Chapter Text
Your janitorial equipment rattles slightly in its cart as you turn the door knob to the now vacant hospital room. The rays of daybreak peek through the curtains on your last room for this shift, your shoulders relaxing knowing you were so close to going home. The man who once occupied this space had finally been discharged. You hadn’t ever seen him but apparently he had been asking about you. A lot. One of the on staff nurses wanted to gossip tonight. She told you about the oddball staying in the now desolate room. Apparently the patient had seen you come into the hospital before your shift started one night and hadn’t stopped talking about you until he was finally released. He claimed to have fallen madly in love with you, saying you looked exactly like a rabbit he was trying to catch in his recent dreams. However, he had come into the hospital a few days ago due to a bad head injury. The person that brought him in said he was fond of climbing trees and a branch he was sitting on snapped.
It was strange knowing someone had been that hyper focused on you. You didn’t interact with patients at all. You only cleaned the empty rooms and the lounges late at night. But you couldn’t let yourself feel bothered by it. He was injured and confused. You never saw him, and the nurses would never give up important information to a stranger. You shook the thought away as you turned up the music on your airpods and finished cleaning the hospital room. The woman at the front desk wished you a good morning as you waved goodbye with your jingling keycard in hand. 6am on the dot. Now you could make a quick breakfast and head to sleep. You had the next three days off to recover and get the things done that you had been putting off.
It was hard to juggle a night shift job and your normal life. But you always made it work somehow. You had to, you lived alone after all. You opened the door to your tiny apartment, slipping out of your shoes with a light kick of your feet. It was another day of proving your parents wrong. They didn’t believe you were capable of independence. They wanted you to stay where they could see you, regardless of how old you were. But being 21 meant that you should have all the freedom to do all of the adult things you could dream of. Drinking a cold beer under the summer sun, buying a strawberry flavored vape like your favorite coworkers, and even just owning your own apartment.
You just wanted to finally be recognized as an adult. You packed up your things and surprised them with the announcement. Right before taking off the next morning with the last of your things. It has been six months since you’ve been on your own. You loved it. Decorating your apartment how you saw fit. Eating what you wanted when you wanted. Staying up late and sleeping all day. And complete privacy to do whatever you wanted in your rented space.
You turned on the light with a quick squint of your eyes from the brightness. Your apartment was tiny. A neat little studio on the fourth floor of your complex. Usually you wouldn’t mind taking the stairs, but today you felt so tired that you caved and used the often desolate elevator to take you up. It was always quiet since you worked late night shifts cleaning at the hospital. You loved the peace and your neighbors did too. You bumped the door to your apartment shut with a yawn and stretched your arms over your head, causing your joints to pop. Entering the kitchen to make a slice of cheesy toast before you showered with your keys tossed haphazardly onto the resin coated counter.
Your appetite dwindled significantly in favor of sleep the longer you stood in the kitchen space. The ‘after work high’ never lasted as long as you wished it would. But you could always clean and make a snack when you woke up in a few hours. You finished your toast and slowly undressed, dropping your clothes to the floor as you entered your bathroom for a quick rinse.
Your skin always lingered with the scent of lemony cleaner and Lysol spray. It used to make you nauseous when you first started cleaning overnight. But after a few months you stopped gagging at the overwhelming aroma. You lathered yourself in soap, making sure to watch your hair and face. You brushed your teeth with heavy eyelids as your hair started to coil at the ends, dripping with water. You finished up, drying yourself with a towel and shutting off the light to your bathroom. You slipped into your comfortable pajamas and made sure your curtains were drawn tightly as you eased into bed. Your blankets hugging your body as you sighed with content. When you woke up, your days off would begin. You could wash your laundry, go grocery shopping, make plans to see your friends when the sun came back up, whatever you wanted to do. Your parents always fussed over the world being scary and dangerous but you always saw them as just paranoid because of social media telling them there are monsters and fiends that live online. They didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. But they were just too overbearing. You could take care of yourself just fine.
You’re fine.
You were fine.
You didn’t remember falling asleep at all when you settled into bed.
You remember a haunting dream. Or maybe it was a terrifying memory considering what was happening now.
