"Somewhere Down the Path"

Chapter 3: A Questionable Place

  My body lets out a long groan. My muscles feel achy and I feel sluggish. And I immediately snap out of it and wonder where the hell am I? I could not recall what had happened earlier but then like a light bulb, my brain lit up and remembered someone made me pass out using a rag infused with chloroform most likely. I try to make an effort to stand up but end up toppling over only to find my ankles have been bound together with rope, same with my hands. I fidget and desperately try to somehow loosen the rope on my legs but it’s nothing but a futile attempt. I sigh a breath of disappointment and examine my surroundings. I look up above and see a clothes rack pole and automatically realize I’m in a closet. I see plastic hangers lacking clothing on the pole, and I see a cardboard box lying on a shelf at the top. It’s practically wrapped like a Christmas gift with gray duct tape. I really don’t want to question what could be inside at this point.

  I look straight ahead and see the plain white door with no knob on it. I kick my foot against the door in hopes that it’ll at least budge the door a tad bit. It was a mission unaccomplished. Any other girl in my position might start to tear up and start screaming for help but I’ve seen enough horror and thriller movies to know it’d be a signal for my death if I do any of that. I straighten my back up against the wall on the side of the closet. I try to stand up without falling over again. I carefully maintained my balance and stood on my own. Now, time to get this stubborn rope off without the aid of any sharp weapon or even my fingers. Plastic hangers would snap and bend almost immediately and probably poke my eye out if I even tried to use those. I quickly notice a metal hook near the top of the door. Yes! I just need to hop up and down a little and rip the rope off of my hands, and then I’ll be able to free my legs. I know deep down that this is a seriously risky thing to do since my attacker could barge in at any second after hearing any type of noise. But right now, I could care less. I just want to get out of here, and fast.

  I take a deep breath and exhale. I take a big hop and hook the loop of the rope on my hands onto the metal hook. I slowly walk backwards to try and pull or rip off the rope. No change. I twist the loop by completely rotating my body and yank down on it. The rope carefully comes to a tear and my hands are now free. I could almost jump with joy, but I think enough jumping has been done for today. I sit down on the floor and quickly work my fingers to untie the rope that has been restricting my mobility. With a few yanks here and there, the rope is undone and I have full control of all of my limbs again. I sink down to the floor with a blank expression on my face. I can move again but how do I get free completely? I look up at the box on the shelf. I reach up and bring the box down to the ground. At the very worst, it’d be severed heads or body parts of previous murder victims. If I could handle dissecting a dead frog in biology and witnessing the hit and run death of a stray cat, I think I can handle what I might see in here. Those weren’t human deaths but I still manage to keep my cool around the presence of death and gore. Okay, here goes. I carefully peel off all of the tape holding down the flaps of the box. I pull open the flaps to find a box full of firearms and ID cards of unfamiliar women, young in particular. I scrutinize all of the firearms carefully and almost pounce on the cold charcoal colored pistol lying in a corner of the box. Guns, they’re basically death in a small heavy metal bullet. I try to see if the gun is loaded or not but I am completely dumbfounded since I have no idea how to load a gun. I see this is my karma for telling my father action movies are dumb and will never benefit you in any way. Well played, karma well played.

   My mind is screaming to let myself out of here and make a break for it. I slowly position the gun in my hand in the shooting position after turning off the safety button. I aim for the door but crouch down in the corner of the closet to avoid any possible reflection of the bullet. I put both hands on the gun and let rip. I nearly fell over from the sound of the bullet hitting the door. I open my eyes and see a medium sized hole in the corner of the door. I panic and worry someone is out there and is on their way here. I keep the gun in my hands and prepare myself to shoot again. Only this time the bullet will be hitting someone’s organ rather than a door. After five minutes of no attacker showing up to whisk me away to my death I realize I might just be alone in this house or wherever I actually am. I crawl towards the door and try to peek out through the hole to scan the area for any person wandering around. Just before I think about trying to make another hole to try and yank the door open, my eyes spot a bulky man dressed in black headed towards the closet. I duck away from the hole and into the opposite side of where the door would open to. I prepare to shoot once again. Oh God, why is this happening to me, I should be in school not practicing my aim with a criminal who wants to do who knows what to me. Just breathe Claire, maybe he forgot you were in here or maybe he might let you go.