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Kathleen
The room I’m in is dark, yet I can still see the men surrounding me.
I can taste blood in my mouth, but nothing feels as if it’s broken. The coppery flavor on my tongue makes me want to lean over and vomit. My eyes feel bleary, and the blow I took to the back of the head might surely have something to do with it.
These men stink of old socks and underarms that have never known deodorant. It’s no wonder they felt as if they had to kidnap a woman to get her to talk to them. There’s just no other way that someone would care to acknowledge them.
It’s obvious that no sane woman would come within five feet of these monsters.
These embarrassing little creatures aren’t men, but I won’t call them little boys because it would be an insult to my brother. The one from the last two times, the one I rejected, stares at me as if he’s never seen a woman up close before.
To be fair, he probably hasn’t. I can’t imagine one person who would like him.
“Why are you holding me hostage here? What do you want from me?” I ask him, though I think I already know the answer.
Immature boys getting rejected don’t normally take it very well. They usually take it out on and blame other people.
“Bitches like you are the reason good men can never find a girlfriend,” he spits, waving his gun around.
It’s embarrassing, and I feel it secondhand.
I want to laugh at his word vomit, but it’s common courtesy not to laugh at the person holding the gun, even if they do look as if they’ve just crawled out of the bad side of a garbage can. And he does lookthatdisgusting.
He looks as if he wouldn’t hesitate to eat something off of the ground if it looked good enough.
“Right,” I tell him, nodding even though it hurts my head.
We’re in the back room, where all of the replacement poles and the extra mats and outfits are kept. I’m zip-tied to a chair by the back wall, and my shoulders ache.
It’s been less than ten minutes since I walked stupidly to the back room to look for Chrissy and found myself taken hostage by a bunch of ugly frat boys.
“Good guys are always gonna finish last, am I right? That’s how women like you think about us, huh?” he says, pointing the gun and tapping his temple.
I’m most likely going to hell for hoping that it goes off on him. I do, though, hope that he accidentally shoots himself. The other guys around him don’t seem keen on keeping with this stupid kidnapping bullshit.
I know they would probably just leave if he accidentally took himself out. A girl can only dream, though.
“Yeah, women tend to like men who don’t hate women,” I tell him, shaking my head. Of course, these young men blame women for their misfortunes in life.
“Shut up, you bitch,” he snarls, spittle flying from his lips. “You know nothing.”
“They also don’t like being called bitches,” I can’t help but retort. “Just a thought.”
It’s so strange that now that I’m here in this terrifying situation, I don’t feel much fear. I know that my brother is safe, Eddie is out there, and I’m here. I’m the only one in danger, though it seems these gross men want to toy with him.
Suddenly, I can hear that sweet voice calling for me, and it sounds enraged.
Oh, Eddie is pissed off, that’s for sure. I would feel the same way if it was me that had to wait around to see whether or not his kidnappers were going to release him.
One of the men in the group, a small, chubby blonde kid, opens the door to peek outside. He leaves the door open, and my attacker stomps over, wild-eyed.
“Go to hell,” he yells as Eddie calls out for me in the vanity room of the club. “She’s mine now, and she’s gonna give me what I want, or I’ll kill you both. You made a stupid ass mistake coming between me and what’s mine. Fuck off.”
“Never gonna happen,” I hear myself whisper, but just as my attacker whips around to strike me, there’s a large crash outside, and it sounds like glass breaking with a roar.
Even though I’ve never heard the sound before, I know that Eddie made it.
The guy at the door falls out of it, tumbling into the vanity room.
