'Its a good thing I’m not afraid of the dark,' she thought dryly. She was assuming she was in the backseat of this fucker’s truck. She knew she was scared but honestly she was too pissed off to let her mind react the way it should. All she could think about it how worried Chance would be. Yes it kind of really sucked she got kidnapped. She could feel her body shaking in terror about what was waiting for her once the truck stopped moving. Her whole body ached from the honestly pitiful fight she had put up. She should've gotten away. It was really disappointing from an abstract point of view, she was taken because she was a failure. Unable to even resist more than a few shouts and some limb flailing. When she woke back up, she felt a warm liquid slowly trailing down her neck. She tried to lick her lips but there was some sort of gag in her mouth, probably a T-shirt. The mans punch had surely split her lip or tore some skin because she was almost sure it was blood that had dried in an annoyingly itchy trail down her skin. Her hands were tied behind her back with what felt like a zip-tie and there was yet another cloth covering her eyes.
Who knows how long she was out, she no longer had any concept of time. She couldn't feel the heat from the sun radiating through any windows, but that didn't mean anything. They could be tinted or covered up. He may not even have windows in the back of this stupid fucking truck, she couldn't remember. She thought it would be a much smarter approach if she did not let the man know she was conscious again. So she sat silently, listening to his rough voice sing along to the hit country radio station. Of course she had to be kidnapped by a hick. Chance was all she could think about, after the initial panic for her own safety of course. The way he had tore after her, trying to do the best he could and save her, not even caring for his own safety. Yet she knew, he would blame himself. This country-ass had not only injured her quite a bit by knocking her unconscious, but prevented her from knowing what happened to Chance. Did he run for help? Did he get a few good shots at the man? Was he even alive? Yes. He was alive. She felt it, he had to be. However, not knowing what would become of her would probably kill him anyways. The panic was building up inside her and she was struggling to keep it in. She had never been one to be capable to soothe herself. The anxiety was crawling up her throat, threatening to take control. Now more than ever, she tried to exercise what little ability she had in relaxing. No panicking. That was a sign of weakness if there ever was one.
She slowly allowed her mind to drift into a dream state, drowning out the sad excuse for music, where she replayed her favorite memories of Chance. The thought of him made her so happy she almost forgot where she was. Almost. Minutes, maybe hours later, the sudden jolt from the breaks completely submerged her back into this horrible reality. The vibration that she had adjusted to stopped suddenly. The metallic sound of keys, a click, movement, a screech from an old door of this stupid truck. They were obviously at their end destination. Moist heat flooded the air conditioned cab of the truck, they must be somewhere overly warm and humid. All of the calmness left her body in one sudden moment as she felt a rough, callused hand close around her thigh. Now she panicked.
The fight that she had put up when she was first taken was now back and ready for round two. She did her best to make as much noise around the gag as she could but really all that effort only earned her grunts. This did not discourage her however. Her hands were tied but her legs were not and so with all the force she could muster, she wildly kicked and swung her limbs into every direction possible. They flew through empty air at first but the finally she landed a good shot. The man must have leaned closer to try and get a grip on her but that was his mistake, she felt hard bone through her shoe and heard a loud string of curses. Hopefully, that was his jaw or perhaps his nose. Either way, the sickening crunch that came from the impact made her chest swell with pride and hope.
“Dumb fucking bitch,” she heard as the man recovered. It sounded nasally. Ha. Maybe she broke his nose. Gravel crunched quietly and the sound of his heavy breathing faded. He had walked away. Now was her chance. She twisted and writhed her body, slowly sliding out the open door. Turning onto her stomach, she kept wiggling until her feet touched solid ground. She took a couple quick steps to the side to avoid the door and began blindly running as fast as she could.
'What a sight I must be,'under different circumstances she might have chuckled.
She heard the man’s angry shouts not far behind her so she tried to pick up the pace but without eyes or arms, she was afraid to lose her balance and fall. Faintly there was a sound she didn’t recognize at first. Kind of a click but more than that. Sort of like someone was loading a...
'Oh god.'
She quit running and dove for the ground, rolling several feet to the side. She did so just in time. A deafening shot rang through the air. Her jaw slackened as she tried to scream but only a pained whimper came out. Her ears vibrated inside and out and she could swear liquid was running down one of them. Gravel splashed up and hit her in the face. The man had a gun and he was not afraid to use it. She imagined the spot where she had just been standing. She laid completely still in submission. Her ears were still ringing violently but she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on the quieter noises around her. Gravel crunching, footsteps. Closer and closer. She felt his presence looming over her. Her breaths were coming hard and fast now and she was shaking so hard it hurt. A sudden burst of pain in her ribs made the air leave her lungs and she folded in on herself. She contorted into a ball and tried to gasp for air. He had kicked her in the ribs, possibly breaking one or two.
She felt the toe of his boots nudge her in the shoulder, he kicked her lightly, enough to flip her over on to her back. Her ribs ached and she felt her shoulder strain since she was now laying on her arms at an extremely painful angle. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her forward so she was sitting up, and again until she bent completely in half. Her nose brushed against the ground as she whimpered from the pain burning through her muscles as he held her in this position. She bent her legs and pushed them under her slowly so she was now sitting on her knees. This seemed to be what the man wanted because he then let go of her hair. He walked to the front of her and leaned in close. His hands reached around and found the knot of her blindfold. He pulled roughly, her head snapping back and forth as he hastily took off the damn thing. It was dark, they were in a parking lot, doors surrounded them. A motel? She looked at her aggressor and he was smiling coyly at her.
He leaned in even closer, close enough she felt his rough patchy skin drag against hers. “You will do nicely,” his hot breath on her ear made her cringe in disgust. His slimy mouth closed around her earlobe for a moment, which was a far more disturbing feeling. He pulled away and grabbed one of her arms, hauling her with him. His gun was in his other hand so she did as he wanted her to. She forced her feet to move as he lead her across the parking lot towards one of the doors. ‘18’ was printed on the old shabby wood in a fading red. “Don’t move,” He ordered as he released his grip on her arm. Surely there would be small bruises to mark where his fingertips had dug into her soft skin. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a key, sliding it into the door and turning it. A click was heard and he pushed the door open.
The man shoved her inside and she fell on the bed that was just inside the door. She moved to stand up but as soon as the door slammed she felt his hands on her shoulders, keeping her bent over the bed. Her eyes were wide with fear but no one was there to see it. She knew that, at this point, there was nothing she could do. She had been foolish to not consider this course of action in the truck, not even slightly grasping the severity of her situation. She would never be able to wash off the feeling of his hands, on her back, in her hair, on her hips. She cried out in agony through the gag in her mouth over and over again, as he was not gentle with her in any way. He paid no mind to her gargled begs and pleads of protest, if anything, they seemed to exhilarate him even further. It was not a quick process, she had no idea how long he spent holding her down as she begged for mercy, that she knew deep down, would never come. She did not know how many times his sweaty chest pressed against her back when he leaned down to whisper in her ear, gasping profanities that he probably meant as compliments. When it was finally over, she was left, trembling, naked, and aching in the bed, her hands cuffed above her head, and the man sleeping soundly to her left.
She knew she had a choice to make. She could try, she could fight, she could have hope and resist him, every chance of escape that was presented to her, she would take it. She knew this would be the rough path, for there were always be a consequence if she failed. Or, she could quit. She could submit, accept that this was her life now, let go of all hope because hope would more than likely lead to failure. Her life, even this miserable one, would be better if she just did whatever he wanted. After one night, she realized, she never was a fighter.