Cage

There she is. In the living flesh.

The girl from the picture.

Mine.

I stare at her from across the room, not moving an inch. She seems locked in place. Her lips trembling. Her fingers clutching her thin clothes. She seems terrified.

She should be.

It’s dangerous here.

She shares my fate now.

But I don’t want to scare her any more than she already is. So I stay put and watch her from my bed. I don’t want her to do anything to hurt herself. She’s too precious. Too important.

Too pretty.

Her long, pearly white hair is completely in tangles from her ordeal, but it doesn’t make her any less appetizing. Especially with those doe-eyed looks she keeps giving me.

She smells nice too. I can’t stop sniffing the air around me; that’s how in love I am with her scent. I can’t stop looking at her. Can’t stop wanting to inch closer. It takes every ounce of self-control not to. My body is greedy … yearning to finally meet this girl sitting only inches away from me. But I know I have to be patient.

Patience … that’s what he always says.

So I sit and stare … all through her waking up … and even after she’s already seen me.

Our eyes lock.

I’m not going to pull my eyes from hers.

I want her to see me.

I want her to know I’m here.

And that neither of us is going anywhere.

* * *

Ella

The room is so dark I can barely make out a thing. But there’s one thing I can clearly see.

A man in the corner sitting on a bed.

I swallow away the lump in my throat and try not to move.

I don’t know who he is or what he wants, but I know it can’t be good.

Is he the one who took me? Or a fellow captive? Or something worse?

So far, he hasn’t said a word or moved a muscle, and I’m beginning to wonder if he’s sleeping … if he’s even alive. But it can’t be because he’s looking straight at me.

And for some reason, it feels impossible to take my eyes off his.

After a few seconds, I manage to tear them away and I quickly scramble to the bed. Then I gaze around the room, looking for an exit. My cage is made entirely of glass. To my left is a black door leading into my cell, which I assume is locked. To my right is a small, square box inside the glass wall. I wonder what it’s used for.

Outside this glass prison, I see another black door, which I assume leads to a room from which my captor can walk in and out of the prison. A sort of in-between room.

A tiny rug on the floor in the middle of the cell provides little softness. Above me is a vent, which blows air into the cell. There’s another one up ahead. In the far-left corner is what looks like a toilet, and in the right corner of my cell, right next to my bed, is a small water tap.

I wonder what else this place is hiding.

However, the moment I think about getting up and exploring my cell, I’m immediately reminded of the dark figure across from me, breathing in and out loudly.

His arms fall off his thighs, and his hands clutch the bed. They’re huge.

Every muscle in his body flexes as he slowly gets up from the bed and saunters my way, his footsteps heavy … like that of a giant.

My heart is beating in my throat as I slowly back into a corner as far away from him as I can. Something inside me tells me I should be more scared of him than my environment.

The closer he gets, the more menacing he appears. The small light hanging from the wall at the far end of the room only barely lights his presence, but it’s enough to see him. His posture is like that of a bear … broad as if he’s about to break through the glass. But he doesn’t. Instead, he approaches me with hawk-like eyes, coming to a stop right in front of the glass. He’s so big; his head almost touches the ceiling while mine doesn’t even come close.

I swallow again at the sight of his size.

And I’m not just talking height.

Muscles everywhere, nothing covering him but simple camouflage shorts. I can’t imagine the size of what’s inside although I can make out quite a bulge. I can’t even focus; that’s how flabbergasted I am by the man who looks more like a beast than a human.

He looks unkempt.

Savage.

The scruffy beard and moustache can’t hide the scars underneath. They’re all over his body and face, and there’s one right under his eye and across his thick, bushy brow.

My lips part, but nothing comes out.

As usual.

The moment I need my voice the most, it fails me.

He paces back and forth in front of the glass as if he’s deciding what to do to me. Observing me.

His nostrils flare.

He takes a sniff.

A hint of a smile tips his lips up briefly.

Goose bumps scatter across my skin.

Who is this man? And what does he want with me?

He cocks his head and his eyes narrow … and then he turns around and walks back to his bed again, sits down, and pretends he’s not there.

I wonder why.

I slowly get up from my corner, trying not to aggravate him. It feels like I’m stuck in a cage with a tiger mere feet away from me, ready to pounce. Any movement could kill me, so I go slow.

However, I’m too curious to stay put. Too desperate to get out that I just have to feel my way around every nook and cranny. Every inch of glass, I have to feel it. From bottom to top, my fingers leave nothing unscathed. But there isn’t a single crack to be found.

“There’s no way out.”

The voice is deep … so deep it feels like a growl from an animal even though I know it isn’t.

It’s him.

