Good Night, My Dear

The man in the black coat gripped at my hands and grabbed my phone. He smiled when he heard a faint “Hello?” come from the device.

I was about to scream when he covered my mouth with his gloved hand and roughly pushed my head on the wall. I was dizzy from the impact, but I could hear him talk into the phone. His soft, honey-coated voice hid the malice in his eyes.

“Hello, Mrs. Smith. Yes, I’m with her today. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her and make sure she gets enough sleep.”

He paused to hear to the response. Angry tears fell from my eyes. He grinned. “Yes, I’ll make sure to tell her. Good night.” He ended the call and grabbed a fistful of my hair. I yelped as he said, “Your mother asked me to tell you that she loves you, by the way. How touching.”

Pulling at my hair, he led me to the long, empty box of dark stone in the center of the room. I screamed and cried and fought back as hard as I could, but he was too strong and kept his pace.

After a few steps, he turned to me and punched me in the stomach. I dropped to the floor, out of breath. He then scooped me up and dumped me inside the dark container. It hurt falling into it, but I kicked and flailed at him with all the strength I had left. He laughed and slapped me hard across the face. I fell back in pain.

I heard heaving, and gasped to see the light fade as he placed the lid over the opening. I screamed and tried to push it away, but the lid was too heavy. As the last of the light closed on me, he cackled and said, “Good night, my dear.” The lid closed with a thud.

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Image source: deviantart.com/ecathe/art/abandoned-room-027-252265174
First written June 27, 2017.
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