The woman lay on the bed panting, a distorted mess amongst the twisted blankets. She let out a spluttered cough as moonlight shone through the frosty window creating an eerie glow over her tormented body. Her captor lurked in a corner -one with the dark shadows- as his eyes stalked over her restless face. Beads of sweat pooled on her forehead before sliding down her face to form an ugly stain on the pure white pillow beneath her tangled mane. The dark figure backed further into the corner as the woman began to stir and rain viscously attacked the curtain less window.
A loud husky cough erupted from somewhere within the darkness. For a minute second, panic flashed across the man’s wicked face as he thought that the sound had come from them. His body trembled violently at the horrific thought before he shook his head at the impossibility and put a calm mask back over his face. They won’t find me here, he thought reassuringly. He had been very careful in choosing this place to hide her.
A skull shattering scream broke through the awful silence that had for so long, been pummelling against the man’s eardrums. In a confused daze his eyes darted to the woman’s unnaturally slender chest as it heaved out with the force of the bellow. Her tiny figure shook dangerously as the scream continued, growing in intensity. Her back arced as her spine twisted backwards, lifting her up off of the bed in an awkward position.
The blanket came unwrapped from her body as she flailed about wildly. It slid down onto the cold of the metal floor. Tight metal cuffs were exposed, digging into the woman’s wrists. She looked as though possessed by some evil creature.
Silence descended on the room leaving nothing in its wake except for a hollow echoing in the man’s skull. He shook his head in attempt to rid his mind of the noise, before peering intently at the woman again. Her body lay slumped in a heap on the bed with her right leg bent in a seemingly impossible direction.
He felt like reaching out and unfastening the straps which held her ankles down. He stretched his leg out, ready to cautiously approach. At the last moment something seemed to change his mind because he snatched it back into place just as her eyes snapped open.
Even in the dark the purple glint of her eyes was visible as she turned her head to stare directly at him. The man gasped in spite of himself as the woman whispered his hate filled name in a barely audible voice: “Mark.”
That one word was enough to send him, Mark, into a panic fuelled rage. He had not disclosed any information about himself to her. No-one had called him by that name since he was a young child. Supporting himself against the wall with one hand and running the other through his dark hair in a panicked manner, he muttered a simple one word reply: “How?”
She looked up into his eyes and held his gaze for what felt like an eternity to him. Then she opened her mouth to say something. Before she could get a word out she collapsed back down onto the bed.
Mark lunged abruptly forward, outstretching a hand to roughly grasp around her delicate throat. He let out a frustrated growl as he shook her carelessly from side to side like a tiny rag doll. "Wake up you incompetent fool!" he bellowed at her restless figure before slamming her head back down into the pillow.
A wave of guilt overpowered him causing reality to snap sharply back into place. Gently unclasping tight fingers, he muttered “Damn you Hilary!" It was the first time he had spoken her name aloud.
He slid slowly down the cool wall placing his head between his knees while making a feeble attempt to steady his now out of control breathing.
Patiently he had been waiting -for days- for the moment that she would awake. Then when she had, he had forgotten about everything that he had meant to say to her. How could I be so foolish! He scolded himself. He knew the answer to that question, but tried to deny it with all his strength. The eyes! The words popped into his mind without his intention but he was too mentally drained to put up any form of resistance.
Already, he had known exactly what they would look like; her file had contained photographs. But mere photos did not show how truly captivating they were. He should have thought them evil, just as they had taught him but he could not. There was something uniquely beautiful about them which he couldn't quite understand. Their colour was not that of anything special. In fact now that he thought about it, the colour was actually quite atrociously awful. What was it then?
His fingernails found their way into his mouth, where they were chewed on as he paced around the rather bare room in frustration. Back and forth he went, in the tiny space, while pondering over that furiously irritating question! The answer seemed so close but he simply could not grab a hold of it.
After wasting far too much time then he cared to, he resigned at trying to come up with an answer to the hopeless question in blatant defeat.
A sharp pain stung the left side of his face, shattering his doubtful reverie. After looking around him in shock, he realised that the pain had been cause by his own muscular hand as it had reached up and slapped him hard across the cheek. Pulling himself together, he whispered aloud: “Oh how she drives me crazy!”
He then proceeded to exit through the one steel door in the tiny room, being sure to firmly slide the deadbolt into place behind him. He had entered a fairly spacious are with a hard, dirt floor and rocky walls surrounding him. The roof was adorned by large stalactites which threatened to fall upon him at the slightest of provocation. To his left, the faint glow of natural moonlight could be seen at the top of a dangerously steep slope. It is towards this light that he now cautiously walked, being careful not to trip on the treacherous earth beneath him.
