Trapped With A Killer

Chapter Five

When I heard the locks start to click I figured it must be morning. Though, without any light or proper sleep it was hard to tell. I groaned and lifted myself into a sitting position as Wheaton motioned for me to step out of the room. He led me to a small card table he had set up, with a bowl of cereal and a carton of milk waiting for me. But I didn't sit right away.

"I.. I feel really gross. I need to take a shower," I asked meekly. I wasn't really sure I could even keep anything down at this point, and I couldn't stand the dried fluid and blood caked and itching on my privates and thighs. Surprisingly, he nodded.

"Sure, I put towels and stuff in there last night. I need to go upstairs to get ready for work." Then he stepped up and brushed a hand against my cheek as I whipped my head away. "Stay here, be good." With that, he climbed the stairs, and I noticed the lack of any sound of him locking the door behind him.

Quickly, my heart pounding with the possibilities and fear of escape, I showered and scrubbed my skin raw. I tried to think through my options, and the only logical conclusion was that this was a trap. He'd be waiting right outside of the door to see if I'd listen to him or not. Maybe he wasn't sure if I'd be worth the trouble of keeping around, and this was the perfect way to get myself killed. But I needed to try.

I quickly assessed the room for the best weapon, and I decided to grab one of the folding chairs by the table. As I crept up the stairs one at a time I convinced myself that this might be the one chance I had to try to escape, and if I didn't take it I'd be locked down here forever. It still didn't shock me when I opened the door to reveal him sitting there, drinking a coffee. He barely reacted to me, other than releasing a heavy sigh and setting down his mug. I froze, waiting to see what Wheaton would do next, but he just continued to sit there. So, I did something stupid. I threw the chair at him, and I ran.

The chair missed him and hit his coffee, sending it crashing to the floor and splattering the drink across the kitchen. With a burst of energy I started sprinting towards the door to the garage, but he'd been more ready for that than he'd looked, and I barely made it a few feet before he was on top of me. My chin had cracked on the hard tile as I tumbled to the ground, and blood burst into my mouth as my teeth clamped down on my tongue.

"Urg!" I groaned as I tried to wiggle out from under him, but he'd positioned himself so his body weight pressed my torso into the ground, and I just wasn't strong enough to push him off. Wheaton sighed again, and honestly I was getting really sick and tired of him doing that.

"Did you know? I have deadbolts on all the doors. So, even if you'd managed to get there, you couldn't leave without my keys. You strike me as such a smart girl, Reyna. So, I don't understand why you act so fucking stupid." I laid there helpless, my labored breaths filling my ears, but I stopped struggling. There was no point, and what fight I'd managed to muster was gone. But Wheaton obviously wasn't done.

"Actually, I do get it. I mean, you had to try once. If you didn't, it'd be like you wanted to stay here, right?" He leaned his head down next to mine, and I felt his hot breath tickle the back of my ear. "Fight all you like, but I know what you are. You're a survivor, a coward. At your core, you just don't want to die." Maybe he was right, but honestly I didn't care at that point. I just needed him off of me.

"I-I'm sorry, Wheaton. I won't do it again. Please, please get off, please I can't breathe..." He stood up, dragging me with him by the back of my shirt. I stumbled down the stairs as he roughly led me back to the small room. He ordered me to sit on the mattress, and that's what I did. He went to the back of the basement where the bins were to retrieve something and slammed a heavy crate down at my feet. It landed with a thud and the tell-tale clank of chains.