STALKED AND STOLEN

Chapter 7

“Turn around.” He twisted my arm and I yelped like a dog, before he spun me so my back was to him, and his gun pressed against my back. “I’m taking my mask off. If you look at me this will be over for all of us, including you. OK?”

I nodded again. He slipped his mask off and I deliberately didn’t look at him. I looked down at the carpet and my bright pink shoes. He pressed something and I heard a beep, then the side door of the van slid along. He kept his pistol pressed against my back and we both jumped out onto grass and dirt. The sun beamed warmth on my face, but the chilly winter air nipped at my bare arms.

I was careful to keep my eyes mid level or lower. I saw a large building to my left made up red bricks. When we walked a little further, I realised we had been parked behind a petrol station. There were no other cars, though. The ground was made up of yellow stones and mud, and only two pumps sat in the middle of the court yard. With my head still tilted down I looked to the glass windows of the shop and saw a man sitting reading his paper. He looked too old and frail to help me even if I wanted him to. He lifted up his hand to give us a wave, and then went back to his paper.

We reached the large wooden door to the toilet block and I looked away as he leaned forward to push open the door inwards. The smell of urine and damp hit me like a slap on the face, and my body leaned backwards. Almost in a subconscious move to protect me from it.

“Hurry up. You’ve got two minutes.” He pushed the pistol further into my back and I reluctantly entered and immediately I felt dirty and had the urge to shower. He slammed the door shut behind me and it was like my breathing started up again. Adrenaline began to pump through my body. I pant like a dog, my eyes scanning up the dirty, grimy tiles for a window to escape through, but there were none. I wondered if that was how it smelt so bad. A little toilet sat in the corner, next to a small hand basin. Most of the walls covered in colourful graffiti, and at least an inch of clumpy dirt around the skirting boards of the room.

“Don’t dare lock that door, either!” I heard his muffled voice through the door.

I paced the room backwards and forwards. I rubbed my eyes and pulled my hair put of my face. Tears had automatically formed and I felt sick. Now that I had a moment to myself, panic consumed me.

I thought back to when I thought I’d die with anxiety. It was during one of mum’s fundraisers. We’d travelled to Ireland to present them with one of those giant checks which had a large number scribbled on and mum’s and dad’s signature. I remembered looking out the window of an office where hundreds of people gathered around. At the front people from the local newspaper stood with cameras, waiting for us to go out and smile for our picture taken.

Mum was used to it. She did it often. She used to tell Sam and I that we should always think of others who are less fortunate than ourselves. We should always spread awareness, and give what we could. But mum was beautiful and spoke with so much elegance and grace. When she stepped in front of a camera it was like she was born to do it. Her voice was melodic and sweet. Her words flowed smoothly like cream.

I was like a fumbling mess. I had a small frame, just like she did. But that’s all of my mother’s beauty and grace that I’d inherited. I’d spent so long cooped up with the same people that, as a child, crowds made me nervous.

Mum would kneel down to my level and her bright red lips would smile at me softly. She’d tilt her head and tell me how beautiful I was, and how I shouldn’t let anxiety ruin moments that I would remember for the rest of my life.

“Hold your hands into a fist,” She’d said. “And squeeze as tight as you can.” She held my fist in hers and pulled a face like she was squeezing with all the strength her little body had. “When you feel like this, ground your self with something that brings you back into the moment. Remember it’s just your brain trying to protect you.” She stroked my hair and kissed me on the forehead.

I clenched my fists at my waist so tight my short fingernails dug into my palms. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, silently praying for a miracle. I had to pull myself together. I blew out a breath and laid toilet paper on the seat so my skin didn’t connect with somebody else’s splash back. I didn’t even sit, my bum hovered just above the toilet as I emptied my bladder, and what a relief it was.

I made my way over to the sink and ran my hands under the cold running water. Like mum had taught me, it grounded me and brought me back to this very moment.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Pounding from the door made me physically jump.

“Hurry up. Dammit,” he said.

I stood up and looked at myself in the remaining pieces of glass that used to be a square mirror. I had eye bags the size of tea bags. My eyes were red, puffy and bloodshot. I splashed some cold water on my face and took a breath so deep my lungs burned.

I opened the door slowly, trying carefully not to touch the handle with my bare hands. I could only imagine the millions of germs that harboured there. I saw that Jay had a hoody pulled up over his head, disguising himself underneath. In this weather we would have just looked like an ordinary couple linked onto each other.

I kept my eyes down, silently pleading with the guy in the shop to notice that something wasn’t right, if he could see over the rim of his glasses. Maybe he’d see the gun. Or how scared I looked. Or how it didn’t seem right that Jay was keeping warm under a hoody while I wore a tank top.

I climbed back into the side of the van and Jay pushed me back into my corner. I kept my head down while he slid the mask back over his face and tucked his pistol back into a holster at his waist. He slammed the door and I heard the beep again.

The engine started up with a roar, and my body leaned back as we moved off. I pulled the blue fleece up over me, to my shoulders, and watched the clouds in the sky pass like thoughts. Blue eyes drove, while Jay spent the next few hours swapping between leaning on the front seat, sitting in the passenger seat, and pacing back and forth in the back of the van next to me. I noticed he had a stammer when he spoke.

“Hey, you should  feed her,” Blue eyes said. Referring to me like I was some sort of pet. He glanced back at me from behind the wheel and I cowered under my blanket.

Jay walked over to the blue box, opened it, and pulled something out. He walked over to me and dropped a small bar of chocolate onto my lap. I stared at it for a moment and my mouth watered. My tummy grumbled. I was hungry, I just didn’t know it until I saw food. Not making any sudden movements, u carefully opened the chocolate bar and put the wrapper into the bin. I snapped off small pieces and sucked, letting it melt on my tongue.

When night rolled around again, the van stopped, and blue eyes pulled the shutters down. He stayed in the front, for what I guessed was to sleep. While Jay stayed in the back with me. He barely looked at me, it was like I wasn’t even there. He smoked, and he drunk a bottle of coke, while watching the little TV.

I was glad, in a way, that I seemed to be invisible to him, but I wanted food and water so badly. I was so hungry I felt a little faint. My head bobbed as I began to fall asleep sitting up, then the sound of a phone ringing brought me back to reality and I sat up straight.

Jay held a small black flip phone in his palm, and stared at it. He jumped up to his feet and walked to the front of the van, wanting to be out of earshot of me.

“I’m fine, everything is fine. He done what? I missed it... If all goes to plan I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he said. I had no idea what he was talking about, or who he was talking to. He ended the call by flipping the phone closed, and turned to look at me. I immediately looked away. I just wanted to scream and run as fast as my little legs would carry me.

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So, I think this chapter was more of a filler chapter. I'm uploading as I write, so they may not be in the best shape! I hope you enjoy anyway :)

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