the edges but became a dark brown-reddish color about 5 inches from the edge. African Blackwood. That was what the table was made out of. Expensive wood. Actually one of the most expensive wood in the world. So these guys obviously have money. I mean, considering their families' status, I'm not surprised but I didn't think that they could have been this rich, to spend ten thousand and up for a table. Mad. The desk had a computer couple of files scattered on it with a cup and pens with highlighters.

I lifted my eyes to meet the person who was sitting behind this expensive desk.

'She is, I see.'