Page 22 of Capture
Ipressed my ear against the wood as I listened to his footsteps on the floorboards grow distant, followed by the distinct sounds of him treading the stairs. Mikael was guarding my door for over an hour before his phone went off with notifications.
I waited until I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, then waited another few minutes trying to pick up on sound before I tested the doorknob. It was locked, of course, because they’re not idiots, but I aggressively shook the door, hoping something would snap.
Failing that, I slipped my shoes on and tried to kick it down, but unfortunately, I came off worse than the door. Dropping to my knees, I peered underneath and could see nothing through the keyhole. It won’t be long before the brothel workers and their clients start flooding the halls and rooms, so I’ll call out for help then.
Dejected and frustrated, I returned to the bed and tried to concentrate on an assignment that is due next week. My captors removed the Wi-Fi, so I couldn’t even email my assignment to my tutors or ask for an extension. After playing the role of the nerd for years under the mask of Riley, I’d gotten used to working studiously for good marks, handing my assignments on time, and rarely missing a class.
They covered all their bases, except for one major flaw, which was their decision to imprison me. I expected them to shift me to a more secure and secluded location that didn’t have a constant flow of customer traffic after 3 PM, right outside my door.
Honestly, they didn’t think this through properly, and they would do better if they had me on their staff. I could bring a lot to the club, a new perspective, and a fresh look at how they run the business. Firstly, I would change the position of the kitchen. I mean, whose idea was it to have the kitchen on the other side of the club from the dining room and bar?
Seriously, if they didn’t cover the food with a silver plate cover, the meal would be cold by the time the waitress walked through the casino to the dining room to place it on the member’s table. Dumb. I’d modernize the décor because, honestly, that red and black boudoir wallpaper was getting old fast. I mean…that’s like so last century.
Perhaps I’d missed my calling. I should’ve studied interior design and management instead of marine biology. Oh well. I guess none of that matters now. I wonder what plans they hadfor me? They can’t leave me in here forever. Either they kill me and bury my body somewhere, or they let me go.
It was pointless trying to concentrate on the ecology assignment as my head couldn’t get into it. So I lay back onto my bed and stared at the stark white ceiling, and noticed several fly poops that I had the urge to clean it off.
Yeah, they needed to hire me. I’d put a lick of paint on the walls, a warmer, lighter hue, and cover up the fly shit. Damn, that fly shit was getting on my nerves.
I sat up and propelled to my feet on the bed, pulled my sleeve over my hand, and then reached up high to rub the spots, but still couldn’t reach. Frustrated, I sat back down, but the fly shit was going to haunt me into the night and prey on my mind until I wiped it off.
Focus on the assignment. But the fly shit is still there.
Asssssignment. But flyyyyy poop.
The distant sounds of high heels hitting the floorboards cut through my circling thoughts, and I bolted upright to watch the door. It seemed to be only one set of footsteps, and I wonder if it was one of the brothel girls who came to check the rooms.
My heart hammered in my chest as I raced to the door and pressed my ear against it, as nerves curled about in my stomach. I could hear whispers under her breath, her inner dialogue coming to the surface during the assumed solitude.
Except I was there.
I listened to those confident footsteps stop nearby, then shuffle, followed by the squeak of a door, more whispering, and then another door opened. My assumption must be correct. She was checking the rooms before to ensure that they were clean with fresh linen on the beds, and please, I beg you, check the ceilings for fly poop.
This was an opportunity that I couldn’t miss. Even though it might backfire because the woman might be loyal to Kaisers, she might, just might, sympathize with me—a girl locked in a room.
“Hello,” I whispered-shouted, fearful of the consequences, but it was immediately apparent that I wasn’t loud enough. “Hellooo? Is there anyone out there?” I whispered-shouted louder.
The confident footsteps pounded the floorboards toward my door, and I slammed my hand against the wood so she could find the right door.
“Hello? Is someone out there?” I breathed close to tears because my freedom was only a single slab of wood away.
Unless…it was the wrong person on the other side of the door.
“Who is this?” Her voice stunned me, like a sharp sting to my chest. It was Betty, I think. Maybe I was wrong. My head spun in dizzy circles as I tried to decipher whether I should continue this conversation.
“Um,” I hesitated, but she was the only hope I had. “Help me. I’m being held captive.” It sounded ridiculous as I said it, but it was true.
“Who…” she started as the door handle turned and the door rattled as she tried to open it. “Why are you locked in there?”
The more she spoke in that assertive, husky voice, the more I was sure it was Betty. As far as I was aware, she didn’t know that I snitched on her concerning the rats. Gosh, I could be wrong about that, too, because I didn’t see her; I only heard her talking in the staff locker room.
“Betty? Is that you?” I resorted to asking as my heart caused my breath to hitch.
“Yes. Wait. Is that you, Petra?” her muffled voice asked through the wood.
Hot tears filled my eyes due to the nauseating conflict going on inside of me. “Yes. Please. Betty. Get me out. Please.”
“Why are you in there? I thought…Ronan told me you had quit,” she argued, sounding confused. “I was surprised about that because you seemed to love the job and needed the money.”
