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Too strong for me to defend myself. Two of them against one of me. Terror turns my blood to ice while a hundred ugly, painful images race through my brain all at once.
“Stop fighting,” one of them growls over my muffled screams. “I said fucking stop.” I don’t even know which of them is speaking. I don’t know anything but fear. The hand over my mouth tightens, no matter how I claw at it. Instead of that, I punch the inside of his elbow to make his arm go weak long enough to twist my head and get my mouth free.
“What are you doing here?” It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious what they’re doing here. I’m about to scream again, but the one I punched covers my mouth again, and this time, his fingers press into my face hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“Stop, Frankie. You’re only going to hurt yourself.” The one holding my body still sits on the edge of the bed. He has a gun. They both do. They’re here to kill me. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Who sent you here? Why are you here?” I try to wiggle away because, honestly, what else am I going to do? Lie here and take it? How do they know my name?
They ignore me, looking at each other instead. They have to be brothers. They look too much alike to be anything else. And they’re having a silent conversation. Finally, it’s too much, and I start fighting again. I’m kicking and punching harder this time, and it’s almost enough to get me out of bed.
Until one of them grabs me by the waist. “Fine. This is how it’s going to have to be.” He throws me back onto the bed, my face pressed against the mattress while the other one leaves the bedroom. He’s back in what feels like seconds later, and I hear the sound of tape being ripped from a roll.
No matter how I struggle, they manage to tape my wrists together behind me. My ankles come next. Tears are running down my face when they roll me onto my back.
One of them reaches out for me, and I flinch away, but all he does is wipe a tear from my cheek with his thumb. If he hadn’t bound me thirty seconds ago, the gesture would almost be sweet.
“Please, don’t—” The rest of my plea is lost when a big piece of tape covers my mouth.
They’re arguing with each other, the two of them muttering in low voices. One of them walks out of the room while the other one carries me over his shoulder. “Don’t even think about kicking me,” he warns. “We’re not always nice guys. Don’t push us too far.” I get the feeling he’s telling the truth. But what are they doing to me? Where are we going? All I can do is mumble my questions behind the tape.
Before long, we’re outside in the cold. I’m placed into the back seat of a car that the other guy must have pulled up in front of my building so they wouldn’t have to carry me too far. Have they done this before? They must have since it seems like they have this down to a science.
Though I don’t think I was part of their plan. They’re too flustered and arguing with each other. The question is, if they didn’t come to kidnap me, what did they come here to do?
They mutter to each other almost nonstop as we roll away from my building and head down the street. What was it I heard once? If a victim is moved to another location, it’s pretty much guaranteed they’re going to die. That’s robberies, though. Does that count now? What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get my head together. If I’m panicking, I can’t get away.
They didn’t give me any room to wiggle my arms or legs. I remember seeing a video once, instructions on how to get out of duct tape. But my hands are behind me, so I can’t use that. What else do I know? Think, think, I have to think. Even if it seems pointless and useless because there are two of them and only one of me. They’re so much bigger and stronger.
And they have guns. I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before. Guess I can cross that off my bucket list.
There’s no reason to laugh right now, but one tries to work its way out of my chest anyway. The sound doesn’t get far, thanks to the tape over my mouth. My tears have seeped into it, enough that it’s starting to come loose at one corner. I rub my face against the seat and try to pull more of it back. If I can talk, maybe I can get through to them.
I know it’s pointless, but I have to do something. I’m not going to die without at least trying to save myself.
The tape’s maybe a quarter of the way loose when we come to a sudden stop, the driver hitting the brakes hard enough that I almost roll off the seat. For one second, I think maybe there’s a cop out there on the street, and we almost ran a light. Maybe that’s why. Maybe I can scream and get their attention.
No such luck. My heart sinks when both men open their doors and continue their tense conversation outside the car. Before I can calm my racing heart enough to hear what they’re saying, the back door near my feet opens, and a pair of hands close around my ankles, yanking me out of the car.
We’ve arrived.
All I manage to get a glimpse of is a house. A nice house, too, the kind of place I used to dream about living in when I was a kid. Before I knew better, back when I thought anything was possible. I turn my head as much as I can, trying to get a feel of the surroundings, but all I see are trees and more trees. We’re in the middle of nowhere.
They’ve brought me out to the middle of nowhere. Nobody will hear me screaming. Panic floods me again, fresh and new, and I can’t help but wiggle and thrash in the arms of the man carrying me.
“Knock it the fuck off.” It’s a growl, low and threatening. “You’re already more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Shut up, Evan,” the other one says. Evan, at least I know one of their names. The other guy opens the door, looking around like he wants to make sure we’re alone while his brother carries me into the house.
It’s nice inside, too. The living room is off the entry, and that’s where my kidnapper drops me, right onto a sectional sofa set up across from a widescreen TV mounted on the wall. I almost bounce onto the floor, he drops me so hard. “This is fucking ridiculous.” He glares down at me, and I notice a scar running down the left side of his face. It’s not big or even ugly, but it makes him look scarier than ever.
The way he looms over me isn’t helping things.
His brother joins him after flipping on a lamp. This one doesn’t have a scar, but he’s wearing the same hard, angry look. “We’re in it now,” he grunts. “No going back.”
I want to tell them they can go back. They absolutely can. All that comes out is muffled groans, though.
The one without the scar grimaces. “If you promise not to scream, I’ll take the tape off your mouth.”
