Shadow

There was no bigger cage than the lack of options.

Stuck. Nowhere to turn. 

Four padded walls and a straitjacket. I’ve been this way for 398 days. I was captured by guns pointed at me, until my hands were bound and I was caged. I knew myself, knew who I was and what I was capable of. I knew my own abilities. 

They did too.

The problem was that there was no discernible pattern that I could pick up on. I didn’t know the time, which was usually something I depended on during missions. After an entire year of food slipping under the flap in the door and no true contact with other people, I had lost all expectations and hope of ever getting out.

I didn’t expect a grandiose rescue. There was no one in the world that would ever try to or want to rescue me. Because normally, I’m the rescuer for the hardest missions. 

#

I’ve rescued people from kidnappers. I’ve saved people in thrashing waters and devilish drops. I go to great lengths to survive and help others survive. When there is no one there to help you, I’m your gal. Shine the distress signal, I’m there.

I’m small enough to slip through but athletic enough to make things happen. I’m crafty and impulsive. And I blend in. I’m unnoticeable.

It’s how I’ve made a living. There was a string of lies and broken laws with most of the rescues. But someone was trying to keep me out of the way. Someone that would want to hire me. 

I could pack tools in small places. I could pick locks in seconds; for this reason, I usually keep bobby pins in my hair. Hair is a great place to hide things. So whoever wants me locked up knows my work because they shaved my head as soon as they captured me. My hair had curled under its own freedom as it grew, and it was now tickling my ears. I looked like I had a bob haircut. 

A small section of the door opens, and food is slipped under. If I wanted to eat, I could drag myself up off the ground, worm, and just try to eat that way. But I didn’t want to eat. I lost the will to live. I stopped trying to run in my cell to keep in shape. And it only got harder after they bound my feet too with dungeon grade metal restraints.  

I had people that knew me, but I haven’t had any people caring about me in a long time. Most were dead. The only person that could save me was myself. And I didn’t have an idea of how to break myself out. This broke my spirit and my will. 

And truthfully, I had no reason to live. There was nothing to truly tether me to the world. I only knew how to survive. I didn’t know why I ever tried to. 

At the end of a rescue, you see the love and relief of the people reuniting; the parents crying and seeing their abducted child. The husband kissing the wife. The sister never letting go of the brother...

But me? Orphan. Single child, I believe. There was never any other indication that I had...family. So I never had anyone look at me with any indication of affection. 

I lived alone. Worked alone. Survived alone. No attachments. No meaning. No strings. 

So what was the point? I stopped eating about a week ago. I wanted to wither into the nothingness that I was.

I waited for the food to get picked up. 

But it never did. 

Usually I get 30 minutes to have a meal. This time had stretched. This wasn’t supposed to be this long. I inched forward towards the plate, crawling the best I could, like a worm. 

There was something that told me to eat it. To eat the chicken piece. It didn’t look any different. But I just wanted it. I took a bite, chewing through as much as I could. It was supposed to be a clear chicken breast, no bone, but something hard was in my mouth. I spat to reveal the bobby pin. 

My key. 

I licked the floor to lop it back up, hiding it under my tongue. I ate more food, making it seem like my hunger strike had been caved by hunger. Sloppily, but all clean.

Cover my tracks. Someone was fighting for me.

Someone cared. Maybe it was a delusional thought. Maybe I simply wanted to believe. Whether true or not, I had an ally on the outside.

I waited until the plate was picked up. A key was dropped through.

Thank goodness for gummy joints. I popped my left arm out of its socket, giving myself more space in my straitjacket. I slipped out my good arm first, unbuckling as quickly as I could. When the top white binding was off, I tried to use the key to separate from the metal binds on my feet. But this key wasn’t for that. 

No problem. 

I shoved my arm back to its socket. I took the bobby pin out of my mouth and split it in half, using each of the sections to try to get the binds to release. It only took 30 seconds of fiddling. Time was of the essence. 

Usually after lunch, someone would come in and get me out of my clothes and into others. I never knew the exact time table so I stood behind the door and waited until the door opened. 

