𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

75. kitty hawk is a terrible name.

S E V E N T Y - F I V E
kitty hawk is a terrible name.

I sit in the back seat, not letting my mind think.

Twelve hours ago, life had a perfect moment, a blissful break in the waves. Now I've been hit with a tsunami. I've been abducted—technically, legally, so not really abduction—again. This time, no one knows where I am. Well, not anyone who is currently able to speak.

Eventually, my mum will know, seeing as she is my legal guardian. But by that time, everyone will have left on the rescue mission.

Months of build-up, and I don't get to see the finale. I put my ass on the line time and time again, all to miss the payoff.

I can't stop JJ from doing something that'll kill him. I can't help the friend that's become a brother help find his Dad, who is nothing close to a father figure. I can't be there.

We roll up to a gate, a man in the same green uniform stands in front of a sign displaying the name 'Kitty Hawk', he holds his hands up for us to stop. Walking up to us, the man driving rolls down the window. "I have Francesca Marcus," He informs the guard.

"Go ahead," he waves us through.

Kitty Hawk is an awful name. If I ever meet the cunt that thought abducting girls was appropriate, I'll tell them about their poor naming skills. It sounds like it was made in a random name generator or an Instagram slideshow for your Adventure Time name.

Driving past the gate, I look around. Girls are doing manual labour, gardening, but not fun gardening, pulling up trees and moving mounds of dirt. They all look like they want a bullet to the brain.

It's not a massive place, it's just in the middle of nowhere. Tucked into a forest, there seem to be a dozen buildings max. All new, sleek, and fancy. This place probably costs an arm and a leg to attend.

The car stops, and one of the men opens the door for me, the one with the husband, the one I kind of called a nonce. To be fair, he has a questionable career choice.

I get out the car and look around.

If this place weren't what it is, it would be nice. A little resort. A beach getaway.

Following the lead of the other man, I notice a girl pushing a mower up a hill. I will mow their neck if someone tells me to do that. Actually, I'll mow their neck, then my own. I wouldn't do well in prison.

I walk down a boardwalk, as I drag my feet in one direction, a group of girls in a single file walk the other way. They give me the dirtiest of looks.

What happened to girl power?

I get to the end, and a well-kept woman with not a hair out of place meets us. "Francesca, it's a pleasure to meet you," She greets, giving me a smile that holds no kindness, it's devoid of any warmth. The woman is lacking a Goddamn soul. You'd have to, running a place like this.

"Kitty Hawk is a shit name," I spit. "And stealing kids is frowned upon by most societies."

"Thank you for your opinion, let's walk to my office and we can further discuss," She brushes off my insult. She probably gets a lot of them. This isn't a place any girl chooses to go. She gestures for me to walk with her, but I stand still. One of the men pushes my back and, with a scoff, I begin walking down the boardwalk.

She opens the door to the office, and I walk in first. She closes the door behind us.

Just like how the woman lacks a soul, this room lacks a personality. Everything is beige and lacklustre.

The woman grabs a green uniform off the desk and hands it to me. "There is a bathroom right there," she points to the side of the room.

I snatch it from her hands and walk inside, taking off my clothes, I put on the new ones. My wound is on full display with the short sleeves; it seems to have cracked open a little in the struggle. The uniform consists of a pale green shirt with the Kitty Hawk logo across the front, and some dark green shorts with a small logo sitting on top of a pocket. I look at myself in the mirror.