Read part one of this story here. 

 

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A dim bulb in the hallway illuminated the small dark room. Peering between steel cage bars, it seemed like she was in some sort of bedroom. The walls were gray, or brown—she couldn’t be sure—and while it looked relatively clean, there was a very dull but moldy smell to the place. It wasn’t overpowering, just bothersome. Across from her to the right was a big window so darkly tinted she could barely see outside, and suspected that no one could see in; from what looked like a vast field outside of her window, it didn’t look like anyone would pass by anytime soon in the first place. The only thing in the cage with her when she first woke up was a note:

“Sorry.”

 

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How’d she get here? It was that stupid wine bottle. She called the number, her supposed soulmate answered, they went to a sunflower field, and now, three weeks later, she was being held captive. As for who the captor was . . . well, she was unsure. The sunflower field was wonderful. The mysterious date was charming, funny, and the perfect gentleman with just the right amount of spice. He was a software engineer, extremely smart and pretty handsome. She’d wondered why he didn’t have a girlfriend.

The date itself was great, strolling around the golden maze. They conversed and laughed as if their souls had known each other for decades—it was actually pretty magical. They enjoyed each other’s company as dusk arrived, and then he suggested, almost regretfully, that they should call it a night because he didn’t want her to get home too late. They got up, packed the remnants of the picnic, and then everything went dark.

Here is where she woke up, in this cage, and the only reason she knew she had been in here for three weeks was because of the calendar on the wall. Someone came in every day and crossed off the previous day. The first time she woke up, she rattled the cage bars, kicked, banged, and screamed until her voice was sore and her body bloody and bruised. She fell asleep that night and woke up to a new note beside her. It read:

“Please stop hurting yourself. He won’t be happy if you’re hurt.”

Who is he? Why wouldn’t he be happy if I were hurt? She didn’t want to believe it, but this had to be the guy from the sunflower patch, from the wine bottle. Why else would she have been kidnapped the moment after finishing a date with a random stranger? Enemies weren’t a thing for her, and anyone that didn’t like her—well, she didn’t give them a reason to dislike her to the point of kidnapping. Corporate espionage? Nah, she didn’t even know what that really meant. It had to be him, and there was no way he was getting away with this. She knew that her company, family and friends were looking for her. But it was also past forty-eight hours—what if they thought she was dead and gave up?

No. That was not the case. It couldn’t be. Someone was out there looking for her. Who was handling things at the company? Her baby that she worked so hard for, day and night, to get to this level.  There was so much to be done and she was stuck here in this cage. Like an animal! An animal who HE, whoever he was, didn’t want hurting herself. What did that mean? Why the hell was she here?

In what was basically the dark for the last three weeks, she cradled herself in the corner of the cage. She had to figure out a way to get out of there. By week two, she had stopped eating the food and drinking the water they gave her, realizing it was drugged after having passed out every time she took a few bites. The only time they let her out of the cage was to go to the bathroom, which was across the hall. It was small, with no windows and no way of escape. Two guys would escort her to and fro three times a day. By the end of week three, she was starving. But she was going to hold out, because one way or another they were not going to be able to keep her there.

 

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She woke up to another note and a sizzling plate of what looked like turkey, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, greens and jerk chicken. Drool collected within her mouth and her stomach moaned as the scent of the savory goodness hit her nose. She opened the note; it said:

“Hello, I noticed you have not been eating. This makes me very unhappy. I want you to be healthy. Please eat. I don’t want to have to take drastic measures to make sure you are getting all the nutrition you need. Happy Thanksgiving!”

She looked up and jumped back. A guy she hadn’t seen before was standing in front of her right outside the cage. His dark brooding eyes bore into her soul and at first, she scuttled back to the corner, away from the plate, away from him. But despite being held in a cage, helpless, she felt rage build up inside her at the cheekiness of this stranger to stand there and look at her like he had the right to just stare. Turning her head and jutting out her chin in defiance, she looked at him with crystal daggers. He smiled.

“Don’t you dare smile at me! You’re sick and insane. How dare you lock me up in this cage? Who are you, anyway?” Her raspy shout reminded her that she had not used her voice in two weeks.

“You should be a lot nicer to me, and beg me to let you out of here. It’s a beautiful thing though, your spirit, so wild and untamed, despite the fact that you’ve been stuck in here for almost a month. I can’t wait to break that,” he quipped.

She had been there for nearly a month and he thought he was just going to break her? Who did he think he was, that he could take her from her life to try and tame her? She was a business woman, built a whole company on her back, and she was still young. In her line of work she had been talked down to, sabotaged, lied on, everything! People had said and done things to her that would have most running away, but did she ever run away? No, she spoke up, she made sure her voice was heard and she made sure she did what she needed to do to get things done. If he thought a cage was gonna break her, he had another thing coming!

Jumping up to her feet, eyes flashing in rage, she fumed, “Oh, I will not beg you for anything, you can be sure of that. You will release me from this terrible place and allow me to go home and live my life or I will make your life excruciatingly painful.”

“How will you do that from your cage, sweetheart?” he inquired, amused.

Her fury propelled her from the back of the cage. She flung her hands through the bars, grabbed him while hitting wildly at his face. He got her hands off and pushed her back. She lifted up the plate and threw the hot food at his face. The plate itself shattered against his head, and stumbled back, grabbing the injured area. He thundered, “You will pay for this, you insolent brat. You will learn your place!”

She froze at his words—they sounded so familiar, as if she had heard him say that before. But before she could contemplate it, something sharp hit her thigh and then everything went dark.