I shake my head, rejecting the idea. My mother chose suicide over fighting for custody but hurting someone else is just as bad.
“My world is over. Do you understand that?”
I scream into the gag when a stream of water is sprayed on me. The frigidness of it makes my body convulse, but no matter which way I try to turn, moving is impossible.
Sobs threaten to choke me due to the gag in my mouth, and I’m beyond worrying about the tears and snot running down my face.
I beg to be let go, beg this person to have mercy, but the only thing coming from my mouth are grumbled noises.
Shadows never cross in front of the light, making me aware that the person is keeping their distance. I feel utterly defeated when I realize they have the ability to kill me without even touching me. The water is a good start in this freezing room, and as hard as I try, I can’t recall any facts about how long it takes for hypothermia to set in. The only thing my brain is reminding me of is that death this way can be very peaceful if you pass out quick enough.
“Look at me!”
I scream when my body is hit with something, pain blooming from my shoulder where the impact landed. I lift my head as best I can, but the light is blinding and I’m weak. I don’t want to get hit again, and I’m willing to do whatever they want for that not to happen.
“Open your eyes!”
I try, but my body won’t allow it with the strength of the light shining directly at me.
When something else is thrown at me, hitting me in the shin this time, I try to curl into myself, an attempt to make their target smaller. The objects continue to rain down on me, jolting me over and over, pain searing through parts of me I couldn’t feel before because of the cold.
One twist away from the damage being caused, lands me on my side, the chair I’m in toppling over. Unlike what I’ve seen in movies, the action doesn’t split apart the chair, making my tied hands free.
It leaves me sobbing and in more pain from the impact to my shoulder than I felt sitting upright.
“Oh no, you don’t,” the person whispers, and I realize it’s a woman.
Falling over made them put down whatever they were using to disguise their voice.
I still don’t recognize it, but I’ve come into contact with hundreds of people while working.
When I’m approached, the light behind them casting a shadow over me, I try to get a look at them, but dark fabric covers my head. She grunts and complains about my weight, but finally manages to sit me back up. The shadows disappear, replaced once again by the blinding light, only now it’s only a ring around the dark, stuffy fabric around my face.
I try to shake it off, but it remains in place, threatening to suffocate me.
Despite the temp of the room and the water sprayed on me, I can feel my skin starting to bloom with sweat. My heart kicks up even higher, causing a stinging pain in my chest as my breaths come out in ragged puffs only to rush right back at me because the air has nowhere to escape.
I know the signs of a panic attack. I had them when I was younger. I know how bad they can get. I know passing out is coming next, and that brings on the fear of dying, of things being done to me while unconscious. Things in my mind begin to narrow, growing tunnel-like even though my vision is obstructed. But before my head dips with loss of consciousness, I’m hit again with another stream of frigid water, snapping me back to alertness. It also helps to stave off the signs of the panic attack that was looming.
The woman continues to rant, the sound of her voice pacing back and forth in front of me. Her words make no sense, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m fading in and out, or if she’s just so crazed herself that she isn’t speaking in complete sentences.
“And they’ll never find your body!” she roars, the impact of something against my chest making me cry out. “You’re going to die toni—”
A crash echoes around the room seconds before a rush of noise I can’t identify. It takes long seconds for me to realize that I’ve been found. Someone is rescuing me.
“Put it down!” a man yells. “Drop the gun!”
Despite knowing how bad it’s going to hurt, I tilt to the side once again, falling over because I know getting hit with a bullet will hurt much more if they start flying.
The wind is knocked out of me on impact, but I can still hear the discharge of a gun.