The man across the room.

I can tell because the sound came from his direction, and I haven’t seen or heard anyone come in.

But that voice … it instantly draws my attention.

I glance over my shoulder at the dangerous figure on the bed, wondering why he’s telling me this. If this is his way of testing me.

But nothing indicates he wants to continue. No other words come from his mouth. There’s only that slight smile on his face.

Suddenly, a loud screeching noise startles me. I turn my back against the wall, searching for the source. A door in a far corner of the room opens right next to the lamp, and a middle-aged man steps inside. When he spots me, he rubs his head, specifically the spot where he’s going partially bald.

He clears his throat and walks up to the glass cage.

* * *

I freeze and make myself as small as I can, pushing myself against the glass as far away from him as possible.

With a creepy smile on his face, he stalks around the cage, and I get the feeling he’s trying to gauge my reaction. I guess he must be wondering why I haven’t screamed yet. I’m wondering that myself too.

The man’s eyes betray his fascination with my reaction. Amusing, maybe, judging from his vicious smile. But to me, the strangest thing isn’t him pacing around outside the glass cage. It’s the man in the cage right next to me.

Because he doesn’t respond to this man outside watching us.

I look at him then back at the man lurking around, and I can’t help but notice he doesn’t even seem to care.

What is going on?

Frowning, I try to get his attention, but the man in the cage doesn’t seem to be interested in me anymore. All he does is stare at the other man outside and wander around.

Who are they?

Suddenly, the man is right beside me with only the thick glass separating us, and I’m spooked.

For an instant, I forgot to keep an eye on him while I was staring at my cage companion, and now this scary man is inspecting me from up close.

“No need to be afraid …” he hums.

His voice is soft but slimy. Totally not like the other guy’s gruffness.

He cocks his head. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

I narrow my eyes and cringe from the way he seems so interested in me, despite being the man who’s outside the cage, not in.

He must be the one who took me from my home.

The one who keeps us here.

I just stare.

His eyes narrow too, and he focuses on my forehead. “You’re bleeding. Must’ve been from the trip. You put up quite the fight. I even had to restrain you while driving.” He smiles again. “We’ll get that wound taken care of.”

The word ‘we’ makes me shiver. But why can’t I remember anything about the whole ordeal? Must’ve been the drugs in the cloth he held against my mouth. Or maybe he gave me something else too so I’d finally calm down.

“Tell me your name,” he says.

My lips part, ready to answer, but my voice is as hollow as his heart.

The only thing that follows is silence.

“Not the talkative type, are you?” he muses after a while. “Doesn’t matter.”

He wanders around the cages again, seemingly checking every nook and cranny. I wonder if he’s testing whether his contraptions will hold up.

“So … since you won’t talk, I’ll start. You can call me Graham. Nice to meet you, Ella.”

Just the mere mention of my name makes my eyes widen.

How does he know?

I glare at him, absorbing his facial expressions and posture, but no matter how hard I look, he doesn’t seem remotely familiar. I don’t know him, so then how does he know me?

“I take it you’ve already made yourself at home?” he asks, giving me that creepy smile again.

I don’t answer, but I don’t look away either. I want him to see me. I want him to look at me and me alone. I want him to feel the pain that I feel. Maybe one day I’ll make him feel.

“Good.” He nods a few times even though he’s conversing entirely with himself. I wonder what the purpose of his visit is. If he’s checking to see how I’ve settled in. If he’s figuring out a way to make me talk. Or if he’s just trying to make me feel uneasy. Whatever it is, it’s working all right.

I’m waiting for his next words, but then he suddenly turns and starts walking.

I can’t let him leave.

I have to know why I’m here.

So I bang on the glass as hard as I can ... as fast as I can.

The sudden noise makes my neighbor home in on me like a drone. The look on his face switches between shock and worry, causing me to instantly regret what I just did. What if the man who just froze in his tracks flips out?

Pulls me from my prison?

Hurts me?

Murders me?

Shivers run up and down my spine as I slowly lower my hand, hoping he didn’t hear.

But of course, he did.

Because he’s turning around and walking back to me. He wears pure determination in his eyes. The kind that could make you scream. But I can’t. No matter how much I wish I could.

Right in front of the glass, he stops.

We stare at each other for what feels like minutes before I finally gather the courage to do something about my questions. The desire to know is greater than the desire to stay safe. I’m already in danger just by being here. And answers to my questions may just be my way out.

So I slowly raise my hand and point at myself.

He purses his lips. “You want to know why you were chosen?”

I nod.

A wicked smile spreads on his face. “You’ll find out soon.”

Before I can make him tell me more, he’s turned around and walked off.