Emma
Blackness suddenly turns into a dull, grey light. My head is pounding, and I am incredibly disoriented. Where the fuck am I?
My sight is blurry, but wherever I am starts to slowly come into vision. I recognize the coral-colored blanket and the navy-blue seats.
Ginger.
It all comes rushing back to me. The whiskey’s, the spinning, the apology. I am in Ginger’s van. I come to realize that my hands are tied behind my back and my shoulders are aching. I pull hard against the wrist just in case Ginger managed to tie a loose knot.
It doesn’t work.
Okay, don’t panic.
I try to orient myself by looking out the windows. But it is pitch black, and not a single star is in the sky. There are no streetlights. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dark. As I do this, I can still put my phone in my back pocket.
Luke. Isaac.
My fingers are strained against my lower back, but I feel like I can bend them far enough to get the phone out. I manage with great effort.
It falls onto the blanket beside me, face down. I use my foot to flip it face up. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here or how much time I have, but I have to send out help fast.
I turn with my back to the phone and look over my shoulder. All I am able to press are the numbers 911, then send them out to Luke and Isaac. Christ I hope they can track me down. What the fuck is going on-
I hear someone coming. Their hand is on the handle of the van. Before Ginger can whip the door open I push the phone under the blankets. The door smashes open, and I see Ginger, wearing a black raincoat with the hood up. She is once again flashing that disturbing smirk.
“It’s time to get out bitch. Nap time is over.”
“Ginger what the fuck-”
Out of her pocket Ginger pulls a long, black, thick string. She pulls my head forward violently and aggressively wraps it around my mouth multiple times.
“That’s better, no one wants to hear you anymore. Now get out.”
She grabs me by the shirt and pulls me out of the van. I realize I am barefoot because my feet smack into a puddle. The rocks are sharp and push against my feet.
“Move. I’m not going to tell you again.”
Ginger is pushing me through a dark parking lot. After shoving me forward multiple times, she takes something out of her pocket. She pushes it lightly against my back. I grunt, feeling like something is dripping down my back.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that it is blood, and that what she just poked me with was a knife. I shudder, feeling panic run through my body like hot lava.
“Good girl, move a little faster. That’s right.”
I assume that she is still pointing the knife at my back as I move into a building that I do not recognize. It does not seem abandoned though, but not recently used. She leads me through a dark hallway and into what looks like an office space. Most of the desks and chairs are pushed off to the side.
But a single chair and a desk sits in the middle of the room. I can tell that the carpet is grey from what little light is trickling out from Ginger’s phone.
I can feel my arms and legs shaking, and barely have the ability to walk anymore. My feet are sore, and my head feels like I was smacked with a hammer.
As soon as I stop walking Ginger plows her foot into the back of my knees. I fall face first into the floor with nothing to stop me.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself from beneath the choke.
I think I can hear Ginger laughing as she raises both my ankles to tie them together. Once she finishes, she pulls me up roughly, then shoves me onto the chair. My face is scraped, and the tie around my mouth has moved onto my chin.
“What the fuck are youdoingGinger!? Are you fucking nuts?!”
Ginger is once again laughing. She leans forward on the desk in front of me, her nails digging into the wood.