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Holly
Now I’m fucking terrified. There is zero conversation, and it’s pretty obvious when we reach the town border that they’re not taking me home.
“What’s going on?” Even my voice sounds weak and afraid and I hate the person I’ve morphed into right now and yet all I’m greeted with is a wall of silence.
I can’t even fight, struggle, or escape because the mountain of steel I’m sitting between is an impenetrable barrier of muscle formed around men who obviously don’t have the ability to string a sentence together.
If I close my eyes and open them again, I’m hoping this is just a nightmare because what the hell is happening to me?
My voice shakes as I say, “Please, where are we going?”
Again, they just stare straight ahead and I know there will be no polite conversation happening with these two stone menaces.
The tinted windows prevent anyone looking in and my heart lurches when I see a set of handcuffs in the inside pocket of one of the guards.
I watch in disbelief as the familiar landscape changes to a barren one and the road appears to stretch endlessly in front of me. The only thing that happens on the journey is the bottle of water placed in my hands by one of the silent guards.
The car is fast and the silence oppressive, and I wonder if they are taking me to an early grave. The landscape is devoid of plants or vegetation, telling me we’re heading into the scrub desert and my heart thumps frantically inside me as I try to make sense of what’s going on.
I feel so tired, sore and desperate to stretch as the minutes turn to hours and nothing changes. Despite the comfort of the car and the air conditioning that keeps an even temperature, I find myself in the scariest situation of my life and try desperately to plan my escape from it.
Desperately hoping we must stop for fuel, the restroom, or food, I decide to plead a call of nature and somehow escape from them. Maybe there will be someone who could help me, alert the authorities, anything. I don’t even have my purse because it’s right where I left it at Media Corp. I have nothing but my tortured thoughts as I sense my life is over almost as soon as it began, after one moment of insanity.
Why did I take that chance? I am the biggest fool because there’s a reason Dexter Prince is the king of media. He’s ruthless and yet I never really expected I’d register on his radar - ever. Why is a small story so damaging? Why is he so angry, it doesn’t make sense?
Thinking of the source of my story, I wonder if he knew it would provoke this reaction. It makes me fear for him and I wonder if he knows this is happening. Perhaps he can alert the authorities, but then again, how would he know? Nothing in my life makes sense anymore and as my life flashes before my eyes, I try to make sense of the situation I have fallen into.
I’m not even sure how long, or how far we travel because by the time the car grinds to a halt, I appear to have fallen asleep and wake with a start.
Before I can register where we are, I am pulled roughly from the car and given no time to plan a misguided escape. Is this it, am I to expect a bullet in the head and an open grave to fall into? It certainly feels that way, and yet as the security light illuminates the path, I notice we have arrived at some kind of building.
The two guards take an arm each and almost drag me toward a door set in a stone wall and I do the only thing I can and scream so loudly it almost shatters my own eardrums. “Shut the fuck up, there’s nobody around to hear you, anyway.”
The first words the man on my right speaks sound angry, rough and unforgiving and as the tears stream down my face, I am pushed roughly through the door and it slams behind me.
I stumble and reach out and, finding nothing, fall to a heap on the ground that is hard against my knees. It hurts like hell and I gasp as pain shoots through me as my knee scrapes against what appears to be concrete.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see the faint outlines of a metal bed and chair in the corner of the room. There are no windows and I shiver as I imagine anything could be in here right now and I feel my heart thumping out of control. I’m a prisoner. It’s obvious. This room has no luxuries, no mod cons and is designed to strike fear in its occupant’s heart. I can’t see a thing and just sit shivering on the cold ground wondering what the hell just happened.
Suddenly, a light flickers and illuminates the room in a dim glow, and I look around in disbelief. I was right, this is a prison and the single metal bed with nothing but a thin gray blanket mocks me as I crawl toward it. The stone walls are cold and filled with cobwebs and the chair is placed above a bucket that can only mean one thing. This is it. Complete humiliation because this appears to be my new home for as long as that bastard says it is.
What the fuck did I do to deserve this? I wrote a story, big deal, I’m a reporter, it’s what we do. The man’s mad, insane, a lunatic and I’m now at his mercy.
Looking around, I can’t see anything I can use to defend myself against the monster and as my situation hits home, I start to shake—with rage.
How dare he? I could kill him with my bare hands. The man’s deranged, villainous and so screwed when I make it out of here and report him to the cops. Dexter Prince had better not show his face again because I’m likely to alter it permanently and if I have to be in prison, I may as well go down for his murder because at least then it would be deserved.
What sort of fucking madman fires someone, then kidnaps and tosses them in a prison that I wouldn’t keep a dog in?
I am actually fuming and quite honestly, I’m glad of my anger to keep me warm because this place is freezing. There must be some kind of air conditioning in here because there’s a heatwave outside, which is why I’m wearing totally unsuitable clothes for arctic temperatures.
I’m hungry, tired, freezing and afraid. My defenses are down, and I’m trying to deal with every emotion under the sun right now.
Grabbing the thin gray blanket, I wrap it around myself and start pacing. I know better than to waste my energy screaming. I’m not stupid and know these thick walls are impenetrable in every way. There is nobody around to hear my screams, that’s a bit obvious right now and I have no answers to any of the questions that are burning inside me right now.
I don’t even want to touch that disgusting bed and it took all my human survival skills just to touch the grimy old blanket. The only weapon I have is these impossibly high heels and so as soon as that door opens, I intend on being behind it ready to attack. Now I’m angry and liable to piss in the bucket and throw the contents at the first person through that door because God help me if I’m about to end my days here, I’m not going down without a fight.