The usual man walked in. I could tell by the close crew cut. He was bigger than me, so I hopped up on top of his back and used my arms to block his airways. He tried to pull me off. Little did he know I had the best time on the mechanical bull. 

He struggled and dropped us both but I didn’t stagger in my grip. I tightened my grip until I felt him relax. I waited for five seconds before pushing him off and sliding under him in conjunction.

I swiped his keys and ID tag. I used his tag to get out of the room. I had no idea how to get outside. The room was empty and I saw multiple rooms all surrounding a desk. I snuck to the desk, finding a map. 

Multiple ways to get outside, but all had areas of view. 

I swiped a coat from a seat and some glasses. Okay. Shortest method. 

I put the map in my pocket, closing the coat in the process. Okay. Left hall. I walked at a quick pace through, hiding behind crooks of doors whenever I saw people walk through.I found a cart and used that to get past a crowd of people. 

The path diverged. Left or right? I looked at the map. Right was shorter but had more offices. I could get to the elevators either way.

Left it was. When I saw no one, I started running, quietly and lightly on my feet. I didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. My breath got heavier and I tried to make my panting as quiet as I could. God. I was out of shape again. 

I pressed the elevator button multiple times with urgency. No one was in this area and I wanted to leave before someone appeared. The doors finally opened and I sprinted in, slamming the close doors and the first floor button.

Before the doors could fully close, a hand stopped them and reopened. A man, 6 foot tall, and wearing a lab coat walked in. 

“Hello, Shadow,” the man said. 

He knew my name. He knew me.

He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him.

“Once you get to the lobby, you’re safe But the first floor is teeming with security that have memorized every single face. So, drop through the third floor,” he said, pressing the number 3. “Immediately go right. End of the hall. Use the key card to go downstairs to the lobby. Walk out. The key is for the light blue car on the right when you step out. Second parking space. Drive off. Look in the glove compartment.”

I nodded once, subtly, when I realized he was pretending to talk on the phone and looking around to make it seem like he wasn’t talking to me. I shielded my face from the camera.

I wanted to ask questions but there was no space or time to do so. And right now wasn’t the time to ask why this man was helping me. I needed to get out. 

And I had my abilities to get me out if I needed to. 

The doors opened on the third floor and I stepped out. He waited inside, to correct my mistake of pressing the first floor. I didn’t have time for a thank you. I needed to make it out. 

I walked quickly and used the key card when I reached the end of the hall. I started running downstairs, quickly. My feet were slamming a bit but at this point it seemed irrelevant. I was almost out. 

Lobby. Lobby. I would be safe. 

And instead, I was greeted by security at the end of the staircase. 

Four guys. Ready with stun guns and real guns. 

The anger began to settle in. These men had me stuck in a hole for a year. And they sure as hell could not stop me from getting out. 

I pounced before they could react, throwing myself on top of all of them and making them all fall on the ground next to the door. One of them quickly got on his feet and I threw a swing that he avoided. I began to inch towards him, and moved my fists before switching to my feet and kicking him back. When he was on the ground, I slammed his head against the hard floor.

I was pulled off by the three remaining. And I kicked back, slamming them against the wall. One of them got the wind knocked out of him, and I was released by everyone. I punched once right and once left. And I kept going. Attack. Two people at once wasn’t the best way to manage but it was good enough. I grabbed a broom left by the door and when I was finally given an opening, I slipped out of the door, slamming it behind me and lodging the stick between the handle and with the pressure of the door frame, it was unmovable. 

And I didn’t give it another second, I ran out of the door. I didn’t know if anyone was following me. I ran out to the parking lot. I got the car open in a second and pulled out of the parking lot, searching for the nearest freeway. Full tank. I reached over and took a piece of paper out of the compartment. 

Safe house. 2335 Manning Rd. Blue house, red door. Key is under the plant. 

Safe house. 

There was something else in the glove compartment. A picture of Colleen Stanford, a girl I had rescued five years ago. 

This must’ve been the brother. 

I could almost cry. Someone cared about me.

Irrelevant for now, I thought to myself. 

I was now free. I could do anything and go anywhere. I was capable again.

I headed towards the safe house, into someone else’s gifted safety, on my terms.  

At least until I could regroup to hunt down the person that kept me caged.