M.I.A.

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine:

Mia

Coming awake is like crawling out of a black hole. The light hurts my eyes. So much so that it gives me an instant splitting headache that crawls down into my intestines and makes me want to both vomit and pass out at the same time. Groaning, I roll onto my side, but something stops me, tugging at my hand. I yank back at it but it doesn't move. Confused, I try to sit up, but my other arm and legs are bound as well.

I'm trapped.

I blink around. Yellowing floral wallpaper hanging from plaster walls, hardwood floor covered in dark stains, off-white ceiling spattered with deep brownish flecks. There's a big window framed by faded blue gingham curtains across from me. There are two closed doors painted with cracked white paint. There's a bed stand and one of those hospital tables that go over a bed. I'm not in a hospital, but I am in a bed. Bound to a bed.

A twisted gasp escapes my throat.

Adrenaline pounds through my veins, making me forget the headache and doubling the sick feeling with a bout of panic. I suddenly remember last night. Was it last night? How long have I been here? And where is here?

I rattle at my chains, trying to break free. All it does is break my skin and make me bleed. I flop my head back on the pillow, breathing hard.

My heart is hammering.

I can't breathe. I'm choking on my fear.

I want to scream for help, but I'm gagged. It's probably not smart anyway. That might bring my captor faster. And who knows what he'll do to me. Ohmygod, what if he's already done something to me?

I glance down the length of my body only to find, to my horror, that I've been changed out of my clothing. Ew! He took my clothes off! Urg, what if he touched me? What if he... I wriggle around, trying to feel if I've been violated or not. It doesn't feel like I've had sex, but that doesn't mean anything. My skin begins to crawl and I break out in a sick sweat, trying hard not to vomit at the prospect of that nappy old 49ers guy on top of me.

I kick my feet in disgust, rattling my chains again. I wrench at the cuffs, tearing until the bed starts to scrape across the floor and it feels like my hands are going to come off. But nothing gives, nothing breaks. Not even my skinny little wrists. I can't get free.

I gnaw at my gag, hating the wet, itchy thing. Everything is wet and itchy. It's hot. Especially now, after I've been thrashing and freaking out. The sun is right on me. I blink into it, seeking some promise of escape, but even the window is barred.

I'm captive. Imprisoned. Bound and pressed against the poking springs of this bed. I have no idea what he's going to do to me. I don't even know where I am. How long will it take for them to find my car on that little road? Even so, what's that going to tell them? Someone kidnapped me from the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. I don't know how far he has taken me since then.

They couldn't even do some kind of CSI thing where they track my phone because I left it sitting on the passenger seat. I'm going to be one of those missing people that they put on milk cartons and billboards.

No one is going to find me.

And this is how I'm going to be remembered.

And I won't have even lived a life worth bragging about.

And one day, they'll find my body and I'll be the inspiration for an episode of Bones.

A lone sob leaps into my throat, wracking my body. And then suddenly, I'm crying and whimpering, certain that this is it.