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Right Here In My Arms	By : LittleMissDisaster Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > HIM Views: 1841 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of HIM. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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For weeks, things continued in the same vein. They would write their desires on a piece of paper and tape it to the wall, when they woke next, the stuff would be waiting. They got water to bathe in, fresh clothing to change into. The lights were turned on and off at a whim, Jean Claude coming in to admire them, or ordering them to play.
At first they refused, but soon they discovered that when they wouldn’t play, no new food appeared, their waste wasn’t cleared away and Ville got no cigarettes. They grudgingly performed for the faceless Jean Claude and learned to go along with what he ordered.
They didn’t hear from the girl again until one night Ville was pacing because he couldn’t sleep and he heard the sobbing again.
“Where have you been?” he asked softly, leaning his forehead against the glass.
There was a mighty sniff and then silence.
“Please talk to me. I haven’t talked to anyone in days.” It was true. The band had lapsed into a defeated silence for the last few days, giving up on the plan to find an escape.
“What do you want?” the girl’s voice caught on her sadness.
“A name? I’m Ville.”
“I know who you are.” Her tone was choked, “It’s all my fault you’re here in the first place.”
“How?” Ville demanded suddenly, then regretted it in the long silence that followed.
“I was listening to your latest album, Jean Claude like the sound and looked at the liner notes. He said you were beautiful and he would like to meet you guys. The next day you were here.” She sobbed, “It’s all my fault.”
“It sounds to me like it is Jean Claude’s fault.” Ville said bitterly.
“But I should have known this is what he would do. I should have never brought the damned CD out while he was home! I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you have anything to be sorry about.” Ville put his hand against the glass again, feeling it was warm in that spot.
“How do you always manage that?”
“Manage what?”
“To put your hands right where mine are. It’s impossible to see out of the box.”
“What’s your name?”
“Roxanne.”
“Roxanne, nice to meet you, sort of.”
“Right.” She said sarcastically.
“How many other ‘pets’ are there?”
“Four besides you.”
“Are they bands as well?”
“No.”
“Why does Jean Claude keep people?”
“Why? Because he’s bored and mean and selfish and a bastard.”
“Are you his pet as well?”
“Might as well be. I’m as much a prisoner here as you, only I’m allowed outside.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been with him forever.” there was a sudden noise, “I shouldn’t be here.”
Ville was about to call out when he saw the door open and close. He sighed and went to sleep.

“This shit isn’t working.” Lily said, irritated, “There has to be a way to get out of here. I can’t take another day in here with you morose mother fuckers!”
It was close to two months of captivity for them, not that they had any way to measure time. Jean Paul had left the lights on again. They once debated about which they preferred. The room got hot with the lights on for more than a half an hour, but the alternative was the pitch black where they couldn’t see anything at all and the sound of their own heartbeats began to drive them mad.
“And you’re just one fucking ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Migé shot back acidly.
“Well at least he doesn’t bitch and moan.” Burton glared at Migé.
“Oh come on guys!” Gas shouted, “This isn’t helping at all!”
“Well do you have any suggestions? Because I really think yelling at each other is the only thing left to do!”
“Guys, stop.” Ville said quietly, “Gas is right. This isn’t helping.”
“What do you recommend we do then?” Burton sneered.
“Find a way out. Somehow, things go in and out of this box. We have to find out where.”
Lily looked around, “It isn’t any of the walls. They’re solid glass. We’ve tried every one, repeatedly.”
“It must be through the ceiling.” Ville said, pondering.
“Only problem is that when the lights are off, it’s too dark to see it, and when they’re on, it’s too bright.”
“I say we look once the lights are off again. Lily, you go up on me, and we’ll all hold each other steady. It has to be there, somewhere behind the instruments I think.”
“All right.” They agreed.
It was quite some time before the lights were once again turned off. They occupied their time playing instruments, playing different ones than they did in HIM. Ville got to play drums. Since they weren’t actually Gas’, he wasn’t nearly as possessive of them.
They wasted no time in hoisting Lily up on Ville’s shoulders, and steadying the both of them, they began to search the ceiling. It took hours; they went over the ceiling inch by inch, examining every millimeter. It proved to be as smooth as the walls. Even the air vent was only a few holes cut in the glass. Exploring the holes, they discovered the glass was three inches thick.
Defeated, they slumped together in the center of the room.
