witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

twelve || locked up

AN: The song for this chapter is Locked In A Cage by Brick + Mortar. Ok, enjoy!

Tate

After Harry left I spent about an hour or two going around the room attempting to find some way to escape. There was nothing. I had tried to use the chair in the corner of the room to break the window, only to find out that it was plexiglass. After my many attempts at somehow making it out of here, I sat on the bed in defeat.

I couldn't go downstairs. If I went downstairs, not only would Harry force me to answer questions that I didn't have the answers to, but I would have to face the other people in the house as well. Harry was awful, but for all I knew, they could be much worse.

My mind kept flashing back to Harry's gun, his venomous reminders that he had the power to kill me at any moment making my stomach twist.

But in addition to the fear that I felt, honestly?

I was fucking pissed.

I was beyond enraged that I had been taken from my home. That my mother would have to come home and not know where her only child was. That not only were these people making me go through this but also my mother.

I was pissed that for the life of me, I couldn't think of one reason how I was related to this software Harry wouldn't shut up about.

I was scared, I was enraged, I was fucking cold, this house was freezing, and I was getting pretty damn hungry as well.

My emotions were in overdrive, and it was as though they had all come together for a group meeting, their main objective: to drive me insane.

I waddled pitifully over to the bed and flopped onto it. I think my body needed a break from crying, and so I just sat there.

My head shot up when I heard a knock on the door.

I balled my fists up and stood, bracing myself for the pest waiting for me behind the door.

"Go away, Harry!" I snapped. "I don't know anything! I don't have any answers to your questions, so you can just fuck off, and shove your questions right up your-"

"Um, it's not Harry," a small voice peeped from behind the door.

I furrowed my brows in confusion.

"C-Can I come in? Are you decent?" The voice called out.

"Uh, yeah, I am. You can come in," I answered hesitantly.

The door creaked open to reveal a guy who looked maybe a few years younger than me. He had glasses, brown hair, and in his hands, he held a tray. It had a grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup on it, and I was practically drooling at the sight of it.

He walked in cautiously, as though he was scared if he made any sudden moves, I would break, and honestly, at this point, I just might.

He slowly put the tray on the bed, and then adjusted his glasses.

"I'm sorry. I know it's not much, but I thought that you might be hungry. I'm Abel, by the way. Abel Hoffman."

I smiled gratefully, although I still didn't completely trust him.

"This is perfect. I'm starving," I answered, hopping back onto the bed and grabbing the grilled cheese, dipping it into the soup. I sighed contently as I took the first bite, the warmth of it traveling through my body.

He stood there awkwardly, fidding with his hands that were placed in front of him.

I finished chewing my bite before speaking. "Do you want to um, do you want to have a seat?" I asked, gesturing towards the bed.