Cole Dietrich, as well off as he’d been, had never prepared for a situation such as this. His father was the founder of a strong, flourishing business that had landed him and his family in an expensive house by the sea, but due to Cole’s persistent poor health, he was never really allowed to leave. So when he awoke to darkness in what felt like a wooden room in God-knows-where with his wrists and ankles bound tightly together, he was ill prepared for it.
He let out a short, harsh breath and scuffled upright. The rope felt more like rough spikes had submerged themselves into his skin. His head was throbbing, trying to process all the thoughts that flew through it – there were too many to focus on an answer for a single one. That and he didn’t have a single piece of information that would make his questions valid. Where was he? What day is it? Why is this happening? Who did this? How could he know? So, he continued to sit.
It had been quiet for hours since he woke up, Cole hadn’t moved at all in fear of anything being placed on the floor placed to stop him escaping. Of course, he had budged up to the door earlier to see if a lock had been somehow overlooked, but the door was stuck firmly. The poorly-made walls were grating loudly outside, fighting against the wind. Occasionally, he could hear hushed whispers outside the door. Their pronunciation sounded so bitter and savage that Cole couldn’t make out a single word. It must have been a different language. Judging by the harsh sound of it, maybe it was Russian? This made his whereabouts even harder to determine stuck in this seemingly eternal darkness. There was nothing else he could do, so he clambered onto the floor and tried to sleep.
It could have only been a few days, but it may have been a week that he’d been stranded in this lonely room. It didn’t feel like very long to him, but the aching in his body and pulsing in his head told him that it had been longer. Maybe he had been unconscious for days. He couldn't decipher whether it was day or night as no light would enter the room, except when the door was opened momentarily - at presumably the same time every day - for a small tray of food to be thrown onto his lap from a silhouetted hand. Then this is how he would count, he thought, guessing that he was given one meal a day consisting of bread that was too stiff and rice that was too gritty.
As meal three arrived, Cole felt something stir uneasily in his stomach. He couldn't eat this. But he was scared. Maybe the men holding him would be angry – what if they refused to give him food ever again? The thought made him feel worse and he let a whine of helplessness escape his mouth, throwing the tray beside him with a loud crash and beginning to weep. His head was in his hands, though uncomfortably due to the burning rope binding his wrists together. Through the time he had been held captive until this point, no emotion of any kind had kicked in. He was still out of it. Not until that point did he realise what was happening. That his family would be searching for him, panicking and crying. That he might never leave this room. That he’d been ing kidnapped. He'd probably never get out of here or see them again or live his life because some Russian kidnappers are probably going to kill him and bury him in the middle of nowhere to never be found. He started crying uncontrollably. He sobbed for hours until his eyes were dry and tired and no tears were left. He felt dizzy, trying to hold in his usual loud cry for so long. So, his body fell on its side and he closed his eyes until the next meal.
He was awoken by familiar voices outside of the door, they sounded angry. The shouting was enough to make Cole think something was wrong, but on top of that he could hear a noise that terrified him. A low pitched, fierce, violent growling. It sounded like the men were trying to hold down a growling bull as metal and wood and whatever else could possibly be outside was being crashed and thrown against the wall of the room he was in. He heard a loud scream from one of the men followed by the yelp of what sounded like a dog. Two thoughts stuck in his mind. One: the police have finally found him and set the dogs loose on his kidnappers, or two: there is a vicious dog outside waiting to mangle his skin. He hoped to death that it was number one but due to the lack of police sirens, gun fire or shouting through megaphones to release him, he couldn't help but think it was number two.
Soon enough, blinding light entered Cole's view briefly and something was thrown in the room harshly. His heartbeat was thundering through his whole body as he tried to make out what was in. But it was obvious, wasn’t it? The light only lasted a second - the men wanted to keep whatever it was in. One of the men, who was heaving, shouted something mockingly, knocking on the strong wooden door with a tight fist, laughing, then groaning in what sounded like pain.
Cole's heart almost stopped.
A large, grey dog jumped at the door with such a force that Cole was surprised it hadn't flown off its hinges. The dog growled and almost roared at the door, making Cole whimper in shock and fear. The dog must have heard him. It turned around, growling and panting at Cole with its back hunched.
. He cursed to himself, tears b. This is it...
I'm going to die.