Money's Escape

SpaceHuman's Note *I hope u are well. I think this is one of my better stories, but you can be the judge 2 that. I'm tryna work on being descriptive idk. Tysm for 30 followers. :))))))) buh bye <3.*

Everything hurts. I imagine my legs to be filled with cuts and bruises. But I cannot confirm that, because everything is also pitch black. The cloth blindfold is tightly wrapped around my eyes, putting them in an uncomfortable position. My eyes feel like small slits cut in my forehead, as my skin continues to stretch. I ask to have it loosened, but it gets tighter. Screams explode from my mouth, but they sound like muffles. I end up in a sputter of coughs, gagging from the cloth in my mouth. This angers my kidnapper, and a whip strikes my already bleeding cut and I roar in pain. It turns to a choke, and the cycle repeats, until my gag is loosened a little from my mouth, and it is easier to breathe. I'm pushed a little, and I stagger forward, almost tripping on a big object on the floor. My two legs hop around, tied together. But mostly, I am dragged by the armpits. I can feel the little hairs being yanked on, and the blood dripping. All of a sudden I'm shoved into a hard damp wall. I hear my nose crack and I fall limp to the floor. Things remain in darkness. I hear a squeaky gate close and I am alone. Alone in my own cell, waiting to die. I breathe quietly and try to inhale all the oxygen around me through my nose. Some time passes, and my nose gets itchy. I squirm around on the ground of the cell and scratch my nose on the rocks, but it scratches my throbbing knee. I squint my stretched eyes to stop the pain, but it hurts more and more. So I just cry. For hours. Until I hear a creak, indicating my cell door is opening. My covered eyes turn toward the sound, and I hear my kidnapper step inside. I hear his deep breath in my damp cell, and he turns me around. I brace for a whip, but my hands are untied. My gag is removed from my mouth as well. But my eyes remain blindfolded. Maybe so that I can't recognize the place? I hear a scraping on the floor, and a bowl like shape bumps against my thigh. My sore fingers feel inside, and I touch wet oatmeal. I eagerly grab the bowl and gobble it all up. I assume for my kidnapper to leave, but he stays and I hear him grab a stool and settle in. He loudly clears his throat to inform me he is speaking. Then he begins.

"Where is your money?" It's a very sudden question question that I hadn't expected. So this is what my visit is about? So I can tell him where I store my billions of dollars? I scoff.

"I would rather you kill me now than I tell you where it all is." I hear him growl like a wolf.

"No it's okay," he begins, "I'll give you a slow death. Unless...you tell me." I shake my head violently, and he chuckles.

"Wrong way junor. I'm sitting over here." I turn to his voice and shake my head again. I also wince at the pain in my eyes.

He starts to speak again, "I'll leave you here for now. Just give a holler if you want to trade." He gives a deep chuckle and the iron bars shut, leaving me again in darkness. I make the conclusion I need to escape. Fundamentally, I would need to take off my blindfold. To do that I would need my hands. Maybe my feet while I'm at it. I stand up to the best of my abilities and squat quickly, ripping the duck tape off my ankles. I sigh in relief and stand up fully, although my open wounds hurt when I bend. I then perform my steps of tearing my tight cloth off my wrists. I stare at the bulging veins, finally able to breath the call air. Ripping off the blindfold is easy. After stretching out and resting my muscles, I am ready. I am bandage free with wounds, but it doesn't matter, because I'm free. Well almost. I still have iron bars in my way. I fit my arm through the bars and grab the key hanging near. I unlock the cage and I step out. I move swiftly around the basement looking for stairs, all the while looking out for my kidnapper. Maybe I could catch a glance of his face. If he knew about all my money, and he was able to track me down to take me hostage, I must know him. But I know many people. I have been to dozens of large meetings. I shake my head of the thoughts and continue around, until I see a staircase, and at the top, a door. I climb up one step at a time, as to not disturb my legs. The stairs creak, so going slowly is good. Eventually I reach the top, and I creak open the door a little. I see an empty kitchen in front of me, and on the counter is a plate of pasta. I reach my dirty hand in the food and eat some. Then I continue on my journey through the house. I pass my a room full of clay sculpts. Then my eyes lie on the front door. Suddenly I hear footsteps coming from behind the wall, so I duck under the couch. I don't get a good glimpse of him, because all I can see are his furry slippers, and parts of his jeans. He hums a little tune and I hear him grab his pasta. He could have looked questiongly at his pasta for a few minutes, but I'm not in the angle to see. My arms are throbbing from holding my body up. Once I hear the man leave the room I run as quietly as possible to the door. I silently turn the glass knob and run out to the lawn. I keep running until I get to my kidnapper's mailbox and I freeze. I read the name over and over again: Steven Fallon. It's the name of my closest friend.