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Chapter 1 - Jennifer
The bag over my head is suffocating me and I am desperately trying to fight against the thick, dark panic flooding through my veins. I can’t breathe. My heart is beating so loudly inside my skull that I can hardly hear. My arms are throbbing with pain where the men grip me and hold me against the cold metal floor of the van. The engine roars as they speed in an unknown direction to an unknown destination and tears soak the fabric of the hood that is blinding me and stealing my air.
I have no idea what is going on.
I have no idea where I am being taken.
I know I am supposed to be paying as much attention as I can. Count the turns? How long have we been driving? How many people attacked me and threw me into this van? But I can’t. I can’t focus on anything. The panic and fear and overwhelming and I am frozen with terror.
Scream, Jennifer. Scream as loud as you can so someone can save you.
I open my mouth and nothing but a silent, empty sound escapes my lips.
My throat is clamped tight with the panic in my veins.
I try and scream again; this time a small whimpering sound reaches my ears. Was that me? Is that all I can do to save myself?
I force my lungs to take in a stale, heavy breath of air through the hood that smells damp and used, making the air that does reach my lungs feel toxic. I force myself not to gag.
Then I force the air to erupt from my mouth in a high-pitched scream that explodes through the small, confined space of the van in echoing, piercing waves.
A fist connects with my jaw and shocks me into silence, cutting the scream off. Then there’s another and another. The edges of my world begin to fade, and with the final blow, I lose consciousness.
Earlier that day
I wake up to the sun streaming through my window, warming my pillow and dragging me from sleep. That is why I love having the curtains open so that I can wake to the brightness of the natural sunshine on my face. I always sleep with the curtains open in my small apartment. I am lucky enough to live on one of the higher floors in my somewhat grimy apartment block. It is not the best of the best, but I love it. It is home and I have worked hard to be here, in my own space, living my own life.
My parents died when I was very young. A car crash took both of their lives and left me with not only physical scars but emotional scars as well.
I was tossed into the system, moving from foster home to foster home until I was eighteen. I am one of the luckier ones, though, as each family who took me in was a safe and loving home during the time that I was there.
When I was eighteen, my foster mom helped me get a job working in the local animal shelter. It’s a job that I love, finding homes for dogs and cats who have been abandoned or neglected. I think, apart from just loving animals, I find so much satisfaction in the process of seeing these homeless, sweet creatures find a new and fulfilling life once they are adopted.
Working there is my way of thanking the universe for always taking care of me. Even when things got difficult, even when I lost my only family, I was still supported, taken care of, and loved. I see my own story in each of their soft, beautiful little animal faces.
I might not have blood family left, but I do still have family. My friend, Lauren, is, has, and always will be like a sister to me. She was with me in a few of the foster homes and ever since we met, we have been inseparable. We spend almost every day together. Lauren has been my rock through thick and thin. When we were about ten years old she had a family that wanted to adopt her. She told them that she would only agree to it if they adopted me, too. They did not want two children, so she refused to go. She chose to stay with me in foster care over having a committed family. This still blows my mind when I think about it.
In the mornings, I am at the shelter working with the animals and every afternoon, we meet at the same coffee shop to do all of our admin and online work. I do all of the social media and application checks for the adoptions online and I love it, as I can work from anywhere. Lauren is a fashion designer. She is absolutely brilliant. I envy her talent and I am so proud of her for what she has achieved.
I stretch my legs out, reaching my tiptoes for the end of the bed and feeling the lazy notion of sleep drain from my body. I already see that it is going to be a beautiful day.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I jump up, ready for my coffee and ready for the day.
Lauren is always commenting about how unfair it is that I am such a morning person. She hates waking up. She enjoys slow mornings and lazy cups of coffee that ease her into each day. She can’t understand how I can be up and out of bed before my eyes have even had a chance to adjust to the light.
Whenever we have sleepovers or girls’ nights, I tease her the next morning. Her groggy morning, disheveled look is really cute. She likes it when I sleep over as that means she wakes up to the smell of coffee and doesn’t even have to get out of bed to make it herself, as I always deliver a cup directly to her. It is the only way I can coax her to wake up faster.
We usually meet at the coffee shop around one each day. It is like our office and the people there all know us and keep our table open each day, which I love as it feels like home there as well.
This morning, though, after checking in on my team at the shelter and making sure all my furry babies are happy and healthy, I will be working at the coffee shop alone. Lauren left for Paris last night. She is going to be showcasing her new work in a fashion show there and I am so freaking excited for her I can barely contain myself. However, that means that I will have to suffer through missing her for almost three months, and I hate the idea of that.
But I will survive, and when she gets back, she can tell me all of her amazing stories.
The kettle clicks and I pour the hot water into my prepared cup. The rich scent of coffee fills my little kitchen and I smile as I breathe it in. Glancing at my watch, I see that I have an hour before I need to be at the shelter. There is a new dog that arrived last night, and I want to meet him and take some photos to get his picture on social media so that I can start finding him a forever home. Then I have a number of new applications to do checks on so that they can take their new furry babies home this afternoon.
After my coffee, I stand under a warm shower and then throw on a pair of jeans and a sleeveless top. It is going to be hot today. I toss my head forward, letting my long blond hair fall upside down so that I can wrap my hands around it, pulling it into a somewhat messy bun that at least keeps it up and away from my face while I am working.
I touch some gloss onto my lips, smearing them together and doing one last check in the mirror before I am ready to go. I hardly ever wear make-up. I was blessed was beautiful, long dark lashes and it makes my life so much easier, not needing mascara.
