Like a rock thumping over on its side when kicked. More confusion rioting in my head.įix what? For whom? Does this mean they’re not going to kill me? Because I would really like not to be killed today. Who said I could fix something? Fix what? Where? My brain races, but it’s more sluggish than normal, given the fact it’s weighted down with a billion tons of dread and the urge to shrink and run. “You said she could fix it!” Another voice, this one higher pitched, breaks through the Proclaimers’ voices before the song picks up intensity again, drowning them out. He sounds furious-and powerful.įear unleashes a cold sweat over my skin. “You did what?” a man bellows loud enough to suck the breath out of my lungs. The song’s volume dips for some more chanting about all the things the Proclaimers would do for the woman they loved, and that’s when I hear the roar. I’m not a shrinking violet, but neither of the two women’s self-defense seminars I’ve attended for charity covered what to do when you wake up rolled in a rug after being kidnapped by someone who has probably made repeated death threats against you.
I’ve lived in Manhattan my whole life and survived three mugging attempts. Something knocks into my side, and thankfully, the rug blunts the impact. I try to listen, but I can’t make out the words over the music, until. What was that? A door shutting? Are those footsteps? This can’t be happening.Īs the Proclaimers wail in my ears, vibrations shiver across my skin. My stomach plummets as reality crashes through my confusion. I flex my hands with my heart thundering, and my fingertips brush against what feels like. That’s right, because I never take stuff like that seriously. I should have listened to Ryan and Christine. Even as I try to deny it, my inner voice pops into my head, contradicting everything I want to believe. In that precious beat of silence, puzzle pieces snap together, and the blood chugging through my body slows like icy water in a nearly frozen river. The Proclaimers go quiet for a moment before the song starts again. So, why the hell can’t I move? I wiggle, but something that feels like carpet nap rubs against my bare arms. Plus, if I’d been taking a nap, the sound of the Proclaimers’ “500 Miles” wouldn’t be blasting in my earbuds. Why can’t I move? Fear creeps down my spine because I’m 99.99% sure I didn’t fall asleep. Maybe even a glow coming from above my head? There’s some gray mixed with the pitch black.
When my eyes flick open, darkness greets me.
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