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One
Skye
Present
“No matter where you are, we’ll find you…”
Captivity is not a new thing for me.
As I sit bound, blindfolded, in yet another hopeless predicament, I try to count the number of times I’ve been in danger.
One…
Two…
Three…
I have to let out a soft laugh because, honestly, what in the fuck is my life all about? Did I really just do this to myself?
A soft groan sounds nearby, startling me. It’s not just me then. As the sounds stretch, I realize it’s another girl.
This is interesting, I think, and not in a good way.
The girl starts to whimper, and then she cries, and before I know it, she’s wailing at the top of her lungs.
I twist my head in her direction, my lips perking up as I ask, “First time?”
Her wails stop short for a moment, and then she’s hiccupping as she gasps out, “What the fuck?”
I scoot back on the dirt floor, searching for a wall. When my back presses against cold stone, I let out a soft sigh. The air is musky, wet. I can smell pine and soil. Nostalgia engulfs me.
She must be asking the same question as me because she says, “Where are we?”
“I think we’re in the bush somewhere,” I say. “Probably a cabin? I’ve been in a cabin before. Once. It was for my birthday and my guys wanted to spoil me.”
The girl is no longer crying loudly, which means she’s paying attention to me. Good. Because I hate when people cry.
“A lot of memories in that cabin,” I muse. “It was great. Ten out of ten.”
“What the fuck?” she repeats.
Even though I can’t see anything behind this blindfold, I twist my head up so that it’s facing the ceiling. Images play out before my eyes.
Scenes from my childhood.
Teenage years.
Adulthood.
“Are we going to die?” she then asks, her voice fearful. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
I’m close to telling her we might.
But I stop myself because that’s not true.
I didn’t get this far in life to be snuffed out by a bunch of greasy captors.
I had a plan.
