“Miss James, please have a seat. I asked you to come see me since things have been a bit tense for you. I heard about the kidnapping and the reopening of the case regarding your family.” She gives me a meaningful look that clearly means she wants me to say something. After a few moments she seems to get even more frustrated. Does anyone do their job and read the damn file?
“This is the part where you tell me how you are coping, Charlotte,” she bites out, not an ounce of empathy in her haggard body. I glare at her, before reaching down to pull out a notebook so I can respond. She interrupts me before I can get an answer written down.
“Ignoring me isn’t going to make this meeting go faster, young lady,” she snaps. I give her a pointed look. I know for a fact that Sophia and Danielle both wrote on my registration forms that I don’t speak. Ignoring her rant, I start writing.
‘I am coping well. The police asked me not to go anywhere alone, in case the men who attempted to kidnap me tried again. It should have been stated in the file, that I’m sure you read, that I don’t speak,’ I jot down angrily before I rip out the page and hand it to her, accompanied by a glare. How is this helpful to any student that has experienced trauma? It feels more like she wants the gossip and has no interest in me as a person.
She doesn’t react or say anything for a moment, merely stares at me. I hold my ground, refusing to be bullied by this heinous woman. I've worked with therapists on this. Even after the attempted kidnapping, I'm still mentally healthier now than I have been since I lost my family. I don’t need a school guidance counselor to check on me for anything other than my grades or attendance. Both of which are fine. She's not qualified to deal with the demons I've got.
“You may go, Miss James,” she finally declares in a haughty voice. I feel like I'm missing something, but I just
get up and walk out without another glance. By the time she finally lets me go, I notice the bell rang and everyone has cleared out from the hallways. I check my phone to see if Cole stuck around since he generally rides home with Trent.
Cole: I waited a while, but Trent had to get home. Be safe.
Feeling even more frustrated now, I make my way to the front of the school. My mood is ruined since I had to deal with that awful counselor. What makes it worse is that she waited until the end of the day, forcing me to leave after everyone else, which is exactly the situation we’ve all been trying to avoid.
When I finally make it to the parking lot where Sophia picks me up, I notice that she isn’t here. I try not to panic, but this is the first time since the kidnapping attempt that I'm completely alone. I turn to walk back into the building when I feel someone grab my arm. I try to pull my arm away and turn as fast as I can to see who is holding me.
“Don’t fight me, Charlotte,” the voice of the guidance counselor barks out at me. My mouth drops open in shock as she pulls me behind the school to a service entrance where they get food and supply shipments. She drags me toward a red work van with tinted windows and I fight harder. But my attempt is useless, the old bird is stronger than she looks.
Oh god, they found me. I should have noticed how well orchestrated this all was.
As soon as I see the red van, my body goes into fight mode. I fling my other elbow at her face and stomp down on her foot. She immediately drops me and I turn and run, clicking my phone on silent and tucking my phone into my bra, hoping they won’t notice it if they catch me. I'm quick, but they aren't that far behind. I refuse to take risks with my life. I have something to live for now.
“Not so fast,” a man huffs behind me. I pick up my speed as much as I possibly can, but he clearly has height and muscle on his side. He overtakes me in seconds, slamming me to the ground. I don’t even have a chance to try and scream before the world fades to black as my head bounces off the pavement.
I wake up with a pounding pain in my head and blurry vision. I try to blink a few times and clear my eyes, but it doesn't help much. Taking a deep breath, I examine my surroundings. I'm in a small, cell-sized room with no windows and a thick door. The white walls are clean and the scent of bleach hangs in the air. A hospital bed lies in the corner and a small toilet and sink along the opposite wall. I look down at myself and realize that I'm still in my clothes at least. Thank god. That means I still have a chance.
Struggling to my feet, I step on shaky legs toward the sink and turn on the water. The last thing I need is to alert someone so they realize I snuck my phone inside. I feel around my pockets, and they’re empty. I splash water on my face and lift my shirt to dry it. As I bring my shirt down, I slip a hand in my bra to reach for my phone. The moment my fingers touch the hard plastic I feel a wave of hope. Pulling it out, I hold it down low and grasp the edge of the sink like I'm just leaning down to get my bearings. I text Sophia as quickly as I can. My phone barely has a bar of service, so I pray it actually gets to her.
