paradise - the neighborhood

I awoke into dim light. A single naked lightbulb hung from the low rafters. There were no windows, just a single industrial looking door on the wall in front of me. I was tied to a chair. My hands were behind my back. A rope was holding them securely in place. My ankles too.
I wondered how much time had passed. My clock was ticking, after all. After five days I'd be our unsub's fifth victim.

I estimated, based on absolutely no information that I had been unconscious for a couple of hours. A hundred and twenty hours of captivity until I was strangled by the homicidal maniac who had kidnapped me from in front of my hotel.

I was alone. Truly alone. My only hope was that the team would find me soon. A hundred and twenty hours. One-eighteen, actually, if my estimates where correct. That wasn't so bad, I mused. We'd solved cases in less time than that. I'd be out in no time. Easy peasy. In the meantime, all I had to do was not get killed.

It was weird. Time passed and I remained in an odd state of calm. Actually, I realized as I studied the walls, I was bored. Everywhere I looked was white. Corrugated metal on the walls that I could just barely see. Only the door, grey, broke the monotony. Five days was a long time to wait for death or freedom.

After a few hours of trying to guess where I was given my few clues, I fell back asleep. It was a restless sleep; it was cold in my prison. I drifted in and out. The last time I happened to open my eyes to check that my surroundings hadn't transformed, I saw a dark shape in the corner of the room. A man. I was so frightened I nearly overturned my chair. Bored, my ass. The unsub took a step toward me. Then another.

"Hello?" I asked. He was outside of the soft halo created by the lightbulb.

No response. Typical.

"Hello?" I tried again, "My name is Maya. You probably know that." He had my badge after all.

The man stayed quiet, but a strange thing happened. Something in my brain clicked. I didn't know what it was, but I couldn't practically feel it. My the cogs of my unconscious brain were whirling. Not like puzzle pieces. When you're doing a puzzle you can see what you're building, at least the tiny part you've put together. A tree. A house. It was more like a giant paint by numbers and my brain had found yellow.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

"Do you want me to be?" Good job, Maya. Antagonize the unsub.

He took another step closer.

"I'm going to kill you," he growled. Well, what do you say to that?

Another step closer.

"What's your name?" I asked again.

"You know who I am," he sneered. It sounded like he was making his voice lower. Did I get kidnapped by a kid? Fucking hell.

"I do?"

"Don't play dumb."

"It comes naturally," I replied. He kept stalking closer.

"What was it like. When you saw I killed the last girl? You knew her, didn't you?"

"You motherfucker," I muttered.

"She was gone for five days. No one even reported her as a missing person," he waxed on.

Never had I wanted something as bad as I wanted to pummel that smug voice into these stupid white walls. I could almost feel my knuckles hitting his jaw. Let's see him fight without the elements of surprise and those that make up chloroform. What was chloroform, again? Chlorine. Carbon. Something else. Eliza would know.

I was rambling now, in my own head. I didn't want to listen to anything the unsub had say. Not that that stopped him.

"You want to kill me right now," he said.

Okay, that was across the line. I refused to have my feelings told to me by a serial killer.

"Not at all," I said cheerily, "I hated her."

"Funny. She's still your emergency contact." Oh, now it was on. That bastard. I was going to put him in jail for the rest of his miserable life if it was the last thing I ever did. In the background, my mental paint by numbers found another color.

"You sure know a lot about me," I said.

"I know a lot of things." He was in the light now, at the edge. His features cast long shadows on his face, but I could still clearly see him. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

He had been right before, I did know him. But from what?

"Seems like it. What else do you know?" I adlib-ed. I just wanted to keep him talking. Everything he said made the picture a little clearer.

"I'll be back later," he said, ignoring my question. With that, he left the room through the grey door ahead of me. It looked heavy. Maybe we were in a warehouse. It was light outside, a line golden dawn or dusk showing when he slipped out. I guessed dawn. He was probably going to work. That meant it was my second day already. Damn, time flies when you're trapped in an ice-cold bunker.

He came back later with food and water. It must have been evening because the same yellow like shone behind him as he came in. He untied one of my hands so I could eat. Takeout. When I was done he blindfolded me and told me he was taking me to a bathroom. A chance at escape, I thought. But he kept my hands and ankles tied, gagged me. Instead of letting me walk, he picked me up and slung me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

That's rather undignified, I thought to myself. Oh well, at least I could feel the sun and the wind when he carried me outside.

The door opened and closed and there was no breeze outside, just a sudden and much-appreciated warmth. Something solid pushed uncomfortably into my chest and I bounced helplessly. What was that? It took me a second to figure it out, but when I did I nearly squeaked with delight. My phone. It was still in my bra. I'd completely forgot about it.

Please, please, don't fall out now. More doors opened and my hands were untied again. I was shoved into a room with the words "Don't try anything."

I pulled my blindfold down. I was alone. The bathroom had no windows and no lock. Not even a shower, just a toilet. No mirror. He was definitely outside the door. As quietly as I could I opened all the cabinets, searching for a weapon. They were all empty. Defeated, I used the bathroom and washed my hands, drying them on my pants.

The phone. Don't forget the phone. It was far more important than a toothbrush to fashion into a shiv. I could just call.

"Idiot," I whispered to myself. I prayed as hard as I could manage that it still had battery. Click. Thirty-six percent.

"Hurry up," the man said.

Fuck, I should have done all this before. By now, my lovely host wouldn't give me the time I needed to make a traceable call. Anxiously, I slid my phone behind the pipes under the sink and tried to look normal before I knocked on the door to be let out. What was another day? My rescue was assured.