Kidnapped

Disoriented

One day, while I was six years old, my mother told me about my father. I had come from school, crying after my father failed to show up for the second grade father's day special party. All the other kids had fathers who showed up, fathers who bought pastries for the class, fathers who sat and played with them. I sat in the corner and stared at the wall. Our teacher, Ms. Lyle, took pity on me and gave me cupcakes. Even at a young age, I understood that what most saw as kindness was actually pity in Ms. Lyle's eyes. Pity that a kid like me could actually exist. I didn't understand that I was in her head at that time.
I didn't eat the cupcakes, refused even, and waited until my mom could pick me up from school. Jeremy Clarkson came to sit with me until she arrived. We never said anything to each other when my mom finally came. He ran off with his dad and I left with my mom. At home mom took notice of how quiet I was and the tears streaked down my face. She pulled me into her lap and asked what's wrong. I let it out, complaining about how unfair it was to never having a father in attendance for important school things; how I was always looked down on; how he was never around; how she was always taking care of everything.
Mom got this sad look in her eyes then.
She didn't ask if kids were making fun of me, but she had this look of understanding. For a few long minutes, I lay back against her and she ran her fingers through my hair. Then she began the story.
I listened, but I didn't fully get the meaning of it. Although I did understand that my father was different from other fathers. My mom didn't have to say it. I found out pretty soon.

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There is a smell, earthy and metallic at the same time, mixing and sharp. I don't like it, and my stomach growled its agreement. I tried to open my eyes, but the pounding in my head stopped me. I was trying to focus on taking away the pain and getting up for school. This wasn't the first time I woke up with a headache, but it was the first time I was smelling something so strong, so earthy, and so metallic all at the same time.
Probably construction work.
But that didn't make any sense. It just doesn't.
"Don't move her!" A female voice hissed.
Mom?
Why is my mother--?
I felt myself fall, then, and the air escaped from my lungs. I snapped my eyes open, fearing that I was falling off my bed. The headache hit me so hard that I almost missed the dark green curtain that sailed past me. I forced myself to stop mid-air. I must've fallen off my bed, I told myself. But it didn't really sit well with my consciousness.
"Shit!" A new voice hissed. There were a few things I noticed at first. I tried to move, but my body wouldn't corporate. I was staring up at a overcast sky. My mother didn't swear. And I was surrounded by strangers.
Also, I wasn't floating like I thought I was. Instead strong arms held me up. I felt them constrict under me. The word danger flashed into my head.
I let my first instinct play out: I fought through the molasses feeling in my body and kicked my left leg at the place where I thought the person's face would. There was a grunt as the person's grip let loose. The strangers surrounding me were on alert quicker than I thought they would be. The person-- a guy, I realized-- fell back and hit the ground.
I faced my abductors, trying to understand what was happening. Their faces  blurred together and the sickening earthy, metallic smell was back. I fought against the pounding headache, realizing that I was full on surrounded. From every direction.
One of the figures in front of me stepped up. Through the blur, I saw a white shape closing in on me. I pushed my hand out, letting them blaze. "Stop!"
The figure stopped and the others took a step forward in their stance.
"G, its me," the figure cooed. "Calm down."
A flowery fragrance wafted toward. "Mena?" But why was my heart sinking? Mena is my friend. One of the two friends I'd made. Why is her perfume and voice churning my stomach?
A footstep pulled my attention to the left. A darker figure moved in. I raised my hand in warning. "Who are you?"
"Stop," Mena commanded and the figure paused.
Keeping my guard up on my left, I turned my attention back on Mena. A bird's high whistle made the strangers ansty, and they whispered among themselves. "Where are we, Mena?" I addressed her. "Why are we in the forest? And why can't I see?" Mena sighed, something that I've watched her do for the past few weeks.
The pressing earthy, metallic smell was getting stronger now.
"And what is that smell?"
In that moment, the haze finally cleared out of my vision. Mena gasped as my eyes met her blue ones. My head pounded louder, to the point of tears coming out of my eyes. Where is the pain coming from? I reached my hand out, waiting for my mother's comfort. Where is she?
"I told you to tie her up!" The pissed off voice was the last thing I heard before the darkness claimed me again.

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Lander's POV
We all watched as she dropped to the ground, and not for the first time. Mena glared at me from across her body.
"Can you please stop with that?!" She screamed and dropped down next to Miss Annoying.
I rolled my eyes and dropped the cloth. "Well she's not dead, is she?" There were things I had to take care of and I wasn't really in the mood to deal with the body and my sister's idiotic need to protect our enemy. "Get back to your stations, and Justin?" I turned to where he was standing, looking embarrassed. And he certainly had good reason to be. "Next time don't touch the Freak. If she wakes up again, you're taking her out." Justin nodded once and went to his station.
Mena gasped. "You're not taking her out!"
I raised an eyebrow at my sister. "Are you willing to take her out?" She frowned and I moved toward the black bag at the base of the grand tree. I pulled out the restraints and moved back to the body. "If you are, you can just—"
"I am not killing my best friend!" Mena hissed, staring at me. I had secured her "best friend's" hands behind her back and her legs together. Mena glared at me like I was cutting her limbs off, instead of binding them.
"— be her guard." I ignored her interruption, staring down at the girl. "If someone wakes her up, that's your fault. Take care of it or I will."
Without waiting for her to reply, I turned around and walked away.
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Geneva's POV
Things were dark and blurry this time when I open my eyes. The never-ending headache was present again, but that's not what annoyed me. I tried to move my head to the side to relief the ache slightly and found that I couldn't even move.
My hands and feet were tied together, my throat was dry and I was confused for a few seconds.
Flowery perfume wafted up toward me suddenly. Mena.
"Mena?" I called out, but it didn't sound loud enough. "Mena."
"Huh?" There was a noise as she settled down next to me. I still couldn't see her. Trying to look in the direction of her perfume was easier. "Are you awake, G?"
I nodded my head. "Why can't I see again? I have a headache too."
Mena's voice made it sound like was  cringing. "I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry about everything."
I frowned. "What do you mean? Why can't I move my hands? Mena what's going on?"
"We had to take you."