I had been kept in this room for over four hours. Believe me when I say I had tried to sleep, but my terror of hearing that door open was too big to let me even close my eyes. Since my eyes were covered with a handkerchief, and I couldn't see, my hearing had become slightly better. Maybe it was the Adrenalin allowing me to hear so well, or maybe it was just the loss of one sense, and the gain of another. Between the four hours and counting of me being stuck in this room, with my hands and feet tied, I have been thinking of escape attempts. But all of my ideas only mocked me.
I thought I would never get home.
The door opened, and I suddenly turned my head toward it. I felt myself beginning to tremble, and I felt the warm sting of fresh tears starting. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, silently praying for God to help me. Two sets of footsteps neared me, and I felt more scared than before. I'll get through this, I thought, but no matter how many times I said this, I couldn't convince myself.
As the footsteps stopped beside me, one man at my left and one man behind me, I lowered my head and trembled. I suddenly got a warm thought. Since they hadn't let me see their faces, maybe they would let me go! If I begged enough.
"Do you want me to beg?" I asked, my voice worn out, and obvious terror on my tongue.
One man behind me laughed, and stroked my hair. "If you want to, you can. It just makes our work more amusing." The man beside me chuckled, leaned down, and spoke in my ear with a sadistic tone in his voice. "Sweet heart, you'll never get home. You'd just rat us out. And then we would have to get a new play toy."
I tensed and whimpered. "Please, I havn't seen your faces, let me go home. My family-"
"Isn't going to care that you're gone," He finished my sentence, but that wasn't what I was going to say. I raised my head and looked up toward him, with my eyes still covered. He spoke again,
"Why do you move your head, if you can't see?"
The man behind me replied to him, "She's hoping you'll take it off." He laughed at me and pulled my hair, making my head lean back. I felt a soft hand brush my cheek, then a hard slap was followed by it. I flinched and whimpered. My cheek was still sore from the last slap I'd had.
The man beside me laughed. "John, don't ruin that pretty face."
So that man behind me was John. Now I had a name to my kidnapper. One of them, anyways.
I then felt a hand run up my shirt, and I tensed. His hand was freezing, and if I could have flinched away, I would have.
His hand then slipped back out of my shirt, and I felt a hard punch to my stomach. I gasped, and coughed. John, I presumed was the one, leaned down and bit into my neck. I heard a clatter of metal, and then a hard sting on my stomach. I screamed and tried to move. The more I moved, though, the more the trail of stinging flesh got wider and longer. I then felt a warm liquid on my stomach. Blood! They had cut my stomach open, and I then thought that moment was my last. John finally took his teeth out of my neck, I had forgotten he was there in my state of panic. He then ran his hand over the bite, and for a moment I thought he would slit my throat, but he just held my head in place by my chin. I felt the side of the knife run down my cheek, and I whined as I felt my blood from my stomach wipe off the blade, and on my cheek, and I then felt Johns tongue followed by it, licking the blood off. My heart hurt from how hard and fast it was pounding.
John spoke into my ear, "You'll soon beg us to kill you. But for now,"
He leaned down and I felt something pull at my stomach. He was stitching me up. Thank God. I would live another day.
After the number of hours they spent with me, as I drifted in and out of consciousness, I kept dreaming of being back home at my house. But I woke each time, before I got to see any of my family members. About the third time I woke up, I staid awake for a little while. I was regaining some strength. I heard John's accomplice speak.
"I hope she isnt dead. We always kill them the first time."
I felt a hard hand on my throat, checking for a pulse.
"She's fine," John replied.
"Oh, good. Hey I think she's awake."
I had made too much noise with my crying. I now wished I hadn't.
"She's awake all right."
"Take off her handkerchief, John. You said she had pretty little eyes."
"She does."
I then felt a pull at my handkerchief as he started to untie it. I closed my eyes tight. And I refused to open them. If I did, they would surely kill me.
I felt the cloth fall off my eyes and into my lap. John's accomplice sounded dissapointed. "Awe, her eyes are closed..."
I kept my eyes closed tightly and kept my head down. John spoke,
"If you don't open those eyes, I'll staple them to your forehead."
I knew he wasn't joking, but I was still too scared to open my eyes.
I heard a clatter of metal on metal again as he grabbed something from that dreaded metal tray.
"One..." He said, "Two..." I felt him tap my eyelids gently, and then felt the stapler on it.
I had no choice.
I opened my eyes.
