No One Believes Me

Untitled Part 1

Copyright © 2021 JD Leigh

All rights reserved.

Dany wakes up in a fog. She is disoriented and struggles to focus as her eyes flutter in the dark. The smell of spicy food, stale cigarette smoke, and sweat fusing in the air. She is cold, so cold, shivering. She reaches for what she assumes will be the covers to her bed and realizes her hands won't move. She pulls at them a second time only to feel the searing pain from whatever it is holding them together behind her back. What the hell? Why are my hands tied? Where am I? Panic begins to take over. Dany struggles a third time to free herself but the pain around her wrists stops her cold. What is the last thing I remember? Where was I? Who was I with? Don't panic. Think. Think dang it! She starts slowly moving her shoeless feet to feel where she might be, still unable to see in the darkened room. Her foot reaches the end of what she assumes to be a bed, swings her legs over the edge and sits up. Her head swoons, she begins to sweat and feels as if she may pass out. Breathe. The stale smell of smoke overwhelms her senses and makes her even more nauseous and she feels as if she may vomit. No, don't throw up. Please don't throw up. It's futile, she cannot hold it in and she vomits in her lap and it splatters on the floor. She heaves a second time and as she does a door swings open and light blinds her. She squints to see a large figure standing in the doorway but cannot make out it's face. The figure looks male. She heaves a third time and the figure yells back to someone unseen, "she's throwing up."

A second figure comes into the room, heavy-footed and quick paced; shoulder bumping the person still standing in the doorway. "Move dammit! I knew she was gonna be trouble," the second figure says as he moves toward her. He has something in his hand, something Dany can't make out until it is too close; a syringe.

"No, please." she pleads uselessly as the needle is viciously jabbed into her arm. The last thing Dany hears is figure one saying, "but what if she chokes on her vomit?"

"Who the fuck cares. Clean that shit up." and everything fades to black.

Dany begins to stir. Her body feels heavy, as do her eyelids as she strains to focus on the room that is lighter now. Her hands still tied behind her back, wrists aching, but her clothes have been changed. She looks down and thinks the worst, have I been raped? She tries to move toward the edge of the bed, but her body feels heavy, as if moving through thick mud. The room is spinning, head pounding, her stomach again nauseous. Move slower this time. Dany scoots to the edge of the bed and puts her feet on the floor then slowly sits up. A sliver of sunlight shimmers across her feet, dust particles floating through the air as if it were an average sunny day. But it is not. The wave a nausea is less intense this time. Breathe. Focus. Where am I?

Her head stops spinning, the nausea fades and she tries to quietly stand. It takes a minute to get her bearings. She looks around for anything that can tell her where she might be. She is in an average bedroom with only a bed and a dresser. She can hear faint sounds coming from the door. Is someone on the other side? Are they waiting for me to wake? To come out? Who are they and why am I here? Knowing this cannot be good, Dany quietly takes a step towards the window. Perhaps there is a street sign outside or something that will help me figure this out. As she nudges forward, the floor creaks and she stops. She waits; standing as still as a statue. No one comes so she moves closer to the window. She takes a look outside and has no idea where she is and doesn't see any street signs.

Focusing back on the room, she begins looking around for something to cut the ties on her wrists. The room is empty but for the bed and dresser. Panic starts to set in. Don't panic. That is not going to help. Think. What did I see on the show where the girl was kidnapped. Wait, am I being kidnapped? Why? And then her worst fears, up until this point, are replaced with much more sinister thoughts. Am I going to be killed? Am I being held for ransom? Am I being trafficked? Is my mother looking for me? I want to go home. I want to survive. I have to survive.

Dany walks back to the edge of the bed and sits down. She still feels sick and the raunchy smell of stale smoke and men's sweat hang in the air. This place cannot be good. I have got to get out of here. Think. Think. Think. Just then she hears footsteps moving toward the door. She quickly lays down and pretends to be asleep. The door opens. The footsteps move closer. She braces for a shove, a slap, or something she cannot even imagine in her fifteen-year-old mind; when a hand softly brushes the hair from her face. She feels the covers being pulled gently over her body, as if a mother were tucking her child into bed for the night. She hears from somewhere down the hall, "Mug, get out here!" and the footsteps move quickly away from her, out the door, and it closes softly.

Dany opens her eyes, stunned by the strange encounter. Why would a kidnapper be nice to me? Is it someone I know? Is someone playing a sick joke on me? I have got to get out of here. Dany sits up and heads back towards the window. She is on a second story. If I can get out this window, I think I can jump. As escape is running through her mind the door swings open, "I told you she wasn't still asleep," figure two says walking towards her. He grabs her by the elbow and walks her to the bed, "sit down."

"Who are you?" Dany asks. "What do you want from me?"

"I'll ask the questions. What is your name?"

Dany isn't sure if she should give her real name or not, but she doesn't want to make this guy mad, so she does. "Dany, Danielle, but Dany for short." She shakes her head still in a fog.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Who do you live with?"

"My mom."

"Where's your dad?"

Dany drops her head and lowers her voice. "Dead."

"Brothers or sisters?"

"No."

"What does your mom do? Are you rich?"

"No. She's in sales. Who are you?" Dany asks.

"Don't worry about who I am. Mug will take care of you while you're here." He points to figure one standing near the door.

"How long will I be here?" Dany asks cautiously not sure if she wants the answer.

"I don't know. But if you don't give us any trouble, we won't hurt you. Got it?"

"I got it. What are you going to do with me?"

"No more questions." He says curtly. "Remember what I said, don't give us any trouble."

"Ok. I won't." Dany says hoping they stick to their end of the deal. Figure two, still unnamed, walks over to Dany and unties her hands. She quickly draws her raw wrists up too her chest.

"By the way, that window is nailed shut. You can't get out of it, so don't even try."

"I won't." She shakes her head and both figures walk out of the room.

Dany scoots back on the bed and leans against the headboard. Wrists bloody and sore, she looks at them and thinks, this is the least of my worries. How am I going to get out of here? I'm glad they don't plan on hurting me. Can I trust them? Do I have a choice? Of course I have a choice! Choose to survive Dany. You will find a way out of here. Will I? Does mom even know I'm gone? She begins to remember what she was doing before all this must have happened. Mom thinks I'm staying at Katie's tonight. I even texted her to tell her I was already there and would see her in the morning. Why did I do that? Why didn't I just tell her I was going to meet Bill? Where is my phone? Ok, slow down. Think. I'm scared. I'm so scared. And tears run down Dany's face as the weight of her predicament sets in.