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I look down to see him below me, arms wide open. “I’m going to count to three. One,” I let out a small sob; “two,” I close my eyes; “three.”
I let my arms release the branch, and I fall—
I force open my mouth and inhale stale air. My eyes flutter open and I lurch upward. My heart is thumping fiercely in my chest and beads of sweat cling to my forehead.
Disoriented, I survey my surroundings, confusion and terror crashing over me. The cement room is foreign; its contents are nothing but a drain. Shadows dance ominously on the gray walls, and I blink trying to clear the haze.
A symphony of my jagged inhalations and exhalations echoes along the four walls. My trembling hands float up and my muscles tense as I prod my tender neck. My mind frantically tries to make sense of the violent awakening; fragments of what happened linger similar to shards of shattered glass.
Glass.
The remnants of my pickle jar crashing to the ground send an unsettling sickness to my belly.
The air is heavy, fused with a musty scent of dampness that clings to the walls. My senses gradually sharpen, and fear tightens its icy grip with each passing second. A shiver courses through my body.
I survey the dimly lit room, searching for answers, but I’m only greeted with an oppressive silence that amplifies my unease. I lift my eyes to the ceiling, noticing two cameras in each corner. Another shiver racks my body.
My mind races, desperately seeking out an explanation. The heaviness of the unknown crushes my chest and fills my mind with endless possibilities, all of them leading to a single conclusion. I am a captive.
* * *
I fell backto sleep at some point because I wake again. My body must be fighting whatever I was injected with.
I notice a water bottle has been placed in the room and I roll to my side, knees tucked up as I stare at it. My parched mouth is begging for a sip, but I’m second-guessing if I should.
Could it be poison?
Unfortunately, my thirst intensifies and after a short back and forth with myself I decide it’s worth the risk.
I sit up, wincing at the pounding in my head laced with dizziness. Crawling over to the water bottle I snatch it up and yank the top off, dousing my mouth with the hydration.
When I’ve had the whole bottle, I take a moment to observe the door. It’s metal with a pin pad above the handle. A small, square glass window sits in the top center. I scoot back toward the wall and lean my back against the cold concrete.
Nothing makes sense; I was the only car in the parking lot at the gas station, and the only person was the gas attendant. I wonder if my mom has reported me missing.
I sit and play scenarios over and over in my head, trying to piece together where I am and who has taken me.What’s going to happen to me? A lot of good sitting here will do me.
I push to stand, using the wall to keep my balance. My feet are unsteady, but I reach for the door handle, jiggling it and meeting resistance.
Locked.
I turn my face toward the cameras. “Hello?”
I raise my voice, but not much more than a whisper comes out. I wait several seconds, staring at the door—nothing. For all I know they aren’t even here. Tears threaten to fall again, and I retreat back to the wall.
Four small beeps pierce the silence, and the door handle turns open. I jump back to find a blond, burly man who I’d call handsome if he wasn’t keeping me in a cement box. His eyes find mine, and he smirks.
“You’re awake. Good. Come with me.” His voice is gravelly, but calm and steady.
My eyes flit between the door and him several times before he sighs and moves toward me. I shuffle back and lift my hands.
“Please, please, what do you want?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he pulls out a black zip tie from his pocket and, grabbing both my wrists in his large hand, yanks me toward him.
Once my hands are secure and wildly uncomfortable, he grabs my elbow and ushers me out of the room. As soon as we exit, I try to memorize my surroundings. We turn left and follow more gray walls down a hallway. A set of stairs that are lit with small warm lights on the risers offer a flicker of warmth to the cold cement. He pulls me to another door with a keypad and enters a four-digit code.
Shoot.I didn’t see it.
