Caged

Thunder woke me at around three o’clock in the afternoon.

There was no sign of Daniel. No food on the table either, and that shook me more than it should have.

I felt abandoned. And hungry. And alone.

This had never happened before. Tons of weird theories started taking shape in front of me.

Daniel was undoubtedly a criminal, and he could have fled in fear of police or some other gang and had left me behind to avoid any inconvenience. Or someone could’ve killed him.

Maybe he was just done with me and had abandoned the routine torture and trouble-making, looking for something—or rather someone—new.

Before I could comprehend any of those theories, I heard the rain again incessantly hammering the roof.

It was doing a commendable job of scaring me to the core. Even mocking me. “You’re all alone now,” and those sorts of things.

I had to save myself from the horror before it petrified me, so I turned on the TV, continuing Lost from episode twelve onwards.

After a few episodes, my stomach was growling like hell. The basic physical need for food was subjugating the need for protection and safety.

I tried opening the door, but it had a code. There was no way I could open it.

I was starving and didn’t know what to do or where to go.

I went to the window. From this side of the house, all I could see were mountains and a small road.

The driveway and the main door were on the opposite side of the house. So even if I kept waving at the window, it was unlikely that anyone would see me and come and help.

That small road I noted was covered in a layer of snow. A little unusual for July, but not completely impossible this high in the mountains.

Maybe the servants couldn’t come due to the snow. And Daniel too. He might be stuck somewhere. All this could just be a little nuisance that threw us off schedule.

I walked back to the bed and watched eight episodes at a stretch. The two guys who had earlier found a mysterious hatch, John and Boone, were trying to open it but couldn’t.

That hatch reminded me of my little adventure last night and I totally wanted to go down those stairs again. But then again, I was more scared than ever. It was almost ten o’clock. It must be so dark down there.

I finally decided that I’d go. I was not perfectly and entirely safe up where I was anyway. I followed all the steps correctly and the wish for an emergency light or phone light kept tugging at me all the while.

This time, I carefully stepped down the stairs. Four sets of stairs. I thanked God when I realized there were no more. It was too much exercise on an empty stomach. I didn’t even know when I’d smell food again.

Even though I had spent the whole day in my worries and insecurities, I noted that I hadn’t heard a single voice all day. And even when I was down there I couldn’t hear anything, so I thought maybe I just imagined it before.

All I could see was darkness, so stark and black that I couldn’t make out anything at all. I kept walking casually, and then I bumped into a chair and finally heard the voice I had been aching to hear.

“Who’s there?”

It was a dark as well as low-pitched voice. I don’t know why I said dark; maybe it was just the darkness all around that made it sound dark, but there was something very unnatural about it.

Mixed with the silence in the room, it sounded very scary and horrifying.

“It’s me,” I whispered.

How idiotic that must have sounded to him. He was a total stranger and had no idea who the hell I was.

But my current state wasn’t helping me stay sane and diplomatic, so I couldn’t blame myself. And I didn’t worry about it much. I simply laid down a string of questions for him.

“Who are you and why are you here? Are you being tortured? What for? Did Daniel get you here?”

My eyes started to adjust to the darkness, and I figured out that he was tied to a chair with iron chains. And God, they were huge; huge enough to tie a dinosaur.

If it were me in those chains, I would’ve died in a couple of hours. The whole idea of being scared was actually becoming reality now. This is what being truly scared feels like, I told myself.

“I asked first,” he said casually.

I was expecting him to reply and yet his voice jolted me. I didn’t understand immediately what he meant by “I asked first.” I had almost forgotten his question. It was the side-effect of hunger.

But when I started to get canny and join in the conversation, I conceived that a person in that state should be as terrified as I was to see someone.

But instead, he was calm and composed. He even looked comfortable there.

“I live here. I mean I’m being kept here against my will. Just like you,” I said softly. I had to somehow start a conversation with him. Why exactly? I didn’t know yet.

At this point, I was standing right in front of him. He kept checking me out from head to toe and finally said in his deep, guttural voice:

“You look like a harmless little kitten, a simple human being. Why did he keep you here?”

