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Imogen Halstead (age 17)
Word Count: 2672
TW: violence, kidnapping.
Imogen's POV
"Dad?!" I yell from the top of the stairs. Silence follows for a few seconds before he appears before me, "what time will you get back again?" My red head dad looks up at me. Tonight he's going to see a Blackhawks game with my uncle jay, given that I'm the best daughter and niece ever who bought them both tickets for Christmas. He smiles, "no later than twelve, but I'll give you call when we're leaving" he zips his jacket up.
"Okay, well I hope you both have a good time! Love you!" I yell as I return to my room. He scoffs a laugh, "love you too, honey!" I hear the door close behind him. I sigh, looking around before my eyes fall on the clock. It's only 7:30pm, that means I have time to take a bubble bath and paint my nails with the pretty new nail varnish I bought today. Who doesn't love a good pamper on a Saturday night? I was supposed to be at work today but the owner had a family emergency, so we're closed until Monday.
I run the bath, adding in as many bubbles as my heart desires, before I jump in and relax. Being a girl is hard you know? Pfft. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic... but hey, I'm just a girl.
I relish in the free house, although I have double checked that the doors and windows are locked three times... my dad has only been gone an hour and a half.
Hopping onto my stool, I sit in front of my mirror with my sage green nail polish, tucking my legs up to get as comfy as possible. Before I can even open the bottle, my phone pings and I see my dads name dance across the screen. I see a picture of my dad and my uncle pulling a really ugly crying face with the losing points in the background. I laugh, sending him a quick sarcastic reply before I turn my attention back to my nails.
By the time it gets to 9:30pm, I've only managed to perfect one hand... but man am I thirsty and a little hungry. Trodding downstairs, I grab a glass of water and a pack of peanut butter pieces. Making sure the front door is locked for the millionth time, I head back upstairs, returning to my base camp to start my other hand.
~
I decide to add another layer to my nail varnish, now that my both of my hands are complete. Partly because I'm bored, partly because I just love the colour. Reaching over to grab the nail file again, I pause. My arm hairs stand up to a point as the noise of scratching grabs my attention. I remain completely still, looking around to try and locate the source. Somehow, I find myself with enough guts to stand at the top of the stairs... realising that the scratching is turning into banging, and then banging into a large thud...
My heart skips a beat as the sound of my front door crashes into whatever, the sound of voices quickly flooding into my home makes my blood run cold. Quietly closing my door, I run for my phone, hiding in the closet as I dial my dads number immediately. The sound of voices grows nearer until I see shadows outside of my closet door, "get her" I hear one man mutter before the closet door is ripped off it's hinges. I didn't think that was humanely possible... just as a man grabs my ankles, I clutch my phone...
Not even aware if my dad has answered yet, I still keep a tight hold on my phone. I thrash around like a fish out of water, ribbing the duvet off my bed as I try to run... knocking my vanity over, smashing my lamp over the man's head. His mask falls on the floor and I see a patch on blood on his head, smacking him with all my night I manage to smear some of his blood on my carpet... even if they kill me, the police will know who did it.
