Taken

Splashed

Nick comes in the little door a couple of hours later.

"Hey." He mumbles.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" I didn't mean to sound so harsh, but he asked a stupid question.

I am the furthest thing from okay.

"I'm sorry." He scratches the back of his head.

Walking towards me, he twists his rough hands together in front of him.

Shuffles his feet forward and kneels in front of me.

"God. Shae, you have a cut."

He lightly touches my neck with his fingertips.

My stomach flutters.

It must have been from when Ron was pressing that switchblade to my throat.

A wave of residual fear goes through me.

Suddenly, Nick seems to have an idea.

He runs over to a small trunk in the corner of the garage and pulls out a washcloth.

Walks past me and the chair.

I can hear the sound of running water behind me, flowing into my ears.

He returns in front of me with a plastic bowl full of water and the washcloth.

And he sets them in my lap.

Going around to the back of my chair, I can feel him fumbling with the knot.

He untangles it quickly, and the ropes go slack around my body.

"Wait, are you sure you won't be caught?"

He shakes his head.

"Everyone went home. It was kinda an intense day for some of us."

"Sounds like ya'll got more than you bargained for when you kidnapped me."

"They. When they kidnapped you."

He helps me sit comfortably on the floor, and then gestures to the bowl.

"What, you mean, like, drink it?"

"No. This," he says, and dips the cloth into the bowl.

He brings the cloth to my neck and holds it against the shallow cut.

I stare at him, my eyes wide.

He looks up at me.

And awkwardly passes me the washcloth.

I do what he did a couple more times, and then place the rag back in the bowl.

"I'm all for staving off infection and everything, but I haven't had anything to drink in a day and a half." I give him a look.

Slowly standing up, I make my way to the tiny faucet at the far end of the garage.

I place my hand on the cold knob.

It turns with a rusty squeak.

Freezing water flows out of the tiny spout.

Sticking my mouth under the tap, I guzzle the water until I can't possibly drink anymore.

Remembering where I am, I slowly turn to face him, embarrassed at my manners.

Oh, screw manners.

I let the water run over my face and hands, soaking my hair and cleaning my fingernails.

I laugh, before I realize how ridiculous laughing is when a person is in the situation that I am in, before I realize that I could care less because the water feels amazing.

I don't want to turn the faucet off.

But I know I have to.

I walk back towards Nick, running my hands through my slick hair.

Squeezing out some of the excess water from the strands, I smile at him.

He smiles back.

But just as soon as it came, it fades.

He looks at me with worry.

"Shae, I'm really glad Ron didn't kill you. It was so crazy."

He sighs.

"The whole time, I was just like, like, in my head, No no no no no. Like, I know I'm part of a gang and all, but I've never seen someone be killed. And I didn't want to have you be the first victim."

"Nick."

"I'm serious."

"Nick. You say that, but look at me. In a few minutes, I'm going to need you to tie me up in that chair again, because the rest of your gang is going to be back. Nothing is changing! You don't know my parents. They are not going to do just whatever the heck Ron asks them to! They. Won't. Send. The. Money. And I'm going to die."

My voice cracks on the last word, because I know it's true.

He does what he has to without saying a word.

Just an anxious look on his face.