Isolated // H.S {ON HOLD}

ch 5: Taken

This chapters song is 505 by the Arctic Monkeys.

Please let me know if you like the songs and if they suit the chapoter or not.

*Chapter 5: Taken*

 I woke up with my little sister sleeping beside me, a dark man standing over me, and a knife to my throat. Rough hands were pressed upon my body as the stranger leaned over, his face against mine. 

“I have a knife to your neck,” he whispered. His voice was soft but very serious. “Don’t make a sound. Get out of bed, or I’ll kill you and your family.”

For a fraction of a moment, I was not fully awake, caught in that fuzzy place between wakefulness and sleep where your body may be reacting but your mind has not realized what is happening yet. 

Was I dreaming? Was this real? My mind was like molasses. Slow. Caught in uncertainty and fear.

Then I felt the pressure of the knife, cold and sharp against my throat

“I have a knife to your neck,” he repeated. “Don’t make a sound. Get out of bed, or I’ll kill you and your family.”

 I was jolted awake. I felt the sharpness of the knife as he pressed it against my skin. My heart began to race, exploding in my ears. I fought the urge to scream, glancing at my little sister in the dark. The words he had spoken seemed to echo in my ear.

 I will kill you and your family!

I wanted to reach out for my little sister, to hold her, to protect her from this horrible thing. I needed to protect her. I froze in fear.

 Seeing the shadow of evil on his face, hearing the determination in his voice, and feeling the strength of his hands, I knew that he would kill us if he had to. 

From that moment forward, I never doubted what he would do. Let me be clear about that. I spent more than nine months under his control. Every day that I spent with him made me more and more convinced that this man was capable of killing. He would have stuck me in an instant. There is no doubt and never was.

 I quietly slipped out of bed.

The man grabbed me by the arm. There was enough light that I could see his knife. It wasn’t a pocketknife. This was much more than that. It was long and black and serrated. Maybe eight inches long. It looked like it could cut right through me, right through my heart and bone. 

I can’t describe how scared I was! Everything that I had thought, every feeling of safety or comfort, every assumption of protection, was stolen in that instant. My world spun on its head. 

My mind began to race. Had he already killed my parents? Were other members of my family dead? What about my little sister, sleeping beside me in the bed? Would he harm her? Would he kill her? What could I do to keep her safe? 

His hands were large and strong as they pulled me from my bed. Holding the knife at my back, he pushed me toward my closet. All of the lights were turned off.

We passed through the bathroom. Holding me very close, the knife always at my back, he pushed me inside the closet. One of us turned the light on, but I don’t remember if it was me or him.

“Get your shoes,” he whispered in my ear.

I bent toward a pair of slippers.

“No!” he spat, pushing me toward my hot pink nikes. “Get those!” 

My heart sank in utter horror. Was he taking me outside?

Sensing my hesitation, he leaned toward me again. “I’m taking you hostage. For ransom.” 

I felt myself deflate. It seemed the very life was ready to leave my body. My throat tightened up with fear.

The light was on now and I could see his face. His long, curly brown hair. His piercing green eyes. Everything he wore was dark. The terrifying knife. In every possible way, this was a very dark young man.

“Grab your shoes!” he barked again. His voice was low but deadly. He was holding tightly to my arm, his fingers digging into me. I hardly noticed the pain. My body was flushing with adrenaline. I was trembling with fear.

I picked up my white running shoes, the same ones that I had worn when I had gone jogging the night before. Bending over, I started to put them on. 

“No! Not now. Bring them with you,” he ordered.

He pushed me toward the bedroom door. We slowly moved out into the hall. He stayed right behind me, never more than a fraction of an inch away.

 The long knife was always close. “Not a sound!” he hissed at me. “I’ll kill you and your entire family!” My heart pounded in my chest. I felt the itch of his beard against my neck. He led me toward the stairs. It was dark and quiet. 

None of my family was awake. Deadly quiet. Deadly darkness. I could hear the grandfather clock ticking from downstairs. He led me down the hall and pushed me past the stairs. Realizing his mistake, he forced me to backtrack, then led me down to the main hall.

Dad, please wake up! I was praying in my mind. Mom, can you hear me? Please wake up and save me! 

“What is the quickest way out?” he whispered as we stood in the main entry.

I hesitated, feeling sick with fear. 

He is going to take me outside, I thought. He is going to hurt or kill me!

I felt the knife against my back. Cold. “I imagined the cut of the blade into my body. “The sliding-glass door behind us,” I answered, afraid that I was going to cry. 

He acted like he didn’t hear me. Pushing me forward, he directed me through the kitchen, past the pantry, toward the back door. 

Out we went. We were on the patio now. He was always very close, controlling everything I did. He directed me across the backyard and up the hill to the side yard near the top of our property. I felt his arms tighten up around me as he pulled me to a stop. “Put on your shoes now,” he said. 

“Why are you doing this?!” I cried.

He looked at me in anger. “I’m taking you hostage.”

 I knelt down and pulled my shoes on. I wasn’t wearing any socks. I glanced back toward my house. It was still completely dark. I felt a yearning to rush back there. Then I felt the knife again. He pushed me up the hill. We were walking through the empty car lot. He suddenly stopped me, reaching down among the weeds. Picking up the two green bags that had been tied together with a rag, he slung them over his back and chest. 

The road behind my house runs up against the mountain. Reaching the top of the empty lot, we hit the road. He pushed me to the left. The road sloped gently downhill. Headlights lit up the side of the mountain as a car came whizzing down the side of the road. Immediately, he pushed me behind the bushes, hiding me from view.  

I was starting to feel really cold now. Peering through the bushes, crouched just a few inches off the grass, I watched the car approaching. I saw the lights on top of the roof, then the markings on the door. A police car! It was a miracle! It was going to be okay! 

The car drew nearer, its headlights lighting up the winding road.

“If you move, I’ll kill you. If you make a sound, I’ll kill you.” He held the knife against my chest.

I watched the car pass in front of us, no more than ten feet away. The stranger seemed to hold his breath. I felt the tension in his body.

The car was moving slowly. I didn’t know what to do. He seemed to sense what I was thinking and held me tighter. 

“Move and I will kill you!” he said again.

The police car passed. The man waited only a second before he pulled me up again, directing me across the road. We once again continued along the trail.

The reality finally hit me. It was like a jolt to my heart, a stabbing pain in my chest: This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a nightmare. This is real!

I’ve got to run! 

But he was always right behind me, the knife always at my back. He held on to me with a tight grip that hurt my arm.