Writers

Bloc

Untitled

by Hannah Stookey

            She got up. Her head was pounding as she leaned against the nearest wall to keep her balance. Someone had hit her with something hard enough to knock her out for who knows how long. As she touched her forehead to search for blood, she heard a noise. Panicked, the girl tried to run to the nearest exit but found that she was not where she had originally been. This room with walls of painted white brick was not the art studio she had last remembered herself in. Fear flooded through her. Where was she? How far away had she been taken? Would she ever escape? Who had done this to her? Anxiety started to set in and she found that she had trouble breathing. She looked around the room and realized that whoever had kidnapped her hadn’t taken her purse with her inhaler hostage as well.

            As she was about to start freaking out even more, something in her mind clicked. She had to calm down in order to escape. The girl slid down the wall and brought her knees to her chest as she started taking deep breaths. In the back of her mind, the paranoia of what could happen to her started to move its way up, but she took control of her thoughts and shoved it back in its place. In a few seconds, the wheezes turned to pants, and in just a few more seconds, the pants turned into regular breaths. Smiling a little but to herself, she stood up and surveyed the room.

            There were no windows, but there was a heavy wooden door that separated her from whatever room or refuge that rested behind it. She went to open it, but of course escaping wouldn’t be that easy. It was locked from the outside. In frustration, she slammed her fist against the wall. What other way was there? The girl put her head in her hands and paced the perimeter of the room trying to think of what was left to do. Occasionally, she would kick the wall in more fits of frustration. The third time her foot struck the wall, it hit something hollow. Frantically, she knelt down beside the spot and started hitting it with her fist. There was definitely something behind it, but whether or not it was a way out or a trap didn’t matter. She just wanted something to hope for.

            Quickly, she took off the thick metal bracelet she had been wearing and started to chip off the paint. After doing this vigorously for about a minute, she found what looked to be a line going down the wall that didn’t match the brick. With what strength she sad left, she broke her bracelet in half so it had a sharp point. She then took the pointed edge and followed the line trying to get out any paint that was keeping it shut. The side was only about 16 inches high, but turned at the top to make another line. She kept following these lines until the realization came that this was a little door that had been painted over.

            Adrenaline pulsed through her as she pried open the tiny exit with her fingers. The pain of her fingernails being ripped off didn’t bother her. Excitement and hope overpowered any other feelings. Once the door was opened, she saw a long, dark passage way. It looked scary, but as she heard the large wooden door behind her being unlocked, the question of whether or not to go through the little door into the dark didn’t come to her. She bolted through the door and then quickly shut it behind her.

            The passage way wasn’t as long as she had anticipated it to be. She was crawling into another room in less than a minute. In the new room was an oil lamp sitting on a desk. Next to it was a wooden door similar to the one in the room she had been held captive in. Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she turned the knob. To her astonishment, it opened. With wide eyes, she saw a staircase. She went down the stairs.