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Searching for my jacket and purse, I curse when I can’t find either. Guess I’m going to have to wait until I find a neighbor to call the police. And my parents.
My parents...
I feel a dent in my chest at the thought of them. We haven’t spoken in weeks and for us that is normal. They’ve always treated me with respect and coldness. And now as an adult, I treat them with the same respect and coldness back.
But that doesn’t mean that they won’t be worried when they find out that I’ve been kidnapped. And what about Jess and Katie...
A wave of sudden nausea rolls through me. A mixture from being abducted and from last night’s partying.
If only I had let them follow me home...so stupid! And what is wrong with me? I’ve never had this much bad luck in my life and now not a week has passed but I’ve already managed to survive a bank robbery only to then get kidnapped.
When I get back home, I’m going to carry pepper spray with me wherever I go and maybe I’ll get a guard dog..I feel myself pale because what’s to say that I’ll ever go home again? Don’t captors usually keep their captives for as long as they possibly can?
Scurrying, my eyes land on the door again and I stick my head out into the hallway. There’s nobody walking around. No snores coming from any of the closed rooms, no music playing anywhere and nobody’s talking.
It’s almost as if I’m alone here but I can’t know for sure and I can’t act like I am. That would be too risky. Going out into the hallway, I stay close to the walls and I don’t know how to describe this place. It’s a mix of a hunting lodge and a 19th century Italianate manor. It doesn’t look scary, doesn’t look like the lair of a kidnapper but instead it’s airy and light.
Welcoming.
Inwardly I shake my head at the absurdity and I continue down the hallway, noticing that one of the doors is ajar and with a tight breath, I take a cautious peek. It seems to be a male’s bedroom. Navy walls, a king sized bed in dark wood with black, silk sheet.
The bed is made. Like whoever potentially slept in there is awake. But who slept in that bed? The kidnapper? In which case that would mean that I’ve been kidnapped by someone who has a pretty refined taste.
I need to get out of here before my captor finds me. I go dizzy at the thought, at the thought of being hurt again. And maybe this time it won’t be just a knife but something much worse. The reality of the situation slashes through me and my first instinct is to scream. My second one is to be as quiet as a mouse and I go with the second one. Circling the staircase, I carefully walk down the steps.
They creak but it’s more like little whispers luckily, until I put my foot on a particular step and it lets out an outdrawn groan. I freeze, my eyes flaring but nobody comes running. Nobody comes at me with a weapon or ropes to tie me up with. Slowly, I relax some and this time I avoid that step.
When I’m finally down at the end of the staircase, I look around for the exit, drawing a sigh of relief when my eyes land on the front door. I’m just slowly and surely going to walk out and then I’ll run as fast as I can until I find someone who can help me.
My heart beats like a hammer when I clasp my hand around the doorknob and I tug. Nothing happens. I tug again. Nothing happens again. I panic slightly. A key is needed. A key that I don’t have. And there’s no way, I can kick that door in. It’s huge and heavy and made out of sturdy timber or something equal to that.
Starting to tremble I look around for another way to get out. I try all of the windows on the first floor but they seem to be locked. I can’t get out. I can’t get out....
I’ve been caught in someone’s trap. And I can’t get out.
Panic goes to my head and it makes me act rash. Grabbing a bust that’s standing in a corner, I lift it over my head and throw it with all my force at one of the windows. The bust shatters but the window does not.
It seems to be bullet proof. Tears prickle my eyes and I start shaking.
What do I do now? How do I get out? I don’t know how to get out!
My knees wobble and I feel sick to my stomach. There has to be a way out. There’s always a way to escape, at least in movies there is. Maybe I somehow can climb out on the roof and then scream for help. Or maybe there’s a basement and maybe the basement has a window that can be opened...
Racing down the hallway toward a door at the end of it, I stop when something hooks in my periphery. Something dark and eerily still.
I freeze. Did I just see something in the corner of my eye? A figure?
The shaking in my body increases and I wonder why I haven’t been attacked yet. What is my captor waiting for? Is he playing a game? Does he think this is a game? Does he think it’s fun to kidnap innocent women? Anger flares in me, taking away some of the worst fear and I walk over to the room and I step into a kitchen.
A homey one. A normal one. And a man is sitting at the table, having breakfast like any other normal man.
My jaw slacks at the sight of him, my body feeling like its floating. He doesn’t look the way I expected my captor to look. I expected him to be wearing a balaclava at least but instead he is alluringly...majestic.
Dark hair, slight stubble and he’s bare chested, his muscles tanned and rippling and he seems to be only a few years older than me. He’s reading the morning newspaper and casually smoking a cigar, acting like this is a morning like any other. Like he has kidnapped women in his house every day.
He lifts his head and I gasp. His metallic eyes zone in on me and I stop breathing.Wolf eyes. Wild, deserted and frosty eyes. They crawl under my skin, finding all the secretive pathways that are closed off to other people. But he finds them, charges past them and I stop him just in time before he manages to reach my heart.
It unnerves me, makes my fingertips tremble. How did he do that? How did he with one grey look make me feel like we somehow are connected?
