The Wrong One

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. Vivi thinks to herself, staring blankly into the empty room. Darkness engulfs her vision, her eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. She reaches for her phone, it’s gone. Panic consumes her, bile rises in her throat. Oh no I’m going to be sick she thinks to herself. She tries to regulate her breathing, short quick breaths  coming faster and faster. Her hands fall to her side and hit a solid surface. She feels around. Cold concrete greets her palms. She grounds herself, feel the cool floor, she says to herself. Breathe in, breathe out. Wherever she is, there is no window, no light. A clattering and clanging sound disrupt her thought. Her breath quickens. Where can she hide? She tries to crawl on the concrete floor, inching slowly in one direction until she meets another solid surface. She needs to feel around, figure out where she is. The damp, musky smells of the space assault her nose. A basement or warehouse she thinks, but how…how did she get here and why is she here? She closes her eyes tightly, trying to think back to where she was, what she was doing before she came to this unfamiliar place.

           Vivi was opening the small local coffee house on main street Saturday. It was a dreary, gray over casted morning. The clouds thick and bulbous with a threat of rain or snow, depending on whether the temperature dips a few degrees colder or not. There would be the normal morning rush of locals coming for their espressos, cappuccinos, and herbal teas – all hot of course on a morning like today. She was alone in the opening shift, which she enjoyed. Grinding the freshly roasted beans for the percolator. Baking the muffins, croissants, and cinnamon coffee cake, the aromas battling for dominance with the smell of coffee brewing. She slices various breads and sets up the display case, knowing they would sell out by eleven because everyone who is anyone knows that The Beanery’s baked goods were coveted and limited.

           She served Hank and Fred, two retired firefighters who had settled in the small town eight years ago and were religious about their Saturday coffee meeting. They occupied the far left corner table for a minimum of two hours. Lula arrived shortly after seven for her usual cinnamon vanilla latte and today she brought her daughter, Violet, who ordered hot cocoa and clamored for the flaky chocolate croissant that was oozing hot chocolate lava from its core. Dad came by to say hi and grab a coffee to go, though Vivi knew it was to check on her and make sure she was safe, which Vivi loved about her father. It was an otherwise ordinary morning on a cold mid-January Saturday.

           “I’m sorry I’m late!” Kiera yelled out as she arrived at ten-thirty. “Traffic on the beltway was a mess and the temperature is dropping, forecasters are predicting eight to ten inches of snow now.” she belts out, breathless from running across the street from the parking lot.

           Vivi looks at her, places her hands on her hips in disbelief. “Kiera, the beltway really? You literally live two blocks from main street.” she laughs at her coworker and good friend.

           “Well you know, I had to get Blake out of the house too.” she smirked, the joy of her new relationship emanating from her.

           “I’m taking out the trash and going to put these in the mailbox. I’ll be back in a few.” Vivi calls out, shrugging into her emerald green puffer coat before she grabs the bulging trash bag full of pastry covers and parchment paper from the morning’s baking.

           She was walking back from the mailbox, sending a quick text to her dad, if it didn’t snow she was heading to the library to work on her thesis proposal that was due in a few weeks. She needed clarity and an environment without distractions. A young man, walks on the sidewalk, approaching her. He appears out of place in their small mountain town. His black cargo pants, black combat boots, black heavy sweater and black beanie hat stand out like a sore thumb compared to the colorful palette of the locals.

           “Excuse me, miss. I think I’m lost can you help me?” he asks shyly, looking at his phone and then to Vivi.

           Ahhh, a vacationer, she should have guessed it. Although it seemed late this time of year for the usual tourists. “Umm sure, what are you looking for?” she asks.

           That is the last thing she remembered. Clattering and clanging sound again from somewhere close by. Her head pops up, she listens to determine if the noise is coming from pipes or factory machines. This unfamiliar place that she has ended up at. Dark. Dank. Musky. Dangerous. Heavy footsteps and muffled voices interrupt the noise. She stills, her back firmly against what she assumes is a wall. The jingling sound of keys on a ring. The noisy clatter from the key being placed into the keyhole. She can’t see anything, but she imagines a hand, a dangerous hand turning the knob. What will be her fate? What did she do to deserve this?

           Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. Heavy boots enter the space. Vivi curls into herself, she has nothing to protect herself, nothing to fight with. If she makes herself small, maybe they won’t see her. No, she thinks, someone brought her here, took her from her small town and brought her here for what reason, she did not know. The footsteps stop. Vivi’s heart is pounding so loudly in her chest it echoes in her head. Should she cry? Should she scream? What good would either of those do for her. She tries to feel around the edge of the assumed wall, praying for a rock, a piece of gravel, dirt, really anything that she can throw and try to get a vantage point to run. She feels a chain. Yes! She clamors internally, a chain, she can hold it and try to hit her kidnappers with it. But as she runs her hands along the chain she drops it. Feeling her waist. No no no no. This can’t be, she is chained. But to what?

           “Don’t fight the chain. It’s for your safety.” a gruff male voice states. He mutters something to someone, but she can’t make out the words.

           Footsteps grow, the clomping of heavy boots. She is going to die. She holds on to the chain, hoping it grounds her to something. Perhaps it is attached to the wall and when they grab her to take her to her death they will have to pry her from the wall. Who would do this? Why would someone do this to her? She couldn’t think clearly. The footsteps stop. The sound of something clattering and then a clink. The obvious sound of a string or small chain being pulled from a fan or small light. A dim light pops to life, offering a light yellow glow to the space.

