Enough.
Chapter 3
I remained completely silent and still as the man carried me around hallways and rooms and through blood stained doors. I didn't even dare to shiver. Finally, he unlocked a door. The room had a long, dirty staircase, and was cold and damp. The man tore the rope away from my wrists, set me down, and stared intently into my eyes.
"Your eyes," he said. I didn't dare speak. "Ice blue..." he stuck one hand out and shoved me down the staircase. I screamed, tumbling down the old unstable stairs, and finally landed on the hard concrete ground. I moaned, and he laughed and shut the door. I groaned and pushed myself off the ground. I hadn't broken anything, but my back was already starting to ache. I sighed and got up. The room looked pretty much the same as the last room, except there was no matress or blood. I hoped. It was dark and damp. I sat down, rubbing my arms, and thought about what my mom was doing. She'd probably found the note by now; it was around five when I was taken, and she usually got up around 6. I thought about her drug addiction, the main reason I ran away. She was completely addicted, and took my money whenever I managed to get any. She was unemployed; my father was sick, so some nights we would go without food, which was okay with me. I had never been a really hungry person.
I wonder how long I'm going to be here before I think of a way out, I thought to myself. I remembered a book I had read where men escaped from prision by digging through the ground with spoons, but I doubted that would do we any good. Suddenly, I had an idea. I grabbed a rock from the corner of the room, ran up the stairs, and started to smash the doorknob with it. All I heard was deep laughter, and my arm froze. Had he been by the door the whole time? I dropped the rock and immediatly backed away, almost falling from the staircase. I had nothing. NO way of getting out.

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