Tristan Sable || Dream (demos_oneiroi) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-03-18 13:57:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | dream |
Who: Tristan (narrative)
What: Post-kidnapping reaction to the blackout
Where: In a cell under the bank
When: Tuesday night during the blackout
Warnings: Description of kidnapping ouches and captivity
It was dark.
And silent.
It hadn't always been dark. In fact, for a while, it had been nothing but light, all coming from a caged, naked bulb high on the wall. He'd woken up to it, what seemed like days ago since he had no way to gauge the time, and it had only just gone off. The sudden darkness had left him feeling blind, adrenaline racing through his veins and making him want to run away. But there was no where to go, and no way to get out.
And he was beginning to think that the dark was worse than the light.
In the dark, there wasn't even the view of the small cell to distract him from the different aches his body held - his wrenched shoulder, his bitten lip, a knot on his head that had split the skin and bled down the side of his face and into his hair. He wasn't distracted from the way his mind kept wandering, thinking about his sister and wondering if she was alright, wishing he could go back in time and not open the door, wondering why he'd been kidnapped in the first place. Did it have to do with the money? Did all rich people need to worry about kidnapping?
Or was it about something else completely?
He wondered if anyone would ever come to find him. If it would be the same asshole that took him in the first place, or if it would be someone to help. He didn't know who would help, though. There was no one in his life to miss him and come looking. Would the lights ever come back on? Would it be even worse once they did?
If he knew where he was, he would sleep and try to find someone he could tell. If he told enough people, someone would have to remember and wonder, right?
He closed his eyes in the darkness and tried to will himself to sleep. It was the only thing he could do.