Kidnapped (☆Sequel Is Published☆)

Almost Saved

It has been almost 3 months since the kidnapping of 16 year-old Emma Wilson. She was last seen in her home town, Sacramento, California.

"We are trying our very best to recover the situation and get as much evidence as we can. Emma is in extreme danger," Officer Jullion says.

I smile and chuckle to myself. That's the same officer at the store!

"We would love to stay positive, but by the way this is going we aren't even sure if she's still alive. That would just be a miracle."

With the amount of disrespect she gives me. I couldn't agree more.

I stand up off the couch, picking up the remote. Just before I shut it off, I hear a familiar name. Jacey Fowler.

I furrow my eyebrows a bit, amused that she was already being looked for. My eyes were glued to the TV by now.

Jacey Fowler was kidnapped just 5 weeks after the kidnapping of Emma, leading the police to believe that the two teenage girls been abducted by the same person.

"They live just a few blocks from each other."

A different officer was now on.

"It's not hard to believe that this is the same person taking these young girls for God only knows what," he says, obviously disgusted.

A woman appears onscreen. She looked to be Emma's mother. I raise my eyebrows. She was very distraught, clearly.

"I know she's alive! Somewhere deep inside my heart I can feel that she is trying, she is alive. Emma will come home," she exclaims, almost on the verge of tears.

I turn off the news and scoff to myself.

They will never find Jacey, that's for sure. Not here anyways.

I unlock the door to her dark room. She looks up at me, almost immediately looking down in fear. I could see her slight shaking.

"Hungry?" I ask, looking down at her. She was rolled in a ball, covering everything she could from me.

"I asked you a question," I say impatiently. I come closer with the batter in a cup. I give her a little more than usual. She was getting pretty skinny, and I'm not going to let her die.

"Yes," she whispers, fear in her voice. I bend down, holding the cup to her lips. She begins shaking visibly harder.

I feed her the batter. She eats it quickly within 40 seconds. I get up, her flinching and tensing up. I walk back to the small table I had recently set up and place the dirty cup next to the cheap pancake batter.

I lean back against it.

"You're never going to see her again" I say, an uncontrolled smile creeping on my face. She slowly looks up, avoiding eye contact.

"She's making me hundreds right now," I say. I was really glad to have gotten away with her friend. I really didn't think I could do it, but now I have someone to sell.

Emma stares at my feet with a mix of anger and sadness. "W-What," she pauses, taking a painful gulp.

"What do you mean?" She asks softly. Her chest was moving up and down quicker. I lick my lips and look at her.

"Keep talking and you'll find out," I say huskily. I push myself away from the table. She visibly shutters and looks back down. I could her slight sniffles as I leave once more.

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"Put this on."

He hands me a black mask. I look at it. It was the same one he had.

"Put the sweater on," he adds, pushing a black sweater against my chest. I take it, cautiously laying it over my clothes.

"Now, I'm going to take you to the store," he says, hanging a mask over his mouth. "Not Walmart. Too much people and officers," he adds. I shake my head internally.

He had me dressed like robber, and so was he. All black. I had no idea what he was planning. I won't be surprised though.

"We can't have your hair like that," he says quielty. His hands run through my knotted hair. I tense up and cringe from his touch.

Just in the blink of my eye, I hear the flick of his pocket blade. I take a deep breath from the horrible experience the very first time he used it. The gash in my arm is healed by now, but awfully. The line is still in my forearm and is going to heal with the cut soon. He hasn't even spoken about taking it out.

I hear crunching sounds, immediately figuring out the cause. He was slicing my long hair shoulder short. I gasp queitly and keep my eyes down as I feel his hands grasp my dirty blonde hair tightly, cutting quickly.

I already know it looks awful, but what should that matter. He's taking me out of the room, this house. I can see the sun, feel it. Smell fresh air that isn't my own shit all the time. I can soak in the small bit of freedom for the few moments I'll have it.

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He tightly grasps my hand, leaning into my ear. "Say a word and I will kill you slowly and painfully," he says quielty through his mask. He immediatly looks around, checking for anyone who could've heard it. I take a deep breath, keeping my eyes down, occasionally keeping an eye out for anyone who I could have the stomach to talk to.

My brain was exploding with thoughts. People everywhere, the freedom to speak. I wanted to speak, say anything. Help me!

He walks down the aisles, his fingers tightly squeezing my right hand. I was too afraid to look at people too much. My eyes stayed down on the tiles floor most the time.

Michael kept his hoodie up. He was very suspicious looking.

I hear a woman walking on my left. I raise my head a bit. I look her in the eyes. She looks back, her face looked a bit confused. She seemed to have been a little suspicious.

Say something! It's your only chance!

"Is she yours?" The lady asks, looking at me with a smile. I wanted to just run into her arms and tell her I was the girl. I was Emma Wilson. But something was stopping me, and I hate it. He's going to beat me so bad. Oh, fuck.

Michael was holding a loaf of bread. He slowly turns around. I could visibly tell that he was now very nervous.

He doesn't say anything, pointing directly to the mask with a shrug. I make a confused face, quickly understanding the reason.

"Religion. We are not allowed to speak with anyone without the Lord's permission. I apologize," he says. She nods and smiles politely.

"Well, she's beautiful," the woman says softly. "And she looks an awful lot like the missing girl. It may just be on my mind too much."

He gulps and looks down at me with a laugh. "The Lord would not be proud if that were her." He says. "Would you like to hear more about my religion. I warn you, it could take a long time to explain, but the Lord is always worth it."

He raises his eyebrows, acting excited to be speaking about it. She politely declines and waves bye.

And with that, she walks away. I turn around to take one last look at my once chance to escape. I shake my head, my eyebrows furrow in complete mental pain. I could feel a lump in my throat. He's always one step ahead. 

Fear takes over as I'm pulled harshly down the aisle. Michael was angry. He was flying past everything, quickly walking to the back of the store. The black beanie he had put over my head was slipping off. I couldn't catch up, but still his hand held mine tightly.

Just as we reach the back, he tugs me forward roughly. I almost fall. His hand crushes mine.

Again, he leans into my ear and threatens me. "Look at someone again and I will cut every finger off your pretty little hands," he says. I felt like vomiting. I was so stuck. No one was going to save me.