Nearing the end of the tunnel, Mark crouched down and lifted, with two hands, a large grey rock that was against the wall of the cave. A dark opening roughly the size of his fist, was revealed. From this opening he produced a small silver key, which he then placed carefully on a chain around his neck. Before standing, he put the rock back into place.
This time, he ran down the slope, taking less care for his safety with each step. At the bottom he stopped to locate the steel door that was skilfully hidden amongst the wall’s many rocky crevices. Unbolting the sturdy deadbolt lock, he rushed into the dark of the eerie room.
When he looked at her, Hilary was already staring straight at him; it was as though she had been waiting for his return. The purple glint of her eyes poured straight into that of his blue eyes, as she whispered in a sickly sweet voice, “Do it.”
Immediately his body obeyed; His lithe legs carried him effortlessly to her bedside, where he removed the little key from around his neck and inserted it into one of the cuffs around her wrists. Without breaking eye contact, he turned the key anti-clockwise, until the cuff snapped open. Hilary’s left arm was released as a wide grin of satisfaction spread across her sallow face.
──
Marks’s mind was filled with the horrendous bellowing of a raging war over the control of his body. Since the moment that his hand had struck his face, the ability to voluntarily move a single limb had been lost. Now he was all but a muted voice, imprisoned inside a body that simply refused to act as his own. It was without a doubt, the most awful and terrifying feeling that he had ever experienced in his twenty-three years of life.
Hilary extended her free hand upwards to stroke Mark gently -almost lovingly- on the cheek. Pulling his ear down to her mouth, she whispered, “Go now,” in a gentle, sickly sweet voice.
Immediately his body obeyed, ignoring the feeble attempts of disapproving resistance coming from his imprisoned mind-voice. A frustrated roar reverberated through him, but as hard as he tried, he could not get it to escape through the lips which were no longer his own. I exist no more, he thought miserably. Perhaps I am merely a pitiful soul, stuck in the depths of limbo.
Looking through the eyes of the body that held him prisoner, he could see the one lone window of the small room, growing in clarity as he approached. Halting at the window sill, the body stopped, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Hilary for the last time; she was in an awkward sitting position, fiddling with the lock of the remaining cuff. She stopped for a brief moment to stare into his eyes and give a slow, reassuring nod. Her eyes closed, the lids a fluttering blur, before they reopened to reveal her purple eyes once more; they were brighter then Mark had ever seen them.
A loud thud sounded in unison with a striking pain that shot up his left elbow. Mark wished more than anything to be able to move his head to see what had caused the pain, but his body would not avert its gaze from the window. Ow! Yet another pain shot through him, but this time it was his funny bone that had been hit. The pain came over and over again as he realised in alarm what was happening.
The sleeting rain had long since stopped, and the sun was beginning to rise in the distance. In the dusty glass a faint ghost-like creature was only just visible. The outline of this figure seemed to be repeatedly slamming its arm against the strong safety glass, showing absolutely no mercy. Who would do such a stupid thing to themselves? Mark implored with awe.
As he watched his arm slam into the window, the skin on his elbow spilt wide open. Crimson blood splattered over the window grotesquely. Still Mark’s body did not stop savaging his arm; if anything, he just hit harder like some feeling less vegetable.
Aha! Something clicked in his brain creating a new wave of excitement and hope. He could not believe his blatant stupidity! Thoughts whirling out of control, he attempted to put the pieces together. Initially he had been resolved to thinking that he had not only lost total control over his body, but also been completely and utterly disconnected from it. Fear and shock had been so overwhelming that he had not even stopped to consider the possibility that this was not at all the case!
Now that his thoughts had all fallen into place, Mark had an entirely new way to look at the dreadful situation before him. If I can feel pain, he exclaimed in excitement. Then surely I am still connected to my body!
This new found euphoria of his was literally shattered as tiny cracks began appearing in the window. A shrill laugh of satisfaction escaped from the dry, cracked lips of Hilary, much to Mark’s disgust.
I must regain my control! A million thoughts zoomed their way around his mind as he tried, in desperation, to reclaim his body. He had absolutely no idea where to begin but decided that he had better think fast before it was far too late. He considered succumbing to the hopelessness that he felt but the thought of taking a backseat in his own body was to terrifying to ever allow.
All of his life he had controlled his movements perfectly and with great splendour. But now, in what could perhaps be considered as the most critical moment of his life, he realised with horror that he had absolutely no idea how such a thing was done; It had always came so naturally and effortlessly that Mark had never had reason to question the how. The ability to control his movement, he had simply taken for granted as almost all living creature surely does. But now he began to regret that stupid mistake. How though, was he to know that that knowledge would ever be needed?
Mark tried moving his being, his soul, around to all the parts of his body. This however, was to no success. He could feel it moving from his skull, spreading all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes like a mist. But that was all, nothing else happened. Movement was still not his to control. Nor was the frustration that he felt and how it was beginning to transform into hopeless agony.
