Held

Thoughts erupted in my mind. I couldn't remember where I was. I lifted my arms. Well, tried to. I was being held down by something. I pulled sharply at my wrist and ankles. Thin wire type rope dug into my flesh and I cried out. It was muffled. There was something on my head. Who am I? Why am I here? Helen. No, Harriet. Hermione. Yes that's it. Hermione Granger. That was me.

I'm in a hospital. Yes, there's been in accident. I turned my head and there was a sharp pain in my temple. Yes, I've had a head injury. Why do I need restraints? Maybe I'd attacked someone. I'm lying on a stretcher. No. I felt the hard stone beneath me. I'm not on a stretcher. I smelled a sickly sweet smell. Death. No, this is not the chemical, stuffy smell of a hospital. Maybe there was a disaster. Yes, people hurt. I was taken to a room to await my treatment. That would be it. No, where was a nurse? Someone to see that I was awake and awaiting the doctor. Had I been sedated? No, I was trapped under something. Debris. Yes, I was trapped. No there was nothing on me. Was I wearing clothes? Yes, I rubbed my legs together. I was wearing my corduroy trousers. I felt the shirtsleeves around me.

I arched my back and tried to lift up. I heard wheezy laughter in a corner. Pain and horror flooded my body as I realized what was going on. I was being held prisoner. I screamed and thrashed like a fish caught on a boat. I was grabbed and the man put his full weight against my stomach.

"Shut it or I'll bleed you like a dying animal."

The voice was muffled, but I could tell it was a man. A madman. I tried to clear my mind. I could be anywhere. I could be in the middle of busily America or some small village in Africa full of the poor starved people who spoke by clicking their tongues. Once again I was filled with dread. The man spoke again.

"I am going to untie you. You are going to stay quiet or I'll cut you into bits and feed you to your mummy and daddy. Muggle mummy and daddy. Nod if you've understood."

I nodded so vigorously I got the sharp pain in my head again. The accent was clearly that of an Englishmen. I tried to stay calm as he undid my restraints, wrist first. What could I say? He was struggling with my ankles now as I pulled myself into a sitting position. I could talk to him like a person, yes that would be it. He finally gave a sharp tug on the rope-wire and it sprang loose. I tried to stand. He roughly pushed me back and gave another wheezy chuckle. It angered me. He jerked the hood off my head sharply and it made me cry out in pain. He gave another laugh.

"Drink"

He held a glass to my lips and I drank the coppery water quickly. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. I blinked a couple of times, but all I cold see were shapes. I saw the big shape of a man in front of me. I saw big, bulky shapes like broken shelves and cabinets adorning the walls. I thought again of what to say.

"Why am I here?"

I thought it silently, but I couldn't stop myself. Another wheezy chuckle.

"Why? I know what you want to say. Why me? That's what poor Millie asked. She cried. Just kept on and on. WHY ME? HELP ME. Rubbish. I did her in quick. Couldn't shut her up. Not that anyone could hear her mind you."

Millie? There were more before me? Oh my god. I wasn't the only one. This guy was a serial murderer. How long would I stay alive? How many died before me?

As if reading my mind, the man laughed and said:

"Millie, Carrie, Rosie, and Emmy. My pet names. Charming girls, all about your age. Fun. I did them easily."

He laughed again.

"You piece of worthless shit."

"What?"

His expression jumped from something of humor to anger in a split second. I thought he was going to strike me; he got extreme close to my face almost like a lover. He stared me straight in the eyes, expecting me to cower in fear. I stared back daring him.

"You are a piece of shit, no, you are my piece of shit."

I looked straight at him. I spat directly between his eyes. He looked shock and then angry once more. He was boiling with rage I could tell. He put a hand to his head and cleared the glob of spit. Then, with his other hand, he slapped across my face. My head jerked to the side and I felt a stinging on my cheek and a crick in my neck from turning so hard. I felt the red hotness creep up my neck around my face. I began to kick and scream and hit at him. I hit every part of him I could reach. I felt blood in my hands as he started to overpower me.

"Bastard! Bastard! I'll kill you! Let me go! I'll fucking slit your throat in your sleep!"

He, once again, put his full weight against my abdomen and held my arms to the floor. I felt him pull up the wire rope and fasten it hard around my wrist. I twisted and thrashed and screamed. He made the mistake of moving his weight toward my legs and I kicked him off of me. I felt my ankle collide with his jaw and I heard a crack. My ankle throbbed painfully. He grabbed my legs and strung them together with the wire. I didn't stop wriggling and screaming.

"You fucking bastard! They'll look for you! I'll fucking kill you!"

He got up and backed away. I was completely secured to the floor. I saw a black trickle run down his temple and a part of his hair clumped. I felt the hot wetness of blood on my hands. We both panted with the effort and struggle. He laughed again. I stopped screaming to catch my breath. He walked toward me and shoved a nasty oily rag in my mouth. I tried not to gag and felt bile rise in my throat. I tried to scream, but I couldn't.

"Watch it, girly."

He shoved the hood over my head roughly. I heard his feet clunk along the silent room. I heard him fumble with something the strike a lighter. I heard the unmistakable sound of a long drag on a cigarette and then the smell of the strong wafted through the hood. I concentrated on breathing through my nose. I counted my breaths. It was hard to breath through my nose, when I wanted to take a huge breath through my mouth to fill my lungs. I heard the man get up to leave and then a door slammed. I concentrated on my breathing and shortly after fell into a disturbing sleep.