Me: Sophia help kidnapped by counselor and man in red van tinted windows phone has low service knocked out not sure where I am help please help I love you
My desperate side wants to watch the text to make sure it goes through, but the rational side makes me slip it back into my bra and fix my shirt. They won’t leave me alone for long.
The moment my shirt is in place, I hear the creak of the doorknob turning on the metal door in the room. I put my back flat to the wall to face whoever comes through and pray silently. Please don't let them have noticed what I was doing.
The man who walks in looks exactly like I would picture an evil scientist. He's extremely pale, tall, and bony. His face is angular with severe pale blue eyes and a sharp nose. He has a distinct expression of disgust twisting his face, like I’m something below him.
Behind him are the two men who murdered my family. The hope I had felt from texting Sophia fades away as I look pure evil in the face. Revenge and anger pulsate in my chest, growing until I can barely breathe, the loathing filling my entire being.
“Well, you have certainly caused trouble for us. Count yourself lucky, patient 634, you will be of use to us now at least. That means you get to live, congratulations. Unfortunately for me, someone wants to speak to you before I get to start my fun,” he bites out, his voice sharp and high pitched, which causes me to instantly cringe. The fact he called me by a patient number and not my name isn’t lost on me. Instead of freaking out, I try to keep telling myself over and over that Sophia will be coming for me.
The two men lumber toward me with the promise of pain on their faces. I take a steadying breath before I attempt to fight my way through. Even if I can’t win, I'm not going to just let them abuse me. Not to mention I refuse to not inflict some harm on the men who ruined my life, stole my family, and still get to live their lives like nothing happened.
They both reach for me at the same time, and I slide between their bodies. Thank you, softball base slides! I take off toward the door, but it's a small cell and I have no real chance to gain momentum. I settle for body checking the bony scientist. I brace and lower my shoulder to ram him in the chest. I'm momentarily surprised at how weak he is as he flies into the wall in the hallway. I'm just about to round the corner when I'm roughly grabbed from behind and slammed against the wall.
“Don’t try that again, or I promise you I will enjoy every ounce of pain I inflict on you. You are no longer a person here. You are a lab rat, nothing more. Walk, rat!” the scientist snarls as one of the guards presses a gun into my back. Anger and hate boil in me, but I bide my time, knowing odds aren’t in my favor now. The other steps in front of me, and we walk single file through the hallway.
The building must be underground. The walls are cinder block and painted a bright white. Fluorescent lights flicker every few feet above our heads and not a window is in sight. The hall is lined like a dormitory with doors precisely placed. I assume there are more cells like mine behind each one. As we round the corner, the doors become less frequent. I jump as I hear screams coming from behind one of the doors we pass, pained and blood-curdling.
“I told you we aren’t afraid to inflict pain,” the guard behind me leans forward and whispers creepily into my ear. I cringe again as I fight the tears threatening to spill over. Every ounce of hope I had is seeping away with each step I’m forced to take.
Our procession finally stops in front of a set of double doors. The guard in front of me knocks, and we wait.
The door finally creaks open, and I'm not particularly surprised to see my dad’s old boss, Dominic, in front of me. I only recognize him from the fundraising events we attended. He's an older, chubby man, dressed in cheap suits and his receding hairline obvious. He always had a fake laugh and smile for everyone as he mingled through the events, and I remembered having the impression no one liked him. My dad never spoke highly of him, and Mom always cringed when he got too close.
“Welcome patient 634, let me brief you. Guards, if you will?” He sweeps his arm out, gesturing for them to lead me in. I glance around the sparse conference room. A large table fills a big portion of the room with chairs lined up around it. I'm led to a chair on one side of the table and roughly forced to sit. The guards flank my chair on either side, likely in case I get any ideas. I throw them each an annoyed glare before looking forward.