The End

Warning warning warning: This story deals with a violent assault/kidnapping/confinement. It’s not graphic, but it is dark and disturbing. Younger readers should skip this one. Let me know if you think I should take it down.

Bag over head.

Scream.

Rough hands.

Scream.

Cords cut into wrists.

Scream.

Trunk door slams.

Scream.

The bag over my head smells like vomit. Something sharp digs into my back. The car is hurtling down a road.

I can’t breathe.

Still I scream.

I’m screaming as the hands drag me out of the trunk. I’m screaming as they shove me to a hard, cold floor. I’m screaming as the door slams.

I scream and I scream.

And then I stop.

Listen.

Silence.

Such heavy silence.

I pull my wrists to my teeth and tear at the cords, shredding the bag still covering my mouth. I am a wild animal, gnawing and spitting, frantic. Twisting and straining against the cords, caring little if I break my wrists, my teeth. 

They give way and I rip the bag off my head. I’m heaving.

I can’t see.

I’m reaching my arms out, lurching and stumbling. The space is small. I touch rough walls. I’m on my hands and knees, feeling the floor. My hand hits a familiar object – my phone! It must’ve fallen out of my back pocket.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” I murmur.

The screen illuminates and so does my heart, but only for a moment. I turn the light outward only to see four close concrete walls. No windows. A single door. No knob.

I sink to the floor, gasping. My chest is on fire. I’m sweating and shivering all at once.

I clutch my phone and manage to touch Tom’s name with a shaking finger.

It rings. Once. Twice. He answers.

“Hey, babe,” he says.

I can’t speak. I’m sobbing.

“Cara?” he asks. “Cara, is that you sweetie? What’s wrong?”

I am wheezing as I try to speak.

“Cara! Say something! Are you hurt?”

“Someone –,” I manage. “Someone –,” I can’t think. “Someone t-t-took me.”

I dissolve into a heap of sobs.

“Took you? What do you mean? Took you where?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” I moan.

“Ok , sweetie,” he sounded gentle. “Please calm down. I don’t understand. I can’t come get you if I don’t understand.”

I try to stop my tears and form words.

“He attacked me. Put me in a trunk. I don’t know where I am. No windows.” I’m weeping again.

“Cara,” Tom’s spoke slowly. “Were you…. kidnapped?”

I throw up.

“Listen to me, babe. Listen to me. You have to hang up and call 911. They can track your phone and find you, but you have to call them.”

“No! Don’t hang up Tom. Don’t hang up.” I’m pleading. My life is over if Tom hangs up that phone.

“Ok,” he says. “Ok babe. Try to calm down. It will be ok. Is he there?”

“Noooo,” my voice is quavery. “I don’t think so.”

“And there’s no way you can get out?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Ok, stay on the line, babe. I’m going to call the police from my other phone.”

I hear him murmuring and then he comes back to me.

“Cara? Good news sweetie. The police can find you. They are working on tracking your phone now. Stay on with me. It won’t be long.”

I sigh and sit against the wall, relief flooding me. 

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you toos. It’s going to be ok. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” My voice breaks and I try again. “I was in the parking garage. I was almost at my car. I even had my keys in my hand. And then someone just grabbed me from behind and put a bag or something over my head and then –” 

It all happened so fast but all feels so slow when I remember it. Squirming, flailing, twisting. His arms locked so tight around me I couldn’t move, Drawstring from the bag tight around my neck. Half-dragged, half-carried a few steps, shoved into a trunk…

“Cara? Cara? Are you there?” Tom was saying. “Are you sure it was a guy?”

“It must’ve been. He was big, strong.”

“He didn’t say anything? Can you remember his voice?

“No – nothing.”

“And no one came to help you?”

“It was empty that late. I was on the bottom floor.”

“The guy in the booth didn’t hear anything?”

“It’s been fully automated since last year – there’s no one there.”

“Cameras?”

“I don’t know.”

“The police are checking now I’m sure. I told them which parking garage you use.”

“Tom?”

“What is it, babe?”

“What if he comes back before the police get here?” I whisper.

“That’s not gonna happen, Cara. Don’t even let your mind go there. The police will show up any minute and you’ll be back home before you know it. Sitting on the couch, watching football, yelling at me for not making the bed.”

I cringe. 

“I’m so sorry, babe,” I say. “I’m so sorry for all the fighting, all the bitching. I haven’t been myself lately. But that’s all over, Tom. I promise. If I get out of here -,”

“When. WHEN you get out of there.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right – WHEN I get out of here, it’ll be so different. You can take that trip to Vegas with the boys you were talking about and we’ll build that man cave and …. I don’t know - whatever else you want. No more nagging, none of that. I promise.”

“That’s my girl. That’s the happy voice I like to hear.”

I allow myself a tiny smile.

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the police are taking a long time? Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

“I’m sure they’ll be there soon, sweetie. Hang in there.”

“Can you call them again? Maybe they need more information to find me.”

Tom sighs. A deeply irritated sigh I’ve come to know well.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” I say, feeling sobs bubble up again. “I’m just really scared. I want to come home. Can you call? Please?”

And then a fumbling at the door. Keys jangling. 

My heart stops. I freeze.

“Tom?” I whisper. “He’s here. Oh my God, he’s here. Call the police. Call them now!”

The door opens and a rush of cold night air fills the cell. It’s dark outside but I see a figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

He carries an ax casually over his shoulder.

He’s still holding the phone to his ear. As am I.

He looks down at me, smirking.

“I don’t think so, babe,” he says.