A Dark Love ✓

Chapter Three

Finally, my so-called flight lands.

I feel someone tugging at my hair. And it hurts. I want to yell. The person is pulling at my oh-so-gorgeous hair, after all. But all I am able to do is silently grimace. How can I do anything when my lips are tightly sealed together? How I wish I could speak right now, call for help, escape, or do anything.

Next, I get the feeling that someone just spanked my knee, as if signalling me to get out. So, I try getting myself out of the sack. Being in it, of course, feels pathetic. And from what I gathered during the whole ride, I assume I am better off not angering these people and following their orders as quickly as possible.

But with my hands and legs tied up, a simple task of getting out turns out to be one of the most complex jobs I have ever done. And yet, I try. Soon, with their help, I am out.

And frankly, despite of it being so pathetic staying in, if it had been upto me, I swear I wouldn't have come out. Because it really is scary. Being kidnapped like this. Being in such men's possession the way I am. With no thought as to what might happen next. No inkling about where I am. It is terribly scary. Scary to the bones. And yet, the itchy-sack and the thought of being tortured to death if I don't help myself compelled me to come out. The simple thought that if I don't co-operate, this might be the end of me.

But now that I'm out, I wonder what was the point of going through all this trouble? They had already blindfolded me, tied my hands and my legs, then why the sack?

Pretending to be typical kidnappers, are you now? But if that really was the case, then why didn't they use chloroform?

Well, not that I'm upset they didn't use it. I'm pretty much glad about it.

My cousin, a Science student, learnt in one of her practical classes, that the way they show the kidnapped person fainting in the movies after a cloth dripped in chloroform is put on them is not the actual way, that the whole process is a lot more painful.

At least, I didn't have to bear that ordeal. Though, this ordeal isn't much good, either. (Ordeal, after all.)

And I guess that I'm also glad about how I can find something to be glad about despite of the kidnapping.

Of course, better things can happen. For example, these guys can be someone's men and when they take me to their head, it turns out I'm the wrong girl.

Now, I wouldn't want some other girl to go through the same torture that I am going through. But I guess it's human psychology to be selfish in times of crisis.

Or, maybe their boss changes the idea of kidnapping such a sweet, innocent girl. Or, perhaps, things just change and I can escape and am finally free!

While I'm still sitting in the car, blindfolded and with my hands and legs tied up, I wait and think all these things up. Oh, it would have been so much better if I could just run. But I can't. And so, I just sit down and wait. Wait for them to do something. Wait for the unwanted thing that shall happen to me. The crappy tension trying to kill me.

Oh, how I wish they would do something, anything. But whatever they do, I hope they do it as quickly as possible.

The door had closed when they had got me out of the sack and placed me on the seat. I guess they are standing outside, debating on how to take me. Probably we just have to get inside a door, or something. Or, maybe we just have to get inside an elevator. I don't really know. Anything that I think now will be just a wild guess. And whatever the reality of all this will be, I just hope that it all gets down pretty early.

I'm simply thinking of a few more probable options that might be taking the delay when the door abruptly opens up. Followed by a blow of cool air.

"We'll help you get around, now." says the old, contempt filled voice.