Stolen

Chapter One

Suddenly a picture was held in front of my face. It was me, on my school ID that the guy was waving around.

"Kateri Dilov, ne?" he asked, completely butchering the pronunciation. "Like enterprise, Dilov?"

Crap, crap, crap. Of course they would know, we were in the friggin' Middle East, and my dad was associated with the gasoline industry. Crap.

The man caught my expression and he grinned. His breath flew at me and I smelled alcohol and something else strange and foreign. "You make me good money." he smiled and then he touched my chin. I wanted to bite him, and it almost seemed as though he had heard me because he pulled the gag off of my mouth.

"So pretty. Turkish?"

He softly touched my lips, and that's when I bit him. I bit hard, with the goal of breaking bones. He screamed in pain, causing two more men to run down the stairs to see what the commotion was about.

My attitude broke free. "You're not getting any of my money." I looked at all of them and said "Fuck you."

And that, of course, was the wrong thing to say.

The man who I just bit began yelling to his partners in some foreign language and three of them each ran to one of the women and began unchaining them. They tried to fight, but were helpless in the end. I watched as they were carried up the stairs, leaving me with the two remaining men.

Besides the man who I had just bit was another man, one who had just come down the stairs. He didn't really look like a man, his brown eyes were huge and his body broad yet wiry. He was definitely younger than the others, but I wasn’t sure how much. His scruffy goatee made him look somewhat older. It made me sick to see him there, someone my age actually believing that this was okay, that the crazy old man in front of me was fit to be a leader.

"You have annoying, bitchy attitude." the old man said, scratching at his beard. He said each word slowly, as if each one was meant to be a mental blow. It didn't work on me - I had enough people at school call me worse because of all the money I had and they were jealous of. I could handle a little talk from a foreign old man.

"And you have ugly, old-man face!" I shouted back, and this earned me a kick in the face. I screamed as the pain seared hot through my face. Black splotches clouded my vision and my hair, which had fallen forward, masked my face. I wanted to reach to tuck it behind my ear like I always did, but my hands were still bound.

The man grabbed me by the collar of my paisley vest and pulled me up so that I was now standing. My knees felt weak and the sudden movement made me dizzy, but I kept my composure and leaned against the wall for support. He let me go.

"You stand and wait." he said and then looked at the younger guy while shouting something in their foreign language. The guy nodded and to my surprise took a seat in a white lawn chair in the corner of the room. The old guy trudged back up the stairs and shut the door closed. It sounded like a metal door, because the sound was deep and resonated through the stone room.

That’s when I caught the eye of the goatee guy. He was staring at me, and as I followed his eyes I realized that he was looking me up and down, taking in my entire self. Embarrassed and angrily uncomfortable, I flopped down on the ground and gave him a cold stare. He didn't say anything, but kept his eyes glued on me.

Then I spoke. "Look, I don't know if you know English or anything, so I don't know if you know what I’m saying. You probably don’t since I bet that at the school you go to, all they probably teach is human trafficking and raping and suicide bombings and the like, so I doubt English is a required course..." I waited for some kind of retort, but his face was still as if I hadn't even said a word yet. "Right...so you don't understand me. Never mind then." I turned away, flustered. This was going to be difficult.

I was still angry, and I wanted to vent, and because I was tied up the only way to do so was with words, and the only person to direct them to was him, so I went on.

"You shouldn't listen to him, that fat, bearded guy." I said. "He's no good, and I don't know if he's your father or your uncle or your grandfather or your father in law or whatever, but he's just using you to get what he wants and I suggest you get out now, while you still can. And look at you - you're young and not too bad looking so you should leave and settle down somewhere nice, get a job, have kids. It's too late for beardy over there, but you, you still have a life." my hysteria was obvious, but I managed to say everything without my voice cracking.

The guy, however, didn't say a word.

"Fine." I said. "So you don’t speak English but you should at least know right from wrong! You-."

Just then Mr. Goatee stood, his plastic chair squeaking. I immediately stopped talking. He started walking towards me; I noticed that he was tall. Very tall, like 6 feet tall. Maybe it was just from where I was sitting, huddled against the wall. I also noticed that his hair was net black and that not even the dim lighting bounced off of it. It was eerie, but what did shine was his gold jewelry. The earring he wore as well as the rings and the chain were shining with a polish, but all it managed to do was make him a little creepier. He stopped right in front of me, and I tried not to show any fear as I met his eye. He was unreadable.

He leaned over, bringing his face close to mine. That's when I had to look away, because I couldn't pull from my bindings and I didn't want him to see my face etched with fear. His breath flew past the skin in my neck burning it, and I waited and silently prayed that he would disappear. I could sense his lips somewhere around my ear and waited for him. As soon as he kissed me, I would bang my head against his as hard as possible.

I waited for the slightest touch, but none came. Instead, he spoke.

"You talk too much, Kateri." his English was perfect and accent free. I sat dazed as he pulled away. He didn't meet my gaze but turned around and trudged up the stairs, leaving me to wonder by myself.