2
Harlow
When I came to, I didn’t understand what was happening.
It wasn’t just that I felt disoriented. My body was fighting what was happening to it, and I woke up retching. Motion sickness. I was in a moving vehicle, and I felt woozy and panicked, my throat tasting like acid and my stomach doing somersaults from pure instinct, one word reverberating through my whole body and alerting me to the hopelessness of my situation.
Danger! Danger! Danger!
I was in the trunk of a car. It was tiny and cramped, and my body was forced into an unnatural position that made my limbs ache. I felt like a fish packed into a can, bent out of shape and struggling to breathe through the tape that had been plastered over my mouth. My breaths were quick, scared and panicked, but I forced myself to think straight. There was a small light on in the trunk, and it illuminated enough to tell me where I was. The car was moving, speeding, and the road was bumpy. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but my head hurt, pounding with an insistence that threatened to split my skull open.
The vehicle kept moving, and I tried to get myself into a comfortable position and stop the waves of nausea washing over me. My wrists and ankles had been tied with thick, scratchy rope. It bound me so tightly there was no hope of breaking free, no way of getting out of my binds. But I kept trying, clawing away at the thick knots and hoping to God I’d break free. The only thing I managed to achieve was to break nail after nail, and I let out a muffled cry of frustration.
My personality took a backseat to the situation I was in. I was no longer bratty, or selfish, or hopeful. All that mattered was survival, getting out of there alive, and running away from the man who had taken me in the dead of night.
It was hard to remember the details, and I had no idea how much time had passed since he’d snatched me out of that alley. My head felt thick like it was filled with cotton wool, and the overwhelming urge to panic was making it hard to think. But I needed to focus. I needed to figure out a way out of there.
Soon, I realized the ropes would be impossible to undo without a knife. I’d kicked the trunk, but it was locked, not just closed. Then I figured my best bet would be to fight the second the trunk opened. I would kick and scream through the tape, I would make so much noise it would be impossible to miss me. Sooner or later, maybe my kidnapper would have to stop for gas. I decided I’d start making noise the second I heard voices around me.
The thought made me laugh feverishly, no sound coming out through the tape. How was this real? Surely it was nothing but a nightmare, surely, I was going to get out okay. Surely. Surely. Surely.
The car kept moving, and my nausea got worse. I used to get travel sickness in cars all the time and this time it came back in full force, knotting my stomach and filling me with despair and fear. The drive felt endless. I tried counting the seconds, but they blended into minutes, then what felt like hours. I needed to pee so badly. My legs hurt from being tied up, and I felt the first tears falling down my cheeks. I tried to battle them desperately, knowing I couldn’t give in yet. I needed to fight.
Eventually the car came to a stop. I listened with bated breath as the driver’s door slammed shut, but there were no voices around, and I didn’t want to waste my breath unless I heard someone nearby. If we were alone, I’d benefit more from staying still and quiet, pretending I was still drugged. Then I could surprise my kidnapper when I attacked him.
It took ages for me to hear footsteps on gravel. I heard the sound of the trunk unlocking and shut my eyes as tightly as I could. And then, the trunk flew open.
The tension was incredible, my body pounding with adrenaline and the need to run away. But I could barely move. I pretended to be as lifeless as possible as a pair of rough hands grabbed me, hauling me out of the trunk and onto the ground. I hit the gravel with a thud, wincing but biting my tongue so I wouldn’t scream out loud.
“I know you’re awake,” that deep dark voice told me, and my eyes shut tighter. “You can stop pretending now.”
I lay there motionless, hearing him chuckle above me.
“That’s fine, have it your way,” he said. “Just one thing, my little one. You keep your eyes closed, this is your last chance to see me. I won’t be the one to rape you. I won’t hold you after. I’ll just watch you being brutalized.”