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They didn’t answer. I get the feeling I was alone in a room and stand up, only to be shoved right back into the seat. I wasn’t alone. I do my best to listen for any clues that might give me an idea about who these men are, but the muffled sounds around me make it almost impossible to discern anything useful. I know I’m outnumbered and outmatched but I’m not about to go down without a fight. I will draw blood, scar, and maim anyone I can.
“Grab her foot,” I hear a man say.
That’s when I know exactly what’s going to happen. They’re going to tie me to the chair. I know this is my last chance to escape. I muster all my strength and jump out of the chair. I can’t see my enemies, but I know they are within reach.
“Grab her!”
“No!” I scream and kick out.
My heart races as I thrash about, refusing to let them tie me to the chair. Every self-defense move I've ever been taught flashes through my mind, and I fight like an absolute wildcat, desperate to break free from their grasp. I take a couple of hits, but I refuse to give up, driven by a fierce determination to escape. I did not survive a plane crash to be raped and murdered by thugs.
“Who are you!” I shout at what is now three men.
With a burst of strength, I break free from their hold and jerk the bag from my head. I can see the door and run like the hounds of hell are chasing me. I burst out of the house, screaming like a banshee as my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. I see the street and that’s where I head all while screaming for help. Suddenly, I run into something hard.
“Paige! It’s me!”
Travis’s face came into focus. I'm in his arms. I’m safe.
"Get me out of here!" I scream, my voice raw with fear and desperation.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just go! They’re coming!”
Without hesitation, he leads me to a waiting motorcycle. He looks at my hands. “I don’t have anything to break these. Just hold on the best you can.”
I could hear the men behind us. “Go!” I shout again.
The roar of the engine drowns out the pounding of my heart. The men’s shouting fades into the distance. I do my best to hold onto the waistband of his shorts. It’s a struggle, but I hang on.
He doesn't stop until we reach the airport. He hops off and then helps me off the bike.
“You’re okay,” he says. “I’ve got you. They didn’t follow us.”
“I want to get out of here,” I whisper. “Please. I want to go home. I can’t be here.”
“Okay,” he assures me, kissing the top of my head. “We need to break the zip tie. This looks bad and we’re going to have the cops all over us.”
“I think I can my hands out,” I tell him.
I struggle, pulling and tugging.
“Babe, you’re going to hurt your hands. I’ll go see if someone has scissors or a knife.”
I give him a dry look. “We’re at the airport. No one is going to bring that stuff to the airport. I almost got it.”
I pull again, twisting until my hand is free. I quickly pull the other hand out and drop the zip tie on the ground.
I'm shaking like a leaf but also exhilarated by the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Let’s go. I don’t want to be here another minute.”
"What the hell happened?" Travis demands, his voice urgent as he tries to make sense of the chaos.
"We have to get on the first plane off this island. I don't care where we go. I want to be gone."
With a nod, he takes my hand, leading me into the airport. I can’t let go of him. He uses his credit card to secure two tickets to Portland. I see the way the woman at the ticket counter is looking at me. My clothes are stained, and I know I stink. My wrists are red and raw.
