A cliche rooster pulls me from my restless sleep. I don't know how many times I woke up last night but all I know is now I'm gonna be late.
I stumble out of bed and yank on a pair of tight jeans, my boots, a forest green t-shirt and my favorite windbreaker. My dad bought it for me when I was 16 at a rest stop in Toronto on a climbing excursion. I check the time once more.
7:54.
"Shit shit shit shit shit." I mutter and skip out of my room, down the stairs and out of the front door.
I volunteer at a soup kitchen in town every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning and if I'm late one more time, they'll find someone else for the slot.
The cold October air whips through my dark hair and wells tears in my eyes. I lock the front door behind me and skip down the steps on my way into the city. I reach the front gate to the neighborhood. I see a woman walking her dogs, a child leading the way on her tricycle and a black van. Pulling out of the neighborhood just as I do.
A few cars pass but not many surprisingly enough. I glance into the window of a shop and freeze for a moment. A large black van stalls behind me in the reflection of the foggy window. The same van that I saw pull out of my neighborhood this morning as I left. I'm not a paranoid person but, this seems off. My mind flashes back to when I was in grade school. The stranger danger talks and the documentaries about abduction and predators. I'm scaring myself.
I see the red brick building ahead, the soup kitchen is just a quarter of a mile ahead, I'll be fine.
My pace picks up, so does the vans. Every alarm in my head goes off telling me to run for it, why don't I just run for it.
Before I even realize it, I'm running. Sprinting as quickly as possible down the sidewalk. The pavement thuds under my boots. My breath hitches with panic as the van drives up onto the sidewalk in front of me, just about knicking my knee and sending me falling back onto my tailbone. I scream, scrambling away but hands grab my ankles and drag me across the pavement. I kick back hard and here a grunt and shoot to my feet, stumbling down the street. The van screeches behind me, the door still wide open but I see no one inside. I look forward once more, my feet pounding against the sidewalk at a painful rate. I skid to stop as another van pulls in front of me on the crosswalk.
I can't even scream as the shining ebony door slides open, I don't see any faces, just the white gloved hands that pull me in.
