Fear

3 • The journey

Some hours later, I stirred from unconsciousness, groaning painfully as my vision cleared.

I was in a small, metal space-a container, it seemed. I wasn't in the bar, that was certain, even though I was badly hungover.
I couldn't remember what happened; a consequence of getting drunk.

A low rumbling noise surrounded me. I was moving, rocking slightly. It dawned on me that I was in a vehicle, likely on a motorway. A transit van.

And then I remembered him.

'Shit.'

I started to hyperventilate-I'd been kidnapped. I tried to scream, but my mouth was taped. I could only breathe through my nose. Panic set in as I thrashed around, crying and breathing heavily.

Both my wrists and ankles were bound by rope. A quiet voice cut through my panic.

"Oh, you're awake."

My head snapped in his direction. I hadn't heard this voice before. This was someone else.

A blonde-haired man with an unnerving grin perched on a stool in the corner of the van. He crawled up to me. I tried to shuffle away, but my back was against the wall.

He was young, about my age. He had a large burn scar on the left side of his face, more burns on his pale arms and legs, and cigarette burns on his wrists. The van stunk of tobacco, and a packet of cigarettes peeked out of his shorts pocket. Tattoos covered his arms, including a large flame on his right arm. He wore a loose black tank top, black shorts, and blue trainers.

"Calm down, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you."

His voice was almost feminine, soft but with an underlying menace. I didn't trust him.

I wriggled, trying to loosen the ropes. No use. I was trapped. I tried to scream, but it was muffled by the tape.

He let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes.
"I had a feeling you'd be a screamer. That's why I taped you."
He cracked a disturbing grin, then laughed-a high-pitched, child-like sound.

Tears pricked my eyes and began to dribble down my cheeks. To my surprise, he reached for something behind him. I panicked, but he pulled out a tissue and gently wiped my tears.

"Don't cry, baby. You don't look so pretty when you cry."
He frowned sympathetically.
"It's going to be a long ride. We're already late for the flight schedule."

I stared at him, eyes wide, breathing erratically. I tried to speak, but it was just a muffled "Mmmmm."

"I suggest you relax and make yourself comfortable. We aren't even out of England yet."

Relax? I couldn't relax! I'd been kidnapped, taken who knows where, far from my family, friends, and everything I'd ever known, my whole life.
I began to cry harder. The man just tutted.

"Hey, I haven't introduced myself, have I?"

I shook my head slightly as he crouched in front of me. He cleared his throat comically and pointed to himself.

"I'm Dylan. D-Y-L-A-N. Dylan Payne." He giggled and shook my tied hand awkwardly.

I mumbled behind the tape, encouraging him to take it off. He cocked his head and frowned.

"I'll take it off if you promise not to scream."
I nodded desperately. He leaned forward and ripped the tape off in one swift motion.
I exhaled, catching my breath. Then I scowled at him.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"Now, I can't tell you that, baby," he said, pointing a bony finger at me. "You'll just have to wait and see."

He made me so uncomfortable. I huffed and slouched back against the wall.

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That's all I remember from the van. I must have fallen asleep, but I do recall being on the plane at one point.

It was a private jet-of course it was. Tyler came through from the cockpit, looking different. He'd changed out of his club clothes into a black formal suit and tie.

Our eyes locked as he saw me slouched in one of the cream leather seats, still tied up. He gave me a short, unfriendly smile. He seemed to be in a mood.

"Hey, Boss!" Dylan jolted up from his seat opposite mine and saluted him jokingly. Tyler glared at him, forcing Dylan to cower back to his seat.

Tyler turned to me and stepped forward slightly. "We're due to arrive in a couple of hours. I realised you're probably hungry." He turned to Dylan and firmly instructed him to feed me.

I watched Tyler march back to the cockpit with his hands clasped behind his back. The front door closed behind him, and Dylan drew my attention.

He skipped to the back of the cabin, whistling. He seemed... unhinged.

"Why does he treat you like that?" I asked.
Dylan turned and scowled at me.
"Like what? That's just how he is. It's none of your business."

"Are you... insane?" I asked, but I wish I hadn't.

Dylan's happy expression faltered. He stopped dead in his tracks, glaring at me with dark eyes. I averted my gaze and gulped. "Sorry. Forget I asked."

I felt his hard glare on me for another five minutes, though I wasn't watching him. I guess it hurt him somehow.

But he still had to feed me. Begrudgingly, he rummaged through the cupboards and brought me a small selection of packaged foods, practically throwing them onto the table in front of me.

My eyes wandered over the food, but with my hands tied, I couldn't feed myself. I watched as Dylan threw himself back into his seat and crossed his arms in a huff.

"I said sorry... I didn't know you'd react like that," I murmured.

He ignored me.

"Tyler told you to feed me," I almost whispered.

"He told me to take myself out of the situation when I'm mad!" Dylan shouted back. "He also told me not to hurt you, because I definitely would if it weren't for him. But no, I have to obey the big Boss... or else I'll get punished..." He muttered the last part under his breath, but I heard it.

"He punishes you?"

"That's none of your business! And if you don't shut up, I'll tape your mouth again! Find a way to feed yourself, bitch."

Dylan refused to speak to me or even look at me for the rest of the flight. I didn't manage to eat anything.

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