Kidnapped: The Impossible

Chapter One

I felt his sweaty body on me. He was tying the zip cords on my wrists behind my back, it was so tight. I tried moving them but it just made my skin raw. I felt the blood trickle down the back of my shirt. He was sitting on me with his knees on either side, resting on my legs. My head was so heavy, I couldn't see anything, the room was so dark. I was laying on a mattress on the floor. Everything hurt so bad, my body just ached. What could I have done that made my body hurt? Any of my past memories were gone. It felt impossible, no ones memories could just disappear. I had a family, a name, plenty of friends. I'm sure of it. I just had to figure it all out. A deep gruff voice brought me out of my sloppy thinking. I was so tired with a splitting headache. 

"My dear, glad to see your awake."

I had nothing to say back to him. My hands were tied so tight they bled. Not to mention I was on my stomach. For a long period of silence, all he did was just sit there waiting for a response. He finally groaned and got up off me, with a hard push to my back to help himself up. My face was smushed in that filthy, smelly mattress. I heard a door open and saw a flash of light before he closed the door. I heard a hard click as the lock went into place. The light danced around my eyes when I was in the dark again, his short, stalky shadow just lurking. I tried moving to my side to try and get a better view of the tiny room. I could see the outline of a chair and some pipes in the darkness, no windows that I could see or any light source. There was a dripping sound. It's going to drive me nuts before the end of it. If I'll see the end of it.

I guess I drifted off, I guess the dripping didn't drive me crazy. The opening of the door and the light woke me up. There was a tall black shadow standing out in the yellow light. He shut the door and walked over to me where I couldn't see him. He cut the cord on my hands with a swish of the pocket knife he held. I move over on my back to face the guy that freed my hands.

"You make any sounds, or if my guys have any troubles with you, you will not be treated as nice as you are now," the tall guy says with a heavy italian accent.

"Ya, cause this is a five star hospitality right n," I gasped as he cut my grabbed my left hand and cut a thick deep line from my wrist to my ring finger.

"I told you, if you make any sounds you won't be treated as nice. There is much worse places I could and will send you if I have to. There are places where I can get at least 500 dollars a night for your pretty face, all the guys would fight over your delicate body." He gave a long period of silence. "It's your choice of where you would like to be."

I didn't respond for I had learned my lesson.

''My guys will come in with some food in awhile, maybe some bandages for your banged up hand. If they have no trouble with you,'' he says with what sounded like pleasure. He walked out like he owned the place, I guess he did for that matter. He shut and locked the door, same routine.

I looked down at my hand. It was gushing blood. It made me sick to my stomach to look at it. The pain was dull, it didn't hurt that much. I sat up for the first time in a long time, all the blood rushed to my head. It made me so dizzy I had to lay back down again. I heard the door unlock and open. Same old routine. I looked up to see the same stocky short man who cut my wrists. He carried a microwave meal and an ancient first aid kit. This was the first time I actually really looked at him. He was wearing a black Hanes shirts with washed jeans. If had to guess, Mexican. Short, spiky black hair, gold chain, and to top it off a mustache. Not only did he have a mustache, he carried a taser in a gun holster on his belt. Looked like something a cop would have around their waist.

He sat down the boxed meal and said to eat. It was a lasagna one that tasted freezer burnt and half cooked. He stood against a wall just watching me. After I was done eating he gestured for my hand, what other choice did I have? I gave it to him and he went to work. He cleaned all the dried and new blood. He was gentle as he put gauze and wrapped the bandage around and around my hand until it was tight and layered. He also put salve on my wrists. The Mexican cleaned up the medical supplies and picked up my food box and left.

"Thanks," I said quietly before he shut and locked the door. I'm not sure if he heard me, maybe it was good if he didn't. He probably wouldn't have understood me if he did hear me. I had nothing to do in this little tiny room but listen to the water drops hit the ground. I finally went to back to sleep.