Kidnapped

Chapter 2

The air was dank and disgusting when I awoke. There was no light in the space I was in, except for the slit that let a fleck of light in.

As my eyes adjusted, everything came into focus. The engine rumbled beneath me. I was in the trunk of his car. We were driving towards the docks. The seagulls were crying in the distance. Everything had ended up very wrong.

I shut my eyes, and waited for my death to come. That was all I could do. Wait.

A bright ray of sunlight hit my eyes. It was just coming up over the horizon. We had driven all night. He undid the ropes that had held back my arms, and I was beginning to think of a plan of escape, until I saw the glinting, black metal tucked into his pants. I knew there was no way out.

We drove a few more hours, and I just looked out the window. He could kill me whenever. But I wasn't dead yet. I might as well enjoy the scenery.

He pulled over at a gas station, and motioned for me to stay inside. It was a Sheetz and had news broadcasting TVs at each pump. I watched it, reading the lines that say what there saying. Then I saw my junior yearbook picture flash onto the screen. They knew I was missing, and my family had started a search. Maybe they'll find me, I thought as a flutter of hope circulated my mind. I instantly put that thought to rest. I knew hope was hope, and hope was for things that could never come true. That thought was hope, and hope only breaks our heart, because hope is hope, and reality is reality. Hope is sometimes formed from reality, but reality never forms from hope. Hope is hope. And hope will be my end.

My teacher came back to the car and started pumping gas. He had a bag with him, and we drove to the most deserted place we could find. My story would not be front page news here until two or three days later. We went in and he walked in front of me, obscuring who was there's view of my face. He unleashed the contents of the bag and I saw that it was two, travel sized bottles of shampoo and two of conditioner, some dark black hair dye, a brush, and some toothpaste and a toothbrush.   

He fished out the hair dye and a pair of gloves that came with it. I grabbed the brush and roughly ripped through my long, silky locks. I put on the gloves and started to mix the color together. Then, I hastily put the black solution into my hair, saying goodbye to the platinum blonde hair that I have always known. He had bought three boxes so we didn't run out, and I mixed every one separately. Each time, saying goodbye to another section to my hair. My hair ran down to my lower back, and it was a laborious process. When I was done, we had to wait 25 minutes for it to dry.

He obviously wanted to take advantage of his time, and quickly pulled down my pants, and his. He fingered my anus until I started to cry out, then he laid on the floor of the bathroom. I reluctantly got down on top of him, knowing he had locked us in, and slowly slid up and down along his cock. He told me to go faster, and I did. Before he wanted to accept it, his watch went off and told him it was time to rinse out my hair.

I started to pull my pants up, but he said, “No! Leave them down. I want to keep an eye on my merchandise.”His voice was harsh and cynical, but I had no choice. People always say that you do, but I don't want to die, even though I am dead to the rest of the world.

He yanked on the handle and a stream of water came flooding out of the fossit. He grabbed my neck and pushed me under. The arctic-temperature water splashed onto my head, sinking into my scalp. It streamed down my face, mixing with the tears that this situation had released: being pushed into a sink because you have to rinse out the hair dye that you had to put in because you were getting kidnapped by some one who had a gun and was sexually abusing you. Oh, and when you were waiting for the hair color to resonate, he abused you again. After about three or four minutes the water ran clear through my hair, and the stinging of the cold had subsided. Now it was just numb. I pulled my head up and out of the sink, trying to keep my head level so as to lessen the chances of the water spilling onto my back. The odds were not in my favor. The drip was sprinting down my back against the goosebumps that had all but subsided.

I grabbed a bottle of the the conditioner and dapped it onto my palm. I sparingly massaged it into my head, and I bent over, letting the hair fall away from my head, loosening it.

I felt hot hands on my ass, and he massaged and kissed it. Then, he stood up and grinded against me. I started to stand up, and he didn't stop me, but he didn't back off either. He mirrored my every step as I moved back over the the sink and bent over again. He kept his chest to my back, and massaged the conditioner out of my head, gently. It felt good, but I was not going to let myself get dragged into his pit of which I could not come out of.

“Get up,” he said, “We have work to do.” He let go of me and pulled up his pants, and tossed me mine from across the room.  He led me out towards the car and walked around towards the drivers side. I slid in and belted myself to the seat. We drove for what seemed like an endless amount of hours, but the sun never set or rose.

I stared out the window and watched the trees on the side of the highway go by. They were still and lifeless as they soaked up the morning sunshine. The dashboard said no time, and the sun looked high so I could only guess it to be around noon.

“It's 12:43 pm,” he said loudly, breaking the awkward silence of the car. He saw me looking up at the fiery ball of gas.

“Thank you,” I said tentatively. I shut my mouth and quickly returned my gaze to watch the tree sift by.

“Okay. So. We are going to South Carolina. Do not talk, make eye contact, or try to contact anyone. You will do as I say, when I say, because I say. And because I know you saw my gun earlier. Do you want that up against your head? I didn't think so. You will be my assistant. I have no problem with hitting a girl, so you better watch out. And, if you don't want to get hit, give a little bit more effort in the sex. I like to hear girls groan and scream with pleasure as I have sex with them. I know that you'll like it in the end. We both do.” His eyes never even sifted off the road as he talked. His voice was steel and sharp. It cut the air like a razor and I had no idea what was in store.