“There’s nothing.” Burton said vaguely.
“Nope. Not a single seam, handle, button, nothing.” Lily agreed.
“I don’t understand! How do they get in?” Migé banged his fist on the floor.
Ville blindly reached his hand. He found it and held it, “There has to be some way. We won’t stay here forever.”
Migé squeezed his hand, as though he believed him, “Sure Ville. We’ll find a way out.”
Ville could hear the insincerity and the hopelessness in his voice. It made him want to weep. A few tears did escape, and he hastily wiped them away, even thought he knew no one could see them, “Perhaps we should ask for a blow torch.”
Lily chuckled weakly, “Well we didn’t get the hammer or the glass cutter.”
For the last few weeks they had made a game out of writing outrageous items on the papers taped to the wall just to see what they could get away with. So far, they had been granted 37 chopsticks, an ashtray from Las Vegas, scratch and sniff fruit stickers and a hula hoop. They were denied the hammer, glass cutter, lamps and a bowling ball.
“What was the last thing we asked for?” Burton asked, trying to distract them all.
“The hood ornament from a Rolls Royce.” Gas replied.
“What should we put down next?”
“Spatula.” Lily said.
“Why spatula?”
He shrugged, then remembered no one could see him, “Why not?”
“Very well. Give us the lighter Ville.” He lit it and wrote spatula at the bottom of the list of things they actually needed.
“Put down gum too.” Ville asked absently.
“Alright.” He handed the lighter back to Ville, who used it to light a cigarette.
Gas yawned loudly, “Well I’m out.”
The other men yawned as well.
“Might as well sleep.” Migé said and they quickly fell asleep.
Ville sat up and waited for Roxanne to come, as she did most times the guys were sleeping.
He waited only a few minutes until he heard her whisper, “Ville?”
“Here.” He moved to where her voice was coming from, “Tell me the news.”
“The search for you guys has slowed.” She said, still felling guilty, despite Ville’s reassurance that he did not hold her responsible for their imprisonment, “But your friend Bam has upped the reward. He’s offering a hundred grand for information leading to your safe return.”
Tears leaked out at the thought of how worried his friend must be. He wondered if he would ever see Bam do some crazy stunt again, “You could always tell him where we are and get the money.”
“Jean Claude would kill me first.”
“Why do you stay with him?”
“I have no choice.”
“Why not?” he demanded
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She said so quietly he barely heard.
“Alright. How was Big Boy’s showcase?”
“Great. He’s a really nice guy. Invited the whole crowd to a bar for a drink after.”
“Sounds like him.” Ville smiled to himself, “How did that go?”
“Three broken stools, a glass or two and one cracked rib.”
“So then just your average night.”
“Basically. Bam's getting his own show.”
“That will not end well. Is the whole crew participating?”
“I don't know.”
Ville paused for a second, “Why don’t you help us escape? You can come with us, we’ll report Jean Claude to the authorities, everything will work out.”
“It’s not so easy. Authority means nothing to Jean Claude.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any way he’d ever let us go.”
She sniffed loudly, “No. even if he get sick of your music, he’d never let you leave.”
“I didn’t think so.” He lit a cigarette, “Roxanne?”
“Yes?”
“What did you do before Jean Claude?”
“Before? There wasn’t a before. I’ve always been here.”
“Always? Didn’t you have a family? Friends? Boyfriends?”
“No, my family all died when I was very young. Jean Claude took me in when it looked like I would survive.”
“How did they die?”
“Plague.” He heard her adjust position, “I was seven, he felt he needed a protégé.”
“Plague? Where are you from?”
She paused for a second. She’d said more than she’d intended to, “Um England. I’ve been everywhere though. Before we were here, we lived in Peru, Seattle before that, Chile, India, Japan. When I was little I thought it was normal for people to move like gypsies.” She said quickly, laughing nervously.
“Roxanne, how old are you?” he had been toying with an idea for the last week or two, and he was ready to learn if it was just the product of his under stimulated imagination. He thought.
“Twenty two.”
“There was no plague outbreak in England twenty two years ago.” He said carefully, lighting another cigarette.
“No,” she whispered, “there wasn’t.”
“So how old are you?”
He barely heard her answer, “Five hundred and seven in May.”

~*~So next chapter. what do you think? ~*~md
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Right Here In My Arms