Kidnapped

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"Ah, good you're awake." A voice floated to me through the dark. I struggled to open my eyes.

"Well, if that's what you want to call it." My voice was soft, my throat scratchy. I thought back to what had happened. I'd been packing stuff into my car and then, something. It was there, just around the edge of my memory. I tried to rub my eyes, but my arms wouldn't move.

"Ms. Daniels, I'm going to make myself very clear. You have information I want. Now we can do it the easy way, you answer my questions and I'll kill you quick or we can do it the hard way, I torture the information out of you." I still couldn't see the speaker, my eyelids felt glued to my cheeks.

"That's really lame. You should have rehearsed it before saying it." I muttered. My throat was starting to feel better. The heavy scratchy feeling was retreating. I really needed a drink. "May I have a drink of water?"

"Excuse me?"

"That's a really cheesy way to put it. You could have said something more original like 'tell me what I want to know or I'll slowly cut away chunks of your hair.' I don't know, just something more original." It was stupid to argue with him, but I couldn't really do anything else at the moment. "Water?"

"I don't think you are in a position to make jokes, Ms. Daniels." He was at least nice enough to put something to my lips. I drank it down. It was warm and definitely water. I hated water; it had a funny metallic taste to it.

"And haven't you ever heard torture isn't a very good way to get information." I continued after he'd pulled the glass away. "Under torture, you can get people to confess to just about anything; the information is usually whatever the torturer wants to hear. It's much more effective to schmooze a person, kiss a bit of behind, be their friend."

"Ms. Daniels, you are about to have the worst day of your life, maybe you should take it more seriously."

"Actually, the worst day of my life was June 20, 1999. I don't think torture and death can top even that day." I briefly wondered if I was dreaming as the words drifted from me. "See, that day, my first serious boyfriend dumped me, then I went to my best friend's house for comfort, but I was speeding and got pulled over. The ticket was almost $300! Anyway, I get there, she wasn't there, so I let myself in to wait for her, and some idiot neighbor thinks I broke in. The same officer that wrote the ticket, responded to the breaking and entering call. We had to track down my friend and wait for her to show up before someone would believe that I had permission to be there. We went out for lunch, because food is comforting, a little Italian place with some of the best ravioli in the world. I got food poisoning and now, I can't even smell pasta without feeling a little ill. On my way home, I pulled over to throw up and some idiot smashes into my car while I'm yakking in the grassy ditch. When I finally get home, my parents think I've been drinking and ground me for two weeks. Then as I'm walking up the stairs to my bedroom I lose my balance, fall all the way to the bottom, break my arm and dislocate my knee. If that wasn't bad enough already, it was my 18th birthday. I was leaving for college in two months, it should have been a really happy day, but no. Oh no, I can't have good birthdays. I haven't had a good..."

"Shut up! Do you always ramble when you're scared?"

"I'm not scared, I'm not even nervous at this point. I figure if you torture and kill me, my friends will have a nice big wake for me, and it still won't have been the worst day of my life. Besides, if you kill me I can come back and haunt you. That could be fun."

"My God!" He mumbled.

"What can I say, I'm an optimist." I tried to shrug and couldn't. "My dogs will probably miss me. But I can come visit them as a ghost."

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