“Where do you think you’re going? We’ve been waiting for you,” he tells me, beefy hands reaching for my shoulders.
I open my mouth, but another hand comes from behind and covers it, cutting off the scream before it even gets started. Panicking now, I kick out at the guy in front of me, and swing my backpack toward his face, but for a big guy, he moves fast and easily rips it from my hands.
I pick my feet up and slam them against my car, pushing back, hoping to catch the guy behind me off guard, but he only takes a half step back.Damn, he must be big, too.I can’t see him, but the arm wrapped around my shoulder is bulging with muscles. He picks me up like I’m weightless.
Wild with fear, I jerk my legs up and down, kick back at his knees, and basically, throw all my strength at him, but nothing loosens his granite grip.
The guy in front of me folds his massive arms across his chest and laughs. “I was expecting a bit more from you. Are you sure that’s all you’ve got?”
Terror rips through me. I start thrashing again, and the guy behind me heaves a large sigh.
“Tommy, stop fucking around. It’s broad daylight. Grab her legs,” a guttural voice orders from behind me.
Tommy scowls at his friend but moves toward me. “Hold your fucking horses. Just trying to enjoy the moment. Besides, Trent’s going to take care of the cameras.”
The words reverberate in my head. Trent’s going to take care of the cameras. Are theykidnappingme? What the fuck? Is this a game? Football hazing?
Some of the fear leaves me, and anger takes over. When the guy bends over to grab my legs, I bring my knee up and slam it into his big fat ugly mug.
Blood gushes from his nose, and he curses and yells.
The guy behind me chuckles.
“Mother fucker. You fucking bitch. I think you broke my nose!” Tommy screams at me while holding his hands to his face and pinching his nose. “I think it’s time you took a nap.” He waves a bloody hand at the guy behind me.
“Nighty night,” the other guy whispers in my ear.
A prick to my neck, and the whole world goes dark.
* * *
A throbbing headachewakes me from my sleep. Hurting, I try to massage the pain away, but my arm is stuck.Why can’t I move my arm?Confused, I roll my head to the side and look down at my body. The burgundy sleeves of my sweater have been pushed up to my elbows, and my wrists have been tied to the arms of the chair. I tug on them, but they refuse to budge.
I lift my head, but the weight is too much, so I let it fall back against the wood behind me. Blinking several times, I try to focus on my surroundings, but everything is spinning in a lazy circle.
What is wrong with me?
Keeping my head still, details slowly become clearer. In front of me, sunlight streams through a dirty window set high in a wall of equally dingy brown slats. A single door is encased on the same wall, which isn’t very big… maybe five or six feet long.
I roll my head from one side to the other. The world spins again, and I close my eyes to make it stop. Seconds or minutes later, I’m not sure, I open them again and blink continuously until that side of the room comes into focus. A dirty sink with a two-door cabinet above it. There are dishes and a McDonald’s bag on the tiny counter beside it.
Where am I?
Alarm buzzes at the edge of my brain, but it’s cold, and I’m so tired, I can’t think. My heavy eyes drift shut.
Crickets. A croaking frog. The sounds pierce my sleep, and I peel my eyes open. Moonlight streams through the window from earlier, flooding the small space. It’s nighttime, and I’m still in this… shack, for lack of a better word. Time has little meaning, but the sun was up the last time I opened my eyes. The cold night air makes me shiver. I wonder how many hours have passed.
How did I get here?The last thing I remember was going to the diner to meet Trent. He was… distracted. On his phone. I left. He stayed. Two guys stopped me. Memories sweep through my mind, and I gasp. Those bastards kidnapped me.
My mouth is wooly like cotton. I swipe my swollen tongue across my dry lips, but it feels like sandpaper scraping across the delicate surface. I’m so damn thirsty. A tear rolls down my face, and I open my dry lips. It slides into the corner of my mouth, but the drop of moisture barely registers.
I wonder if Lionel’s home and searching for me. A half-sob escapes at the thought, but I squeeze my eyes closed until it subsides. Crying isn’t going to help. I’m already severely dehydrated, and I need to get out of here. The fog lifts a little.Think, Willa.I straighten and look down at the ropes tying my wrists to the chair.
Thick, tan, rough. They look immovable. I jerk on my wrists, trying to see if the ropes are loose enough for me to pull my hands through, but they’re too tight, and the rough rope scrapes the raw skin underneath, so I stop. Whoever tied these did a fantastic job.
Frustrated, I look around for something sharp to cut them off. My eyes land on the window, but it’s too high. There are a few items in the sink, but the dim light makes it difficult to see what they are.
I try to stand, but something tight pulls at my ankles. Bending over, I peer down at my legs. Also tied. Picking up my feet, I try to move my ankles away from the chair legs, but they don’t budge.