The feeling of being folded into an impossible shape and crammed into a wooden box. Your wrists and ankles are bound with plastic zip ties that dug against your skin, something soft and cottony was stuffed in your mouth with an adhesive you assumed to be tape covering your lips. You were staring up at the orange and purple sky with exhausted eyes that never seemed to close. You watched the sky devoid of soft, white, cottony clouds go from the orange sunrise, to the delicate blue of the day. Soon transitioning to the violet and orange sunset, then pitch black with not a single star to be seen. All of this was witnessed through a tiny, circle shaped hole above you. Your body remained folded like origami paper into that impossible shape. Aching painfully to be freed from the suffocating wooden box you were stuck in. Slowly drifting and rocking to an unknown place before you had closed your eyes again. The smell of salt water, the sound of crashing waves. This was supposed to be an odd dream. A very uncomfortable and traumatizing one. Not a memory. You wished it wasn’t a memory.
A crunching sound caused your eyes to snap open. Like something being cut. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the new scenery around you. It was an unfinished basement, completely empty. Wooden steps leading upwards to a doorway you couldn’t see. A small window where pale yellow light came pooling in, and a dim, orange lightbulb above to illuminate what the natural lighting couldn’t. Dust particles floated around the air, giving an odd feeling of normalcy.
The oddest part was the man sitting only a few feet away. He sat on a wooden chair, balancing a white ceramic plate on his knee with a hum as he carved an apple slice into the shape of a bunny with long, apple skin ears. He looked strong. Pale, muscular arms exposed, lightly speckled in pale brown freckles. His black t-shirt pulled taut over his chest. Khaki cargo pants that stretched over his strong thighs. He was wearing black combat boots and he would occasionally tap his foot as he hummed and carved. His hair was short and blond, pulled back into a ponytail as he worked with those same light brown freckles spotting the bridge of his nose. The oddest part was that he was doing this with his eyes closed.
This was a skill he practiced enough to do without being able to see.
Your expression became troubled as you noticed the difficulty of moving your body. Your arms were bound behind your back and so were your ankles. Thick, scratchy rope dug into your skin, replacing the plastic zip ties. It rubbed the flesh raw and bruised as you laid on your side against a hard cement floor. The part that made you actually panic was the fact that you were completely nude. You wriggled around, trying to sit up on your knees as the cutting sound halted. “Tu es maintenant réveillé.” It was the man not too far from you. “Bonjour, mon lapin.” You didn’t speak French.
Tears of panic welled in your eyes as you lifted your gaze to meet the strange man. “I-I’m sorry do you speak english? Do you know what’s going on?” You wanted to reason him as you pulled your knees up towards your stomach the best you could. At least for some form of modesty. His eyes opened. A vibrant green, something that would usually entrance you with the soft and hypnotizing shade. But they held no light. No warmth. Empty and hollow. The man didn’t see you.
He saw ‘mon lapin’.
“Ugly American-English,” He chuckled and pointed the knife at you, bobbing it in his hand with a soft tsk of disapproval. “I teach you, eh, comment dire mes choses préférés.” His accent was a little thick. But you could understand him enough to not ask him to repeat. He didn’t seem much older than you which made this all the more frightening. “To have you imported was difficult. I feed you now.” He beamed happily and tucked the knife into the belt of his cargo pants. He grabbed the plate and moved to stand from the wooden chair as he approached you. Imported? “N-No there’s a misunderstanding-”
“Non, no misunderstandings. You are… Rabbit! You look just alike.” He chuckled as he stood over you, looking down at your naked body bound with rope as you struggled not to tremble and burst into tears. You wanted to go home. You wanted to go home now. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as he kneeled, setting the plate gently on the floor with a clack. He reached around to roughly tug you by your bound arms into a sitting position. You yelped and cried, stress sweat collecting on the back of your knees and under your arms. You tried to kick away from him out of fear with a shake of your head but he softly shushed you as he picked up the plate and showed it to you with another tug on your bare body. Pristine, lined in rabbit cut apple slices and stray pieces of dark red skin. “You eat, or you die.” He continued to smile as he took one of the slices between his pointer and thumb. “Ouvres.” He instructed sweetly.