Okay, he called me a simple human being; does that make him not a simple human being? I had to put all my courage into continuing the conversation casually.

“Yeah, and you must turn into a dragon when you’re angry. Right?” I laughed a little trying to keep fear away from my voice.

He laughed at my words, too. What a genuine and pure laugh it was. That’s the way my dad used to laugh.

Again and again, I was giving in to distractions, which I hated, and it was getting harder keeping track of everything that was happening.

“No, I don’t turn into anything; he has kept me here because I can’t be burned by fire,” he replied politely.

I was confused. I didn’t know what to say, but he continued,

“He said he saw me saving a girl from a burning house and since I didn’t even get a blister, he was suspicious. He brought me here and wants to know my fucking secret.”

It again took a little while for me to process all that.

Daniel had got him here because he thought this man couldn’t be burned by fire. If he had done that, it must be true; he wouldn’t do such a big thing on mere suspicion. No one would.

I didn’t want to let him know that I was afraid, so I tried again to talk to him in a cool way.

“So you’re like Daenerys Targaryen, huh?” I giggled.

“Sorry, what’s that?”

All right so he didn’t know Daenerys; he didn’t watch Game of Thrones. Not that it mattered, but I had one less thing to talk to him about.

“I was talking about a TV show, Game of Thrones, which you apparently don’t watch,” I said.

“Game of Thrones, huh? My grandma watches that shit; crazy old woman.”

“Who else is in your family? I mean besides your grandma?”

Again, I didn’t know where that came from. What did I care about his family?

“Grandpa. Mom and Dad died when I was little. Yours?”

“Mom, Dad, and a little sister.” A tear formed in the corner of my eye and I immediately changed the subject.

“So you really don’t get burned?”

“Yeah, and my wounds get healed immediately. This guy keeps kicking my ass, and I keep healing in front of his dazzled eyes. Son of a bitch.”

He was probably a vampire because vampires get healed immediately—but they also get burned by fire, which he didn’t.

He was like Wolverine, then. I could bet he didn’t even know about Wolverine, so there was no point bringing that up.

There was a long silence. I mean he should understand that this is too much to take for a “simple human being.” I had seen this kind of stuff on TV and in movies but never for real.

My thoughts circled around his superhuman body, his life, and the way it all worked. I was trying to figure out what he actually was when he broke the silence.

“What’s your name, girl?”

And this changed everything. I was angry and confused, and I even wanted to cry, but as I had decided before, I didn’t want to show him my weakness, so I said angrily,

“Why would I tell you?”

Without another look, I shot back to the stairs. I kept running upstairs and closed all windows and doors and finally the library door too.

In the comfort of my own room, I started crying out loud. Choking and shrieking. And the door unlocked.

Daniel was there standing in the doorway.

I didn’t turn toward him and continued my sobs. I didn’t care if he was there. I wasn’t strong enough to hide my weakness from him anymore, and in an instant he was kneeling in front of me, his eyes meeting mine.

“What happened, honey? What’s wrong with you?” he kept on repeating, and I jerked back angrily.

“What is my name?” I yelled with a strength I didn’t know I had.

“Oh my God. Is that what you’re worried about, Norah?”

“You’re lying.” I knew it. That wasn’t my name.

“Why would I lie to you, sweetheart?” He looked almost genuine saying those words. But experience had taught me not to trust him. I had been cheated enough already.

“Because you’re trying to make me crazy. How is it possible that I remember your name but not mine? What have you done to me?”

I must say I caught him off guard and confused him a little, but he was quick with a manipulating response.

“I’ve done nothing. You’re just stressed. Why don’t you eat dinner and sleep for a while? I got your favorite pizza.”

I pushed him aside and lay in bed. I refused to eat anything. I didn’t know what he might be feeding me. He could have been drugging me all this while so I wouldn’t remember these things.

As I thought about it, there were a lot of things I didn’t remember. The names of my parents. I could see their faces smiling, my little sister running all around the house. But no names, no numbers.

That was the first time that I thought I wanted to die. Immediately if possible. But he wouldn’t let me. So I resolved to wait till he went away to jump out of the library window. The next day. First thing in the morning.