Close to Her

Chapter 4

I was frozen in place while everything around me was rampant. I was trying to process what was happening over and over again. Nothing was "wrong" with me; only the feeling of everything around me float by and cloud up as I got trapped in my own thoughts.

"Ms. Carter," "Ms. Carter," the woman repeated.

The woman stood before me with both her hands wrapped around the canes of a wheelchair I assume is for me. She made her way around the chair and stood before me holding out both her hands signaling for me to stand up.

I had no idea what was happening. People get abducted every day, human trafficking exists on every continent in the world. I could end up auctioned and exploited. Although the mere thought of getting trafficked was petrifying, this didn't seem to be a random kidnapping. A kidnapper wouldn't have gone through the trouble of chasing me. Before I could exasperate my brain again, the women's voice broke my concentration.

She wheeled the chair closer to the bed and progressed beside me.

"I can walk," I told the woman.

"Are you sure dear? Your wound is still healing."

"I'm sure," she nodded and gave me a polite smile.

I gripped the side rail of the bed and stood up slowly, careful not to put too much weight on my left leg. The woman held an arm out towards me and nodded reassuringly, I took her arm and stood upright meeting her gaze.

"Thank you, Ms..."

"Oh no" she shook her head, "just Helen, call me Helen."

"Thank you, Helen" I revised, following with a weak smile.

Helen guided me around the bed leading me to the doorway. I was dressed in the same clothing I last remember wearing. The end of my shorts met the top of the gauze that wrapped the wound on my thigh. She opened the door to a view of an enormous staircase.

The cold air penetrated my skin once she opened the door. This place was terribly cold sending shivers down my spine. This type of cold was sinister, like something viscous coated the air leaving an unsettling impression on anyone that resides.

I took in the atmosphere when we stepped before the staircase. The ceiling was incredibly high with a chandelier glistening in the center. The walls were a charcoal grey color complementing the black flooring. The stair steps were steep and relatively wide, and there was a glass railing on either side of the staircase, along with a black bar framing the glass. I probably should've used that wheelchair.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs I was breathing heavily and panting for air like I had just run a mile. Helen looked at me with a sorry expression, "Is everything ok," she questioned.

"Yes," I assured her after I regained my composure.

"Alright then, this way." She grinned and led me into a grand living room that had a massive grey leather couch and a ridiculously large flat-screen TV in the wall. "Have a seat here, Mr. Vitale will be with you shortly." She seated me on the couch cautious of my injury and left the area disappearing into the dark interior.

*****

I only waited ten minutes before two large men dressed in black suits with white shirts entered the living space. I could see the pistol tucked into both of their attire and one of the men had an earpiece. They looked identical to the men who shot me, but I couldn't quite remember their faces from that day.

I stood up hoping to look intimidating but was defeated when the instant pressure on my leg made me stagger backward almost tipping me over right before I caught myself and adjusted my stand.