Conflicted

Chapter 1

Cara opened her eyes to nothing but darkness. Her long lashes struggling against the blindfold that covered her face. She sniffed and smelled blood, a lot of blood. Her ragged breath was the only sound echoing in the large, cold room. Her mind traveled down her arms to the ropes that bound them behind her back. She pulled on them, to no avail. The ground was like ice against her side and legs. Her feet were bare and cold.

Where am I? What happened?

She tried to remember something, anything. But she could only gather glimpses of faces, gunshots, and screams. Fanning out her fingers, Cara caressed the hard ground. Concrete. Panic took over her mind and body as she realized that she was alone and most definitely in danger.

The dress she was wearing was soaked from the knees down, and her feet felt grimy and dirty. She felt a flash of a memory. She was running through water, the slimy bottom of the stream squishing between her toes. Then it was gone.

I can't remember anything...

She laid there, her breathing starting to pick up pace. She mentally searched her body for wounds; besides a couple bruises, she felt okay. She was scared, hungry, and she needed to use the restroom. So many thoughts were racing through her mind. What was going to happen to her? She didn't want to die. She thought about trying to defend herself if she had to, but she didn't know if she could do it. After what felt like days, she heard footsteps echoing down a hallway, coming towards her. Thankfully, the logical part of her brain took over. Cara was a smart girl. She took deep breaths, slowing her heart rate and calming herself down. Next came the voices.

"How many did you manage to catch?" Voice number one said.

"Seven total. Two men and five women. This one, though, was extremely difficult," Voice number two replied.

"Difficult?"

"She put up one hell of a fight."

Maybe I can protect myself...

Cara heard a door open, and the footsteps came close. She sniffed again, and this time she smelled a mixture of sweat and cologne. Trying not to make any sudden movements, she held her breath. Cara knew she could not let her fear take over again.

"Is she still out?" Voice number one asked.

"I don't know." Voice number two kicked her in the thigh. Despite her efforts, Cara let out a tiny yelp of pain.

"She's awake," voice number two said as she felt strong cold hands grasp her upper arms and lift her to her feet, "We're walking."

Cara decided it was best not to struggle, and let the man lead her from the cold room into an even colder hallway. The ground was damp, and still she could smell blood, though she knew at this point that it was not her own. She was led outside, and she could hear the sounds of a busy city in the distance. She knew these sounds by heart. Living in downtown New York, Cara would know these sounds anywhere, but the sounds of New York had to be at least a mile away. The man walked her about 15 feet, then pushed her into a vehicle. She hit the floor and could tell that it was carpeted. Assuming she was in some sort of van, she quickly scurried her way to the side of the vehicle. But before she hit a metal wall, she found herself stumbling over a body.

The body whined and flinched away from her. Cara ducked to the side and hit the wall of the van. She heard the van doors close and the men walk around and get in the front seats. The engine rumbled to a start and she heard the men talking again, only this time it was muffled, as if there was a wall between the front and back of the van. Cara could hear breathing, and she assumed it was the person she had stumbled over.