Snatched (On Going) I'm Sorry---have Been Extremely Ill---will Update Soon

NINE.

It wasn't until an hour later while I was laying in bed that I realized I had never told Bridger my middle name. This frightened me. I felt a shock course through my entire body. I began to rationalize. Maybe he had heard my name on the television or maybe saw it in a news report. I felt some of the shock abade. That had to be how he knew it.

   I decided that I should go to bed because it was already one O’clock in the morning. I got up and let Credence into my room his tail was wagging and he hopped onto the foot of my bed.

       I crawled into the sheets and plugged up my phone. I decided to listen to Looking for Alaska by John Green on Audible as I tried to fall asleep. I listened for a while and felt myself drifting off.

    The ground was cold, my head was hurting, the fluorescent lights burned my eyes and I closed them tightly. I heard a soft dripping sound that seemed to only get louder the more I tried to ignore it. I heard the oak door creek as it opened and heavy foot falls. I kept my eyes tightly shut. I felt rough hands close around my wrist and that gravely voice order me to my feet. A soft sob escaped my lips. I heard a chuckle.

      My body was hoisted into the air and slung over the man's shoulder as though I weighed nothing. I protested. “Please put me down” I said loudly and clearly. He was silent. “PUT ME DOWN!” I screamed louder. “get your hands off her!” I heard Bridger yell at the man. He ignored us both. My hands were still bound. I couldn't hit him or kick him. He was holding me so tightly.

    I opened my eyes slightly when he began to walk. He slammed the door behind him and I continued to beg him to let me down. He still ignored me. The walls were stone and grimey. He was taking me somewhere. I was petrified. The pleading died in my throat. I was frozen in fear. He carried me for about two minutes and walked into another room.

  There was a dentist office chair in the middle of the room. The walls were lined with metal utensils. Some seemed to be medical, others seemed to be designed for torture and looked demented.  There was a pool of crimson blood on the floor around the chair. The lights were bright and ominous. “Please don't” I begged again, real desperation etched in my voice.

   The smell of bleach and blood mingled together and assaulted my nose. I felt faint. My eyes seemed to weigh 100 pounds. My head was spinning. For the first time since I was captured I was overcome with hopelessness.

      I was going to die here. The man hoisted me into the chair and I tried to squirm away. He pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. My breath caught in my throat. He opened the knife, the blade gleaned in the light. I held my breath. He leaned toward me.

    To my surprise he cut my feet free. I seized the opportunity and kicked out hard. He was expecting this. He grabbed my leg and squeezed it hard, digging his grubby hands into my flesh, paralyzing me.  

     He took his other hand and cuffed my leg into a cold metal shackle, he did the same with the other. He stood up and seized my hands. He wrapped his thick sausage like fingers around my left wrist and cut my hands free. He shackled by hands as well.

     He stood back and then leaned forward again. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Hot vomit boiled on my throat but instead he took his knife and sliced open my cheek. White hot pain surged through me. I could feel the blood dripping down my face. “That’s for trying to kick me, bitch.”

He turned and left. I was now alone in this room. The panic was setting in again. My heart was pounding and my body felt liquefied.  I have to get out of here. I have to. There was an older model television in front of me. It out up and drew my attention. “Hello, Emerson” said a computerized voice. “I am going to ask you some questions. If you answer them, I will not have to use force.”