I’ve been going through stages. First panic, then fear. Then I’ll start to reason with myself that I will find a way to escape until I’m calm again. Anger comes last, where I start to plan ways of defending myself until I’m filled with rage, and I’m imagining ways I’m going to kill whoever has me.
I go from feeling hot to cold in seconds, from crying hysterically to just rocking myself like some crazy person.
But right now, all I feel is paralyzing fear, unlike anything I’ve felt before.
I keep thinking that any second can be my last second.
I keep worrying that I’ll run out of air. What if I’m buried, and I don’t even know it!
I keep imagining dying in this black hole, and no one will ever know.
I hear a key rattle in the door and then light spills into the tiny room. A frightened yelp slips from my dry lips. I quickly scan my surroundings before the light is taken from me. It’s only gray walls, a gray floor, and gray ceiling. It looks like a tiny box.
Oh, God! They have me in some box. They’re going to bury me!
My chest starts to tighten, and it gets hard to breathe. I break out in a cold sweat, and my body starts to shake terribly.
I don’t want to die like this.
Hot tears spill over my cheeks, but I’m too scared to wipe them away.
The man standing by the door just stares at me, and it’s terrifying the crap out of me. He has a rough beard and shaggy, salt and pepper hair. He’s larger than the average man. Tall, broad and a stomach that tells me that he lives a comfortable life.
It takes me a moment to recognize him, but when I do, relief washes over me, and for a moment I fee
l faint and giddy.
“Mr. Attridge?” I croak, and then the tears come.
I struggle to stand, using the wall for balance. My legs are a trembling mess, threatening to give way any second.
He used to come over to our house all the time. He, Dad and Uncle Tom was real close before the accident.
But then he scowls at me, and he looks far from friendly now. It makes my moment of relief short-lived, and the tears dry right up as dread washes over me.
“Cara,” he says as he steps into the room. He closes the door, and I can’t see him anymore.
My heart rate spikes and I flinch when a match lights up the small space for an instant. The small flame makes eerie shadows jump and dance against the steel walls.
He lights a cigarette and then all that remains is the glowing red coal.
“Imagine our surprise when we saw you walk down the road there by Easy’s bar. You look so much like your mother. May she rest in peace.” He takes a drag, and the coal glows brighter, lending a creepy quality to the room. “Stupid changing your name to your mother’s. You made it so easy for us to find you.”
He takes another drag, lighting up his face again in a scary red glow.
“Yeah, that was a real stupid thing to do,” he whispers unnervingly making cold chills race up my spine. “So, unfortunately for you, we have a score to settle with your father.” I hear him spit. I’ve forgotten how deep his South African accent is. I don’t understand why he would be here.
I start to shake and fear swells in my chest until it suffocates me. “I don’t understand any of this!” I cry out when the fear becomes too much to bear.
“I know, my girl. I’m sorry, but it’s just the way things are. You know how it works. Children pay for the sins of their fathers.”
The door opens again, and three men come in. For a moment I can only make out their silhouettes against the sharp sunlight that’s streaming in behind them. One is holding a camera, and he fiddles with the thing until a red light starts to flash.
What the fuck do they need a camera for?
The other two move closer to me and my eyes dart to them.
Steven!