Those 7 years: Missing One Shot Chapter

2

The cold metal of the chair pressed into my back, the ropes biting into my skin as I sat in complete darkness. My mind raced, trying to catch up with what was happening, but everything felt unreal. I was Taylor Swift, for God's sake. I'd been in stadiums filled with thousands of fans chanting my name, yet here I was, powerless and terrified.

My hands still throbbed from the rough handling, the ropes too tight around my wrists, but that pain was a distant ache compared to the fear consuming me. The blindfold over my eyes was suffocating, and every sound made my heart race faster. I could hear voices in the distance—low, muffled, and indistinct—just out of earshot. My body was tense, every muscle coiled with anticipation of what was coming next.

I didn't know how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? My thoughts spiraled as I tried to focus on something, anything, other than the raw panic that threatened to consume me. I could still see Travis in my mind, his smile, the way he kissed me before I left. He would be looking for me by now, wouldn't he? He always worried if I was out too late.

But how could he find me? I hadn't even been gone that long, and no one knew where I was. My phone was probably left behind in the van, or smashed, for all I knew.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. The shuffle of footsteps echoed through the room, growing louder, closer. My pulse quickened, my breath hitching as I heard them approach. The air felt heavy, thick with danger, and I couldn't see a damn thing.

A hand grabbed my arm, yanking me forward. I gasped, the sudden movement making my heart race. My muscles screamed in protest as they adjusted me roughly in the chair.

"We've got a nice little prize here," one of them sneered, his voice close to my ear. It was cold, detached, like this was just a game to him. My skin crawled at the sound.

Another voice joined in, this one rougher, more direct. "Look at this," he said, and I felt a hand grab my left wrist. My breath caught in my throat. He was holding my hand, twisting my wrist as if inspecting me.

And then I felt it. His fingers brushing against my wedding ring.

"No," I whispered, my voice hoarse and strained. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. They were going to take it. Travis's ring. The one thing that tethered me to him in this nightmare.

The man chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. "What's this? A little token from the rich husband?"

I tried to pull my hand away, but it was no use. The ropes held me in place, and his grip was too strong. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths coming faster as I felt him tug at the ring.

"Don't," I choked out, my voice shaking. "Please don't."

But they didn't care. He laughed, a low, mocking sound, as his fingers worked the ring over my knuckle. The metal scraped against my skin, my heart shattering with every twist of his hand. I could feel the cold air on my bare finger as the ring slipped off.

And just like that, it was gone.

The room spun, and a sob caught in my throat. That ring—it was more than just a piece of jewelry. It was a symbol of everything I had with Travis. Three years of love, laughter, and promises. And now, they had ripped it away from me, leaving me feeling exposed, broken.

"Look at this shiny little thing," the man taunted, holding the ring up like it was a trophy. I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Bet this cost a pretty penny."

I squeezed my eyes shut beneath the blindfold, willing myself to stay strong, but it felt impossible. That ring was everything. It was the promise Travis made to me on our wedding day, the life we had built together. And now, these monsters were treating it like it was nothing more than a trinket to be pawned off.

"You're not going to need this where you're going," the rough voice said, and I could hear the smile in his words. "No more rich, pampered life for you, princess."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight back, to make them see that I was more than what they thought I was. But the blindfold, the ropes, the darkness—it all made me feel so powerless. My mind screamed at me to do something, anything, but my body refused to move.

They didn't stop. I felt hands rifling through my pockets, pulling out my wallet, my phone—everything that tied me to the life I had before this. I was being stripped of everything that made me *me*, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the fear and the cold.

I heard the sound of my phone clattering against the ground, and then a foot stomped down on it, hard. The crack of the glass shattering echoed in the room. My last connection to the outside world was gone.

I couldn't stop the tears that welled up, my chest tightening with the weight of it all. I was trapped, and they were taking everything from me. My mind kept racing back to Travis. He'd be beside himself with worry. He'd probably already called me a dozen times, wondering why I hadn't come home yet. He always did that—checked in to make sure I was okay.

But now, there was nothing. No way to let him know I was alive. No way to reach out.

The door creaked open again, and the footsteps shifted. I could feel their eyes on me, watching, judging. The way they spoke about me, their low laughter, their mocking tones—it made my skin crawl. I wasn't a person to them. I was just... an object. A tool to get something they wanted.

"How long do you think it'll take before your rich husband pays up, huh?" one of them said, his voice dripping with malice.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat felt tight, my voice lost somewhere between the fear and the anger boiling inside me. They didn't know Travis. They didn't know that he would burn the world down to find me.

Another man spoke up, his voice more businesslike. "We've got her, let's get her to the drop-off. The boss'll want to make the call soon."

Drop-off? Call? My mind spun, trying to make sense of it all. They weren't just holding me for fun. This was planned. They wanted something—money, ransom, maybe even revenge. But who would want to hurt us like this? Travis didn't have enemies. Sure, we had our share of fame and attention, but nothing like this.

I bit down on the gag, trying to hold back another sob. I couldn't let them see how broken I felt. I had to be strong, for Travis. For myself.

The men moved around me, their hands rough as they dragged me up from the chair. My legs felt weak, barely able to support me after sitting bound for so long. They shoved me forward, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before they yanked me again.

"Move," one of them barked, and I felt a sharp pain in my side as he pushed me harder.

I had no choice but to comply, my feet shuffling awkwardly beneath me as they guided me toward God knows where. The blindfold stayed on, keeping me in darkness as they led me out of the building. I could hear the sounds of the city outside—distant traffic, the hum of life continuing as if nothing had happened. As if my world wasn't falling apart.

I couldn't see the stars, but I knew they were up there, somewhere. And I wondered if Travis was looking at them too, thinking of me, wondering where I was.

And in that moment, I promised myself one thing: I would survive this. I didn't know how, I didn't know when, but I *would* make it back to him.

I had to.