Kidnapped

Chapter 17 - Exposed

As I lay curled on the cold, unforgiving mattress, their voices drift through the partially closed door, low and dark, like a storm gathering just outside.

“I’m impressed. That’s one good-looking girl,” the brother’s voice murmurs, a hint of dark amusement woven through his words. “You gonna let me have her for the night?”

My heart plummets, and instinctively, I hold my breath, muscles tensing as if bracing for an impact. No. No, please, I think, clenching my eyes shut, praying silently that my captor will deny him, that he’ll keep me safe from this new nightmare.

But instead, I hear a laugh—a twisted, smug sound that makes my stomach lurch. “Hell yeah, man,” he says, a wicked grin evident in his voice. “She’s a wild ride, you won’t believe it.”

A wave of cold, unbridled terror washes over me, crashing through any last shred of hope. My body starts to tremble uncontrollably, my breath catching in my throat as I curl tighter into myself, pressing my legs together as if that might protect me from the reality closing in. The flickering candlelight on the windowsill casts eerie shadows, making the room feel like it’s moving, alive, each shadow a haunting reminder that this is real—that this isn’t some twisted nightmare I’ll wake from.

The door creaks slightly as the brother nudges it closed, letting the latch click softly into place. Their footsteps retreat down the hall, voices fading, shifting into casual small talk as if I’m nothing more than a prize to be shared, an object to be passed back and forth.

As their voices fade, desperation surges up within me, clawing at my insides. I can’t just lay here and wait. Not for this. I start to squirm, inching toward the edge of the mattress, my wrists raw and slick with blood from earlier struggles, the rope around my ankles biting into my skin. Gritting my teeth, I tug and twist, but the knots are tight, unyielding, digging deeper into the bruised flesh. My heart races faster, each beat a ticking clock as I glance frantically around the room, looking for any way out.

In my frantic struggle, I try to lift myself, to get some leverage—but my bound feet betray me, and with a dull thud, I tumble off the mattress and hit the floor, the impact jarring a muffled cry from my throat. The rough wooden planks are cold and unforgiving against my cheek, smelling faintly of dust and mildew. I try to push myself up, but the weight of despair settles heavily on me, pressing me down, and I feel hot tears spill over, my body wracked with silent sobs.

Every ounce of fight drains from me, leaving me crumpled and helpless on the floor, my cheek pressed to the splintered wood, tears soaking into the dust. The silence presses in around me, suffocating, as I lay there, utterly defeated, waiting for whatever horror is to come.

It doesn’t take long before I hear footsteps outside the door. The handle turns, and the brother strides in, glancing back over his shoulder as he yells down the hall to my captor. “Just give a holler if you need anything. There’s a pack of smokes on the kitchen table—help yourself,” he calls out, his tone casual, almost as if this were some friendly visit.

A muffled response drifts back, though I can’t make out the words, and then the brother chuckles, throwing one last remark over his shoulder. “No problem. Thanks for the housewarming gift.”

My stomach clenches, dread filling every inch of me. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to breathe steadily, to keep from fainting as my pulse hammers in my ears. My entire body trembles, not just from the chill in the air but from the suffocating terror twisting through me, sinking its claws deep into my skin.

With a heavy click, he shuts the door, the sound filling the small room with finality. I hear the metallic scrape of the lock sliding into place, and when he turns back to me, I feel the weight of his gaze, like cold hands tracing over me, sizing me up in the flickering candlelight.