April's POV

I must have been kept in the room for what felt like a week. No-one came into the room - when I would wake up, there would be a tray of food left at the foot of my bed. But I couldn't eat. And no-one ever spoke. Despite the beautiful French windows overlooking the forest, the mere fact that it was a forest frustrated me. For as far as I could see, there were only trees, glorious trees.

Oh great. (note sarcasm.) So much for a quick escape.

Thinking about my family consumed most of my time - as well as fear of rape. But then, my mind lapsed into thinking of the most irrational fears and qualms I could think of. And then, I would lapse into a terribly depressive state again whilst thinking about the outside world and the sheer absurdness of the situation; I was so confused. I wanted to go home.

How long had I been here for?

Do my room mates know I'm gone?

Don't people know I'm missing?

Was there a freaking search party out there trying to find me?

My phone must have slipped out when I was struggling with the kidnappers in the van, so I couldn't call for help. Instead, my knuckles were raw from pounding at the windows - but judging by the height, it was safe to say that every single bone in my body would shatter from the impact of the jump. There weren't many secure footholds to help me scale the wall either; the ones that I could see were far too far apart for me to reach. Maybe I should just jump? But I couldn't - immediate danger hadn't painted my sight completely red and that small sliver of human hope kept me back.

Then, I began screaming and shouting and cursing every single foul curse my mother had ever told me never to say whilst kicking at the door. When no-one arrived, I combed through the room twice, searching for something, anything to help me.

I managed to find a sharp ended comb, a heavy wooden box and an empty deodorant spray to use as potential weapons. Then, I ended up just sitting, the makeshift weapons clutched to my chest when I realized I was so very alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jerkface - an atp name for him because he was a crappy excuse for a human being, strode into the room. I flipped upwards from where I was hanging from the bed, my body moving sluggishly into action. A cigarette dangled from his lower lip, but he wasn't inhaling the smoke.

Gross.

I swallowed my disdain, sneered as best I could without him noticing and straightened up - it was all an act of course, I was nowhere near as brave as I was acting, because he caught on.

Leaning against the door frame, he glanced at my hands and frowned. "Why are your hands shaking?"

"T-they're not." Okay, yes. I wasn't being sarcastic and brave - but who would in a situation where you could be raped or trapped or sold. It wasn't the time for heroics, I said to myself.

"Yes they are."

"No. No they're not." I said, keeping my voice as non-confrontational as possible.

He looked up again, his forehead smoothing out. I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate. After a few moments, he clicked his tongue and raised two dark eyebrows, pushing himself off the frame.

"You need to come with me," he said gesturing for me to follow. "Oh, and you may want to consider changing clothes. Maybe taking a shower. Maybe even bringing a comb to your hair?" He said smirking. Gee. Thanks. He was holding some clothes in his hand which I presumed were for me.

I forced a thank you, almost choking on the insincerity of it. Reaching up for the clothes, he raised them higher. Glancing up at him, I frowned. I jumped again in an effort to reach them, but it was futile. He was too tall. By now he was laughing – as in full on laughing. Embarrassment alongside my lack of appetite made me feel sick.

"Look, do you want me to get ready or not?" I said careful to keep my voice level. He didn't listen so then, my words began coming out more angrily than I had intended. "Give me the damn clothes. Does it pay to be a jerk? Give them!"

"No."

"Why?" I snapped.

"Because it's funny seeing you struggle. The fact that you try makes it more of a source of entertainment." My jaw slackened. Then, with a sudden burst of confidence I kneed him in the balls. He cried out in pain. In his moment of weakness I let out a triumphant noise, grabbed the clothes and jumped over him and out into the corridor.

I'd been allowed to the bathroom once a day and so I knew where it was; slamming the door behind me and locking it, I leaned against it, breathing hard. Holding up my hand, I assessed the clothes. They consisted of jeans, a long-sleeved tee and jumper. There were even underwear in the pile; goosebumps prickled up my arm. I got the funny feeling that he did not pick out these clothes.

Wow, April. So much for being non-bloody-confrontational you twat-face.

Quickly stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water massage the knots in my muscles. Determined to make use of this time, I grabbed some shampoo and washed my hair, scrubbing at it viciously - half with anger and half with the genuine desire to wash it.

The bathroom swirled with steam. I carefully stepped over to the mirror, and rubbed a small circle in the steam, looking at myself in the reflection.

It was like seeing myself for the first time. Eye bags shadowed my eyes, making my skin look grey and sallow and horribly sunken in as though I hadn't seen sleep in my life. I was very average in terms of my physical appearance, but I based my character on my personality. In my opinion, everyone has their own perfections and flaws – no-one is fully perfect. Well, that's what my mum told me.

But you're never seeing her again. You've been kidnapped. Who knows what they're going to do with you. My conscious taunted. I ignored it and dried myself off. I got changed and combed my hair with a hairbrush that was lying on the counter and then proceeded to drop my dirty clothing into the washing basket in the corner, hesitating slightly. I didn't want to leave the last things I had left with me in this place. Shaking my head, I shook the stupid thought off. There are bigger things to worry about.

A thought struck me. I had physically hurt my kidnapper - in the balls. It was a reckless mistake; I should have taken the extra time for the shower to help my situation, not my personal hygiene. Perhaps I could have found a doorway or an open window. Maybe I could have discovered more of my surroundings, my kidnappers?

And so I did just that. But after half an hour, I realized that if I didn't go downstairs, they would come up. And so far, I had found no place of escape. There were no shortage of rooms - but the windows were too high and how long would I be able to hide under a bed for?

Spiders would probably leave me screaming and running straight back into their arms.

Plus, they knew the area better than me.

Where would I go if I did make it out? In the trees to start a wild goose chase?

And how long would I wait until I made my escape? Until I was sure they had stopped looking for me?

I made up my mind unhappily and slowly descended the stairs. Hearing voices coming from inside a room, which I presumed was the kitchen, I entered nervously.

The kitchen had white counters and black paneling, the open spaced arrangement easily classifying as being a professional catering area. Then, my eyes flickered downwards. Gathered around an alien-looking cherry-wood table that defied the modern decor, all my kidnappers were sat, with two additions. They were both girls and extremely pretty too. One of them had flame-red hair and vibrant green eyes – she smiled at me as I walked in. The other girl who was set at the end of the table raised her eyebrows as I came in. She had short blonde hair and dark almond-blue eyes.

Ahem.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and I jumped at the noise - it was so awkward because their conversation had dwindled down to silence as soon as I had entered. I hesitantly looked up to see who it was. Oh damn. Their cold green-grey eyes glinted as soon as I met them, his lips formed a smirk, a cigarette still hanging off his lower lip and his expression read: I'm going to kill you.

It was the one and only, Jerkface.