Inachevé

Thirty - Abducted

SHE WAS DEFINITELY ALL I could think about.  Her beautiful blonde hair and bright smile made my heart glow with unspeakable joy.  Her eyes were soft and innocent; I couldn’t help but get lost in them.  Her heart was made of gold and her spirit was made of fire. There was nothing horrid about her.  We were both sixteen and completely for each other.  It was utterly clear to everyone that we were in love.   We held hands, shared jokes, flirted and nuzzled.  We hadn’t kissed.  I was too scared. Even though we hadn’t gone out on an official date, I knew Shannon Paige was the girl of my dreams.  And I knew no one could replace her.  

My name is Danny Christianson.  Back then I was young and loving life. I was a proud student, a good son and brother, an excellent lover, a careful driver, a devoted Presbyterian and a normal, healthy American kid.  As far as my physical looks went, I was considered “cute.”  I never thought of myself as “sexy”, I left that to my older brother, Charley.   I had black, floppy hair that was styled in a boyish and playful fashion.  It hung in my brown eyes, sometimes giving Shannon the job of stashing it behind my ears. 

I didn’t really care what it looked like, as long as Shannon liked it.  My brother and I shared the same hooded eyes and chiseled jaw, making some people believe that we were twins (but we weren’t).  Charley was six years older than me, making him twenty-four.  My brother and I lived with our mother, Sharon.  Our dad left us seven years ago after he had admitted to having an affair with the post woman.   Since then, Mom was left to raise us. 

I was a freshman at Handleson’s High School, which was about two hours from my house – we lived in the rural area of Nebraska.  I enjoyed it only because that’s where I met the lovely Ms. Paige.  But other than that, most of my teachers detested me.  I never knew why. I always respected and smiled at them, but I guess that was something they didn’t see from a lot of their students.  There were only two teachers I liked: Mrs. Canon and Mr. Fisher.  Mrs. Canon was very young (for a teacher) and very attractive.  She had lengthy, black hair that draped over her chest and wispy bangs that swept over her huge, blue eyes.  She was our literature teacher. 

Mr. Fisher, our language arts teacher, was hilarious and friendly.  He had a large, goofy smile filled with crooked teeth and funny, puny eyes that seemed buried in his wrinkled face.  His brows were comically bushy and he wore thick, black rimmed glasses.  He was gangly and kind of thin, but really wry.  I had seen him push his old 1950 car out of the parking lot to get it working.  He was quirky but truly nice.  

After school, I would hang out with my three best friends.  Their names were Brian, Logan, and Timmy.  They were pretty cool and had proven to be loyal comrades.   I had known Brian since kindergarten, Logan since 4th grade and Timmy since I had moved to Nebraska, which was three years ago.   Brian was a quirky music lover, Logan was the ladies’ man and was always found hanging out with the cheerleaders, and Timmy was the comical genius who could make any one laugh, even if the joke wasn’t meant to be funny.  And I was the prudent headmaster.  Though most of time I was logical and calm, I was, like all teenagers, absolutely certain that I was immortal. I couldn’t possibly die.  It just didn’t make sense.  But that dream, like everything else, became frighteningly real. 

It was a cool fall day when I found my life turn from heaven to hell.  I was standing quietly at the bus stop, looking forward to asking Shannon out on a real date, when I saw movement to my left.  I snapped my head up and looked around nervously.  I had a strange feeling that I wasn’t the only person outside the empty school lot.  It was 3:47, and I was expecting my Mom or brother to pick me up.  I pulled my slim brows towards the center of my forehead, an expression usually made when I was either worried or sincere.  I looked all around me and saw nothing. I assumed that I was safe. 

I paced in front of the bus stop’s bench and occasionally watched warm clouds escape my mouth.  I was extremely bored.  I hadn’t brought a book to read and I didn’t have my iPod because last week the teachers had confiscated it.  They had found it in my jacket pocket.  I had accidently left it in there the night before.   Since then, I remembered to check my pockets before school. 

The cold air was uncomfortably frosty and I wasn’t wearing enough clothes.  I sat down on the freezing wooden bench and began rubbing my arms.  My lips were painfully chapped and I couldn’t bear licking them because they were so raw.  I shuddered a bit since there was a breeze.  I exhaled deeply as I stared at my feet.  I swung them childishly as I began to think that my family members had forgotten about me. 

As I stared at the ground I saw a dark shadow swallow up my own.  At first I thought it was a cloud, but that assumption was corrected when I realized it was the presence of a human being.  My hair stood up and my body froze with fear.  Slowly, but surely, I raised my head until I stared into another person’s eyes.  My heart exploded with terror as I stared into the icy blue dots.  They were filled with dominance and evil.  I had seen them before.  He had passed the school around 3:00 every day since I had moved in.  In the mornings, he usually posed as some stupid fund raiser for puppies. 

At night, he became a just-plain-creepy stalker.   Lindsay, my other friend, told me that he was really nice and really liked helping animals, but I, on the other hand,  had second thoughts about him.  He always eyed me in a way that made my skin crawl.  I hated his scattered black beard, scruffy mustache, and messy hair.  I always steered clear from him whenever I went outside for lunch.  Shannon said he made her uncomfortable, even though he gave her large, friendly grins.  I knew who he was simply by looking at him against the gray, autumn afternoon: a beggar, a liar and a dangerous person.  I was wondering why I hadn’t reported him sooner.

"Hey,” he said, making my stiff heart shatter in surprise.  I broke from his gaze and looked at him in a more controlled manner. 

“Yes?”  I answered, my voice trembling.  I broke that tendency quickly.  I didn’t want him to know I was scared, even though I knew that was his attempt.  As I waited for him to speak, thoughts of escaping and screaming came to mind.  But something told me that I would be safer if I kept my mouth shut.  While he was trying to find a reason to open his grimacing mouth, I silently flipped my phone open in my pocket and tried to find the number 9.  I knew where 1 was, but my fingers were too numb to feel the bottom numbers.

“May I borrow your cell phone?”  he said in a monotone voice.  The color drained from my face and fear raced through my freezing blood stream.  His voice was deep and raspy.  I stopped fiddling with my phone and looked at him.  “Your phone, may I borrow it?” he repeated in a shockingly firmer voice. Without thinking twice and remembering the rule about ‘adults shouldn’t ask kids for help’, I held out my phone.  His gruff, ugly hand slowly lifted from his hip and began reaching for my device.  But before he was able to take hold of it, it rang.  I pulled it back and instantly flipped it open, hoping it was a family member or friend.  It was Shannon.   It was the perfect excuse to get up and start heading for town. 

As I read her text message, I searched blindly for my back pack, which was placed right beside me.  But all I found was emptiness and a wooden bench.  I stopped reading her text and looked at the bench.  The spot where my back pack should have been was bare.   I closed my phone and looked underneath the bench.  It wasn’t there.  I then figured that I had accidently left it in the school building.  But I knew that was impossible.  I distinctly remembered placing it beside me.  I sighed and slowly looked towards the stranger, knowing he had it.  He did.  But I never got the chance to ask for it. He had already disappeared