           Vivi slowly opens her eyes, two men stand in front of her. There is a bed behind her, against the bare gray concrete cinderblock wall. A small sink, rust stained, situated on an adjacent wall. Her eyes dart quickly around the space, taking in her surroundings. Then she meets the gaze of the men, staring at her. She gulps, fear searing through her veins. She doesn’t want to think about what horrors they have planned for her.

           “Where….where am I?” she asks, trying to express bravery, pretending she isn’t scared for her life.

           One of the men approach her, pulls her up by the chain and hooks it to a track in the ceiling. “This will allow you to walk around. Sink only has cold water but it’s better than nothing. Toilet over there.” he says emotionless pointing around the room. He is close, too close for Vivi’s liking, but she stands firm in place, trying to show she isn’t scared.

           Static from a walkie talkie sounds. The other man heads toward the door, speaks into it, “yeah tell him the package was secured.” A muffled response, then, “ETA?”

           The men look to each other then nod and leave. I survey the room again. Closer inspection of some holding cell. I yank the chain connected to my Hannibal Lecter looking harness. I walk in all directions to see how far I can travel. Barely to the toilet. Not to the corner opposite the bed. Looking at the scratchy charcoal gray prison blanket atop the bed, I kick the metal frame, waiting for rodents or bugs to scurry about. No movement. Next, I try the sink, the man was correct and only the cold water works, but it spews a murky brown stream before it clears. What the actual…..

           Stomping boots enter the room with a slam of the door, Vivi’s head snaps up. The door reverberates against the wall. A new man, scarier than the other two, walks in. He is easily six foot two, maybe even six foot four. He must be their leader. He has a clean shaven beard, piercing blue gray eyes, and a scar that travels from the corner of his left eye down to…well Vivi can’t see because his beard is covering that part of his face. She takes a few quick steps back, the edge of the metal bed frame catching her at the knees, and she almost falls into the bed.

             The leader grabs the chain, yanking her back to her feet so she doesn’t fall back. He takes two steps toward her, closing the space between them. Vivi closes her eyes, turns her head away from him. She is scared. Terrified.

           “We won’t hurt you. Look at me.” he demands.

           Vivi considers defying him, but she’s not willing to tempt her fate. She slowly turns and opens her eyes. Her hazel eyes meeting is steely blue irises. “What do you want from me?” she pleads shakily, unsure of what she is pleading for. Life? Freedom? Answers?

           His large hand grabs her chin, his rough fingertips grazing her cheek. He tuns her head from side to side. Studies her, then lets his hand fall. Turning, he looks back at her, a look of sincerity in his eyes. She must not be seeing right. Her mind clearly confused by the situation at hand. His hands ball into fists, and before she can react, his fist meets the face of one of the other men in the room.

           “I gave you one fucking job Jeb. One!” he growls, then storms out of the room. The other men trail behind, blood dripping from the nose of one onto the concrete floor.

           Vivi shudders. If he is strong enough to break a nose with his fist, what could he do to her? She can’t think of it. She needs to look for something to pick the lock of the harness and chain so she can escape. Her hand flies to her head, remembering the crown of bobby pins that secured her braid into a bun this morning. She plucks one out of her head, probing her brain for  how criminals do this in the movies. She feels around her waist and chest for a lock. Nothing. She slides her hand from the chain, trying to reach as far behind her back as her shoulders and arms wild stretch, but she can’t grasp the end of the chain and the lock where it meets.

           The door slams open again. Startling Vivi, she drops her bobby pin on the floor, but covers it with her shoe so that the men don’t see it. Her eyes flittering between the three men. The leader steps forward. Vivi steps back.

           “Ivy?” he asks.

           “No.” Vivi shakes her head vigorously. “Vivi.” she corrects him.

           He drags one of the men toward her, the one without a broken bloodied nose, and pushes him into her face. Vivi steps back again, the cold metal bed frame meeting her knees.

           “Does this look like Ivy?” he growls at the man in his grip.

           “She…I thought…” he tries to answer.

           “It’s the wrong fucking girl!” he screams at them both.

           Did he just say the wrong girl? Who are these people? And why is she here, but then she wonders, if she isn’t supposed to be here, who was supposed to be and what was her fate? Vivi shudders again.

           “Please. Just….just let me go. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone. Please.” she tries to beg, tears falling from her eyes. Her dad must be worried sick about her.

           Then a fourth man enters the room, whispers something to the leader, the tall guy, and he growls like an animal, running his fingers through his hair. Fury and fire flash through his eyes, turning them a smokey gray. His jaw clenches. The vein in his neck and on the side of his head thump in rage.

           “So not only did you guys fuck this up and NOT bring me Ivy…you brought me Vivian fucking Malone!” the two men look to each other, confused. “Malone! Heiress to the Malone cartel!” he exclaims.

           What is he talking about? “I’m just Vivi. Vivian Locke.” she states. “Please just let me go.”

           He turns and looks at me, quizzically, then laughs. He leaves, then comes back with a folder fill of papers, throwing them on the bed. And there is my father’s face plastered in reports, newspapers, and pictures. Joseph Malone. Mob boss. Cartel boss. My eyes dart up to meet the man’s eyes, then shoot back down. I spread the evidence across the bed. Disbelief washes over me. “What?” I whisper.

           “You don’t even know you are Vivian Malone do you?” he asks. “Well isn’t this just getting better by the minute.” he laughs out, then leaves the room with his sidekicks, slamming the door behind him. And there, strewn across the bed, are pictures of my father, or the man who is supposedly my father. A man who has religiously looked out for me and yet kept me in the dark. How did I get here…into this mess.