[ WP ] Young Jonathan has been locked in his room for two years . Arguments through the walls and scraps left by random men connected him to the outside world . After an evening of screaming and ungodly noises last week , it has been quiet . A cookie has been slid under his door each morning since .

A dim yellow light crept under the thick door and signalled the start of another day. It was Jonathan's only way of being sure of the morning, as no light ever made it past the boarded window. He picked up a tiny metal car, long missing its wheels, and scratched a faint line into the wall behind his mattress. He did n't really know why he was counting, other than he'd seen people do it in prison films when he was younger. *When he'd been with his family*. 
 
 He crossed the room and relieved himself in the toilet. After flushing, he filled his plastic yellow mug and drank thirstily. 
 
 He had n't slept well for the last few nights. A week ago, there had been many hours of terrible shouting, followed by a single scream. Then a deathly silence that kept away the sandman that night. He had instead kept crouched in a corner, hoping that for the first time in two years, the bedroom door *wouldn't* open. 
 
 The man that usually fed him had n't come since then, and this morning his tiny stomach rumbled louder than it had any right to. Instead, for the last six mornings a large, thin chocolate cookie had been slid under his door some time after waking. His mouth began to water at the thought of it. He decided to distract himself for now with his favourite memory game - *things from back home*. He would go through the alphabet again and again, each time thinking up a different object that began with the letter he was currently on.'M', however, was always reserved for'mommy', no matter how many times he went round. 
 
 He had been through the alphabet three times and was currently on'F' for'Frederick the stuffed bunny', when the cookie slowly slid through the door crack. 
 
 `` Thank you,'' he whispered as a smile broke across his face. He always thanked whoever gave him food - it was polite, after all - but he had never had a response. 
 
 `` You're welcome,'' said a rather frail, high pitched voiced. 
 
 Jonathan's eyes widened and he jumped off his mattress and ran to the door. `` Wait!'' he cried desperately, pressing himself hard against the wood. `` Wait! Please!'' 
 
 `` I- I ca n't. I should n't.'' 
 
 `` Who are you?'' he asked, unsure what *to* ask. He'd long given up the idea of his captors speaking to him. 
 
 ``... Jenny,'' said the reluctant voice. `` I should n't be talking to you.'' 
 
 `` Please. Help me.'' 
 
 `` I ca n't. They'll hurt us both if I do.'' 
 
 `` Oh.'' He did n't want the girl on the other side to come to any harm. `` Why am I here?'' he asked instead of pressing the matter. 
 
 `` I... I think you're valuable to them. I do n't really know why.'' 
 
 `` Them?'' 
 
 `` My parents,'' Jenny replied. 
 
 `` Parents?'' Jonathan repeated, as his body went numb. How could any parents treat a child like that - to threaten to hurt Jenny. They could n't! 
 
 `` Yes,'' came a quiet, embarrassed reply. `` I'm sorry for what's happened to you.'' 
 
 There was a moment of quiet, but Jonathan did n't dare allow it to hang for long, in case of losing this wonderful, melodic companion. 
 
 `` The cookies are lovely.'' 
 
 `` Thank you,'' said the voice. It sounded brighter now, and Jonathan could well imagine it being accompanied by a smile. `` I make them myself,'' she added. 
 
 `` Am I going to be here forever?'' 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 `` Jenny?'' 
 
 ``... no'' she said, eventually. There was something odd about the way she said it, and about the long pause before it. Jonathan began to tremble. 
 
 `` What are they going to do to me?'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry - I've said too much already. I have to go.'' 
 
 `` Speak to me again tomorrow?'' Jonathan pleaded. 
 
 `` Maybe, Jonathan,'' came the distant reply, almost lost under the sound of footsteps. 
 
 He picked up the cookie and took it back to his mattress. His hunger was lost for the moment, and he waved it idly in his hand as thought about Jenny and the way she'd said `` no''. 
 
 He knew he had to get out. He had to escape soon, or there would be no escape at all. 
 
 He also knew he needed Jenny on his side if there was to be any chance of getting out. 
 
 He would try again tomorrow. 
 
 -- - 
 
 /r/nickofnight 
 
 Edit: I've put part 2 on my sub ( so as not to spam this thread ) 
 
 Thanks for the great prompt /u/DoorToDecember 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