Your eyes darted anxiously from his fingers to his face. Eat or die. Not an intentional threat. It didn’t feel like a threat, just him genuinely saying you needed to eat. “Ahhhh.” He sang as he pressed the sliced fruit towards your lips. Your body was shaking, tears continued to fall as you awkwardly parted your lips and looked downwards. You accepted the sliced fruit. It was sweet and slightly bitter on your tongue. The odd man seemed to be pleased with your response as he watched you slowly chew and look around the basement with a meek sniffle.
You’re playing house with a disturbed person. If you could earn his trust, you could get out of here. You finished and swallowed, looking sadly at the plate and then the smiling man. “I… I can feed myself…” You didn’t want the stranger’s fingers so close to your mouth. “Non, I do it for you. For now.” His tone was still kind, yet firm. He would feed you this time, and probably the next before you would be allowed to eat with your hands. He pressed another slice to your lips and watched you eat. The process continued until you had finished all of his little carvings. You felt full and a little calmer now. But that didn’t change the fact you were still a captive. The man rubbed the top of your head and gave you two small pats before moving to stand with the now empty plate. “I will bring water.” He assured as he turned and walked away, heading towards the wooden stairs with a soft hum.
You listened to each step and counted silently. Following along with the pounding of your heart. You counted 18 steps in total before you heard a door swing open and shut. Your mouth was cotton dry now as you blinked away the last remaining tears you had. You used your feet to push you towards the wall until your back was flat against the cool, stone surface. You didn’t hear any voices from upstairs. For now, you assumed the stranger lived alone.
He didn’t seem upset with you asking him questions. But if you were too invasive that could change. You weren’t in a position to make demands yet either. You could only wait for now even if you felt like you wanted to vomit from anxiety. All of the survival skills you had seen online and in thriller movies had faded away like a worn shirt print. You had no idea what to do except stay calm and think. He seemed familiar somehow. But you didn’t remember ever meeting someone who spoke French the way he did. In Highschool you had friends that took a class, saying it was such a stupid language. None of the words sounded the way they were spelled. You would have better luck understanding Morse Code before you could learn French. The door swung open again, then shut. You counted 18 steps before the man appeared again. He was holding a glass of water in one hand, and a yellow book in the other. “Je suis revenu! Je t’ai manqué, mon lapin?” He was cheerful as he approached you slowly, mindful of his speed so as to not startle you. But you could see he was thrilled to interact. It was extremely odd. You really were playing house with this guy. He kneeled again, placing the book in front of you. “French for dummies?” You read the cover out loud, wanting to force an amused laugh. But you could only guess your captor was growing sick of using English. “Relationships need, eh, communication? We speak your Ugly American English, we speak mon Français romantique.” He cooed as you nodded slowly in understanding. “It’ll be hard to read with my hands tied.” You joked awkwardly as he cupped your chin in his hand and showed you the clear glass with a delicate shake to swish the see through liquid inside. “Not poison. It is water.” He was clearly trying to gain your trust as well.
This whole situation felt bizarre. You had read books, watched TV shows and movies, even listened to TrueCrime podcasts about how kidnappers were willing to throw you in a basement and leave you for days. Torturing you for fun and doing whatever they pleased with your body. But the worst you’ve experienced so far is being tied up and naked. He hasn’t threatened to hit you or kill you yet. It really feels like he sees you as a pet and not his captive. If he wanted to rape and kill you he already would have. Unless this is just a fucked up mind game?
He repeated the phrase ‘ouvres’ and you parted your lips. He helped you drink, allowing you moments to catch your breath before giving you more. “I will make hands useable. After you finish water. You may read.” He explained as you went to get another sip. “You will eat again and drink again when I am, eh, returned? When I come back to you. You eat your lunch.” He was having trouble explaining in English. This could be why he also needs you to learn French. Usually captors don’t care about stuff like that right? You finished the glass still craving more water. “You’re leaving me here?” You tried to sound anxious. Hoping to be as convincing as possible. “Oui,” He nodded with a grin as he began to grab you by your arms again. “to get lunch.” He explained with a chuckle before raising your bound legs and twisting your body around until your hands were no longer tucked behind your back. “Please be good while I am away. I will leave you more water.” He offered kindly before rubbing the top of your head and giving you two firm pats. He took the glass as he climbed the 18 steps and closed the door.
You refused to sit and wait for him to come back. You needed to get out of here one way or another.