Started With a Lie

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Fifty-Nine

One year ago, if you had told me that I would end up blindfolded in the back of a black SUV with a gun softly pressing to my head by a man who has tried to kill my supposedly secretly rich family for years, I would probably punch you. As the young, angsty teenager I was and quick-tempered as I had been with Karen and her drama, I probably would have zero tolerance to hear about some hypothetical insane-sounding scenario. A black eye and I'd walk away carelessly.

Well, this is my life. And I caused all of it. Karma.

"So glad to be out of that traffic," a male voice mumbles from far away, probably driver or shotgun seat. Not Victor. From what I've gathered, there are at least three men or women in the car.

"Keep driving," Victor curtly responds, sighing. I hear him unlock into his phone, his ringer on. If my hands weren't handcuffed, I would've used that opportunity to surprise attack him, using the force of my head to knock him momentarily while the gun dropped into my lap or something. But everything is planned to precision.

Precision...but perfection? No way. There is a mistake and I am constantly using all my senses to find it—any gap for escape or a way to out-smart him.

For some reason, the fear that is supposed to be crawling through my chest and body has disappeared. Death feels like an old friend, one my mother knows too well. Would it really matter if anything happened to me? I don't know a life without my mother. Lee, Mark, Madam Jin, and everyone had such a large life without me before and after, it will be the same. I haven't even spoken to many of them for months. Daniel would move on. Candy and my friends would hold me in their hearts for the rest of their lives, a token of whatever I had represented to them.

I brush away my thoughts, knowing these pitiful ideas won't help anyone.

Hours pass, blurred between a growl in my stomach and the thirst in my throat. I haven't eaten or drank anything in hours and sheer panic has exhausted all resources in me. I'm still in my maroon party dress. I wish I could change so bad. It's a good thing I took off my heels in the hospital elevator much to Victor's suspicion. Not to mention the car itself was almost too hot. I couldn't wait for the winter air.

Eventually, the gun is removed from the temple of my head. The car begins to slow and soon the engine eases off. When the door opens, I try to think of escaping. Not immediately. But I focus on the sounds. Busy street or rural countryside? I focus on the feeling of the streets. Sidewalk pavement or dirt road? These will be essential later on if I somehow manage to get away.

But when I am pulled out, the floor is smooth. Like marble. There are no sounds and no smell. It's cold, but only slightly. I'm baffled, my senses overthrown. Where could I be?

"Move along," a man grouches as I feel a shove against my back.

I obey, dragging my feet along. There has to be something. Am I in a building? Am I still in New York? Is this all a trick?

The amount of horror movies have tuned my head to believe that this is like some action plot that will result in evil strategies yet a happy ending. As I begin to lose feeling of time and space, not knowing where I am and far from being able to accurately even guess, I find myself spiralling in doubts.

Suddenly, a cloth is pressed to my mouth with a chemical scent and an overpowering hit of nausea and fatigue. I feel my consciousness slip away from me as my limbs begin to drop.

I am cold when I wake up. My eye feel like they're glued together but I take in the fact that I am no longer blindfolded. I rub my eyes, forcing them to open. The room is small, almost like the size of my own bedroom back at home. It's bland, walls beige and floor hardwood. Am I in a house? How long has it been?