Iamtrapped

I am trapped.

This is the first line in this story, the opening, and the beginning. I have no idea how this will go, how it will pan out. Whether it will need to be restrained or whether it will flow easily. You see short stories are not really my forte, creative yes – but short? No.

For the time being though, you will just have to trust me. So I am trapped. Whether you like it or not, that is the opener.

Not only am I trapped; but the room that I am trapped in is no wider than 5m x 4m and there are no large windows. The only pocket of air is a sunlight right above my head, which taunts me with its view of the sky and fleeting seagulls. The small breeze that comes from the partially open window is some comfort. But I am still trapped, in the hottest part of the house.

It is midday and the sun’s killing me; it is steadily drinking all the moisture out of my parching skin. I am sweating nothing, breathing nothing but that belittled breeze.

Fortunately there is some furniture in this place for me to rest on, a swivel chair, a desk and the carpeted floor.

I better point out that there is a door and it isn’t locked. It can’t be locked. The only thing stopping me from leaving is the knowledge that I don’t have the strength to open it. But I am not here by choice; I am here because I was pushed. Not by some unexplainable force, no nothing like that…though sometimes that would be the easiest way to explain it. This was more like a physical, cunning and premeditated force.

Please don’t misunderstand me though, this ‘force’ has provided for me, during my anxious time in this compact room. Sustenance in the shape of little thin yellow squares-Chives flavoured. That’s right; cheese…processed cheese has been every minute, on the minute shoved under the door.

I am tired, I am tired and embarrassed…and so hungry.

I can hear a muffled staccato of what sounds like sobbing coming from the other side of the door. Though I know it is not crying… it is laughing…at me.

Another cheese slice skids across the carpet, this one is more crumpled then the last, the cellophane which protects it is folded and the cheese inside split. The force is becoming more reckless and impatient.

It is a waiting game, who tires first? The person who is in control… thinks they are. Or the person who is melting into oblivion?

I pull on the door knob roughly, and once again a wide enough crack reveals the stove and countertop of the kitchen on the outside of the door. The rope that is knotted to the porch door stretches and strains once again. My captor shrieks in surprise and pushes all their body weight against the door, desperately trying to slacken the tight rope. I fall back into the light of the small room as the door slams shut for the fifth time. I am so tired, tired of fighting and sick of this room.

“Eat it!” My captor demands as the sound of something rolling around on the ground can be felt through the floor. I believe this is known as uncontrollable laughter. A distorted and static laugh fills the room after this. The force has an accomplice, on speaker phone it would seem.

“You know I can’t!” I yell back in frustration. This is getting ridiculous, what I would give to be free of this room and this heat. “I’ll die!” – Okay, so that’s a bit of a lie, but it could happen. You see as my captor knows but you don’t, I don’t eat anything with milk solids, whey powder, lactose, butter, any dairy really…especially cheese.

Another piercing laugh carries through the small gap between door and floor. “Did you hear that?!”

It had been five attempts now, five feeble attempts. I was just about to give up when I remembered something. While continuing to yell threats and bellowing in despair I darted to the wardrobe and pulled out the tool bag. “This is so embarrassing!” I fake cried as my eyes fell on the craft knife, tidily tucked away in a side pocket. I then tiptoed over to the door and rehearsed the plan of action in my head…I knew I only had one chance at this.

“Eat it! Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!’ The voice taunted.

I took a deep breath and sighed sadly. “You know you’re going to get in so much trouble? You’re wrecking the doors!” I yelled as I readied myself.

“You’re the one pulling on it!” The voice retaliated. “Just eat your cheese and I’ll let you out…” it then fades away as my captor struggles to control their hysterical laughter. “This is so funny!” They squeal and I place my hand on the door knob and twist.

“Nooooo!’ The voice bellows, as I pull the door wide enough to create a gap for my hand and the weapon to fit through. “Nooooo!” The voice begins to panic, a fear interrupting the flow of laughter.

I begin to haphazardly cut at the rope while my captor yells in frustration and amusement, tries to force the door shut again. The cell phone is thrown aside as the captor needs two hands to try to beat me.

“You can’t- you can’t! Where did you get that?! Oh my god! Nooo! “

As the last few threads of rope remain I mumble a threat to my captor, the sly force, to run…that I would give them a head start. To which they do, shrieking their head off the length of the hall. My sister’s torturous fun had backfired badly.