Kidnapped

Kidnapped - 1

It was past midnight when I locked the door to the local grocery store. The paved road, illuminated by the streetlights, was wet. The streets were quiet, with the exception of the few cars strolling by. Dreading going "home," I have been working overtime for the past couple of months. I sighed, knowing my foster parents would be waiting to take away the paycheck I got handed today. Apparently, abusing the Foster care system to get the money meant to care for me, wasn't enough. I rubbed my hands from the cold and wished I had gloves, then cringed as I thought of my appearance: too-short sleeves, worn-out shoes that pinched my toes, and a pair of faded jeans that had seen better days. Same as always, I thought as I recalled the chaotic, drug-addict person labeled as my "biological mother." 

I smiled to myself as I thought about how soon I will turn 18 and finally be able to leave the system and away from this lifestyle. I promised myself that I would do so much shopping as soon as I left.

I turned the corner, groaning as raindrops started falling, and wished I had a proper jacket to generate sufficient warmth. Great, even the sky is shitting on me. I sighed when the rain got a bit heavier, my clothes slowly starting to soak up. I walked quickly as I passed by a torn-down house, frequently occupied by homeless people or teenagers seeking a quiet place to smoke weed. I was just past the torn, sorry excuse of a house, whose owners most definitely had a hoarding problem when I heard a scream. I froze, turning my head towards the direction the cries came from. I scanned the entrance of an ally way ahead of me, knowing that if I wanted to get back "home," I needed to pass it.

"Please! I swear it wasn't me!" A raspy voice pleaded.

The sounds of footsteps and murmurs echoed, elevating my anxiety. Seems like there are several people there... But the sound of the rain made it difficult to be sure, and out of sheer stupidity, I took a step forward.

"You keep saying that, but we have intel that you were the one who had it last." A nonchalant male voice responded.

"No! No, I di-" The man with the raspy voice was cut short by the sound of something smacking against flesh. More cries, pleading words, and dry heaving followed.

I reached for my jeans pocket, looking for my phone. I needed to call the cops but hesitated as more voices spoke up.

"I should smash your mouth with this bat just for how pathetic you are right now." A third voice spoke up, his voice was laced with something close to a chuckle. My skin crawled when I heard the sound of the weapon of choice as it hit and crushed bones. A bat? A second later, sharp, frantic screeching of pains followed. I gasp as I fiddle with my phone and start backing away from the ally. Call the cops. Call the cops. Call the cops. Call the cops. Call th-.

"You look much better with your jaw hangin'," the same malice voice from before laughed. "Maybe losing your teeth will teach you a lesson about lying."

I felt my stomach turning as the sound of murmurs debated between taking the man or disposing of him. Then there was the sound of a gun cocking. Before I can take another step away, the apparent victim, a bloodied man clutching his face, sprints out of the ally and towards me.

I whimpered as he clashed with me, then I heard more footsteps approaching me. My ears are quickly assaulted with the cacophony of voices.

"Shit, looks like we had an eavesdropper," A young man in a leather jacket said. "What a hassle. We can't let this slip."

The bloodied man started crawling away past me as I sat on the wet, cold pavement, too terrified to move. A group of men stood surrounding me and the man. In addition to the dark, the rain obscured much of their facial features. But from their tall, muscular figures, I had no doubt they could very easily overpower me.

One of the men stepped forward, looked at me for a moment, then pointed his gun and pulled the trigger. I screamed my lungs out as I staggered to my feet, my phone forgotten on the sidewalk. Pumping with adrenaline, I ran, almost slipping,  past the brain matter splattered on the ground in front of the victim.

I ran, feeling them right behind me. For the first time in my life, I wished I was getting beaten by my biological or foster parents if it meant I wouldn't get my skull crushed in by these lunatics. I had daily beatings, and I used to think nothing could get worse, but life keeps testing me.

I neared the rundown house and, without much thought, hopped the wire fence and tried to find a spot to hide. But the rain made the fence rail slippery, making me land ungracefully and painfully on my knees. I felt slippery warmth on the palms of my hands and my knees. Blood. I was sure that the scratches would have stung more if I wasn't trying to run for my life.

I barely made it two steps toward the house when callous hands grabbed my waist from behind. I instinctively started kicking and punching, but my screams were choked down. I felt as if my throat was collapsing in on itself as I struggled more frantically. 

More figures showed up, they looked much bigger than I had perceived them before. I kicked at the three figures that approached me, aiming for their crotches. I got one of them, and he cursed and groaned in anger and pain. I felt an additional pair of hands grabbing me, taking hold of my feet amide my efforts to aim at another crotch. Two men pushed me onto the ground and held me down, restraining me. Tears were streaming down my face, my hair was soaked, and so were my clothes, making them tighten. Panicking, I was having trouble inhaling. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

They held me there as I tried wiggling out of their iron grips, but I might as well have been trying to push a wall. Part of me heard mutterings, possibly debating what to do with me. I lost strength, too exhausted to even try moving. Laying there, I succumbed to sobbing as I imagined my imminent death. I trembled as one of my captors crouched beside me and gripped my jaw, turning my face towards him; his grip was not as rough as I expected it to be.

"Alright, start talking. What the fuck were you doing there?" He asked, his nonchalant voice matching the one from the ally.
"Did you call the cops?" Another hissed in anger. When I didn't answer fast enough, the man restraining my arms twisted them; I  yelped as a wave of agonizing pain shot as my shoulder threatened to dislocate.

"The quicker you answer, the less this will hurt, sweetheart." The cool voice suggested. Through my tears, I could only decipher the blond color of his hair. I let out a sob and a low, pained scream, my voice still choked up.

"I di-dn't tell anyo-ne!" I forced myself to answer.

"I don't think asking will matter. We can't afford the time to find out if she's lying or not. The cops could be on their way."  A new voice spoke up, he sounded more nervous than angry.

The blond guy sighed and let go of my face, but I could still feel his eyes trained on me. The words didn't register for a few moments, but I started struggling again when it finally sunk in.

"You know, each one of us is twice your size. You're not going anywhere unless we let you."  Blondie sighed, sounding more amused than annoyed this time. He turned to his men and said, "I'd rather not leave a trail of bodies. We're taking her with us."

"Give up. You're outmatched by us." the guy holding my feet down snapped after I almost kicked his face.  

"L-let m-me g-go," I stuttered... more like begged.

"Be quiet. Be a good girl and stop struggling," Blondie commands. He seems to be in charge of the rest of the men, given how everyone is waiting on his orders.

I was pulled into a seated position, and with one swift movement, blondie swung his arm. A quick strike hit the back of my neck. I whimpered at the sharp pain. Before I could perceive anything else, the darkness consumed me.

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Art by: Ko Byung Jun