The sound of breaking glass sent him furthermore into great panic as he watched the glass shards fall from their place. It had certainly been a challenge to break the safety glass. Even with his muscular body the glass had taken its toll on him; a limp, bloody mess hung by his side. On the floor a congealed pool of crimson had formed at his feet as blood flowed freely from the wounds on his arm.
The state in which his arm was now in reminded him of another time when it had also been victim to brutality. Only the first time, it had been a freak accident. He was fifteen at the time and was hanging out with some friends. Purely by chance they all stumbled upon an extraordinarily large tree. This tree had beautiful big branches and multi-coloured leaves. It was a mixture of greens and subtle reds. Being the young fool that he was back then, he decided to show off to his friends by attempting to get all the way to the top of the ancient tree. So he ran lithely up the little incline of a hill that the tree sat upon and swung his body up and onto the lowest branch available. From here it was just a matter of him jumping from branch to branch like some animal, at a very impressive pace. The thick branches seemed to him to be perfectly sturdy and so he didn’t feel the need to bother with testing their strength before putting his weight on them. That would of used up far too much time then he cared to waste.
This was all very well and good until about halfway up the tree; the branches were thinning, becoming further apart. Mark became over confident and in one tremendous leap upwards, missed the branch he had been meaning to grab a hold of. He of course slipped, falling a few metres before finally grasping onto an old rotted branch. Legs swinging about wildly, he tried with all of his effort to get up and on top of this branch so that he could continue his way back up the tree. This marvellous plan of his did not work. The branch snapped just as he was pulling his waist over the wood. He fell, watching the branches speed by as he went. It was a sickening feeling but this did not compare to what happened next.
While falling, hands outstretched to grasp onto something, anything, his sweaty fingers failed him. They managed to touch onto numerous scratchy branches but each time they just slipped away and he continued falling.
The horrendous snapping sound as he hit the ground mixed in with an atrocious thud and intake of breath was all that Mark heard as he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Friends came rushing at him from all sides shouting words that he could make absolutely no sense of. He had landed on his side with the wind knocked right out of him. Only a few centimetres from the eye closest to the ground, an ugly brown snail dawdled away, disturbed by the commotion.
In a daze Mark rolled over onto his back looking sidewards, gasping for air. What he saw was an arm bent crookedly and wrongly, protruding from underneath him. It was a moment before the awful realisation came to him; He was staring at his own mangled arm. The sight caused him to let out a long agonising moan as his friends crouched by him awestruck and helpless.
The memory dissolved, bringing him abruptly back to the present. By this time his body had managed to clamber up onto the window sill and dangle dangerously over the edge. Behind him, Hilary stood by the steel door, her strangely angelic white hair masking a wicked face. She simply stood there staring while waiting for the moment to escape.
While hanging literally on the verge of his demise Mark observed the scene before him for fear that it may be his last. The window overhung a great big rocky canyon. Red dirt coated the entire place as though this were the place where all the unwanted dust was dumped and forgotten. Green shrubbery grew in tiny patches here and there creating a brilliant speckled effect. On either side of the window the jagged walls of the canyon rose up far higher than his head. A forked stream ran a crooked line through the middle of the gorge before exiting through a narrow opening in the canyon’s rocky walls.
Mark knew that just around the corner from this very window was the opening to the cave that he had previously been in. Leading down from this opening was a steep and jagged slope that ran down to the base of the canyon which was at least five hundred metres below.
While taking in the magnificent scene before him, Mark was struck with an inspiration idea. There was no guarantee that it would work but he supposed that he had nothing left to lose. This idea that he had formulated had come to him after recalling the memory in which his arm had been broken. At first it was but an inkling of an idea but now it was fully formulated and ready to use.
When his arm had broken the excruciating pain had overpowered all else; that pain and that part of his body and been all that his mind had been connected to. So surely if he were to re-create this sensation then it would be so powerful that his mind would perhaps be able to connect with his arm once more! This revelation astounded him so immensely that his body was filled with glowing euphoria.
Pushing his mind to the limit Mark focused intently on the feeling of breaking his arm, while ignoring all else. The tingling first started in his littlest finger. He thought it was just a figment of his imagination but then it began to spread. It filled his whole hand and spread up his motionless arm. For the first time since losing control he could actually feel his arm. Really feel it! And better yet, all five of his fingers twitched, unnoticed by Hilary as she opened the door.
Mark’s hands planted firmly on the window sill right next to his hips. The muscle in his arms tensed as he pushed against the frame, propelling himself powerfully out of the window and into the empty space beyond.
Satisfied, Hilary exited from the tiny room into the cave on the other side of the steel door.
I liked the part where the woman turned her head towards that man and spoke his name. And I really loved the way the man reacted to his name being called out. 
I would surely want to read more so do carry on with it.