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No worries.
It’s time for plan B.
I roll around, adjusting my position so that my feet are against the backseat of the car. I shove my feet hard. Once, twice, and then a third time. The seat jerks a little, but doesn’t break free. It’s okay, I remind myself. It’s okay. I know that I don’t have a lot of time. I’m not sure if the kidnapper went to the bathroom at a gas station, but if he did, I can probably flag someone down for help. Screaming in public is a good way to be saved, right?
I kick again and again. It could be my imagination, but I think I felt the chair loosen a little. I kick again and again, feeling tired and sweaty, but then I give it one final kick, and the chair pops open. I’m free. I wiggle around and crawl out of the tiny opening. I pop my head into the backseat and look around.
All my crap is here: my suitcase and even stuff from my hotel room that I definitely hadn’t packed. Shit. This guy is a professional. He really wanted me, didn’t he? I don’t have time to wonder if he’s some sort of insane stalker or just a weirdo because I don’t know where he is or how much time I have.
Stumbling around, I manage to get into the backseat. I reach for my bathroom bag, which is sitting on the backseat. Pulling out a pair of nail clippers, I cut the plastic zip ties that were on my wrist. Everything hurts, but I have to get out of here and fast. I don’t see my phone. Maybe he took it. Either way, I’m out. I shove the nail clippers back in the bag, and then I open the door. I don’t close it. I don’t want him to hear the sound and come running.
I’m not at a gas station, though.
Once I’m out of the car, I realize that I’m in the woods, and not just any woods.
My woods.
Fuck.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I turn around in a blaze of fury and see that the lights in my house are on. He’s here. He’s at my house. Why the hell is this guy at my house?
For a second, I worry about Maple and Syrup. They’re in the house with the crazy guy, but I know my cats, and I know that they aren’t going to let anyone touch them. I fight the urge to go storming into the house. Instead, I give a quick, high-pitched whistle. It’s the sound I make to let my cats know it’s time to go play outside. Hopefully, they’ll hear me and go running out of the back kitty door.
I move toward the woods quickly. It’s dark, so I have that going for me. Under the cover of night, this guy isn’t going to be able to find me in the woods. This is my place. It’s only a 10-minute walk through the woods to Henrietta’s house. If I can make it there, she’ll let me use her phone to call the police and I can tell them exactly what happened and what this guy is up to.
I wait patiently, and sure enough, my cats come bounding out of the house a few seconds later.
The asshole inside doesn’t even notice them leave.
My cats run to me and jump up into my arms. I hug them quickly and then turn to start the trek to my neighbor’s house. I’m not going to slow down until I get to her place. I can’t really run through the woods. Even in the daylight, these woods are full of holes and fallen tree limbs and other things you can easily fall over. Now, at night, it’s going to be slow going.
That’s fine.
I just have to keep moving and pray he doesn’t find me.
My cats are silent in my arms as I move away from my house and deeper into the woods. Stepping carefully, I keep an ear open, but I don’t hear any sounds. Good. Maybe he doesn’t know I’ve escaped. Maybe he doesn’t know where I’ve gone.
Maybe...
But then I hear shouting, and angry voices.
Fuck.
There are two guys.
Of course.
Why wouldn’t crazy man have a driver?
“Shit,” I grumble, and I start trying to run. It’s a stupid idea to run in the forest at night, but I’m desperate. My heart is practically beating out of my chest as I move, racing into the darkness. My cats are weirdly silent as I move. I think they can tell that I’m scared. Cats can sense emotions, right? I’ve always thought that Maple and Syrup could. They have a great habit of always calming me down when I’m starting to feel tense.
I keep going, breathing heavily. I will myself to stay silent. I do not want these guys to find me. I don’t even know what they’re going to do. I mean, why are they even at my house? What are they looking for? And out of all of the girls in the world, why would they want to kidnap me?
I’m nobody.
Nothing.
