Hostage

by Carolyn Mitchell
4th December 2012

Something hit me hard across the face, something wet trickled down my forehead. Opening my eyes a crack, I could see a bright white light. I shut my eyes immediately; I groaned, I didn't want to get up yet. I tried to move my head away from the light, a fuzzy sound rang through my ears, I felt like throwing up. Great, I must have the flu or something. Deanna was going to be furious, I couldn't miss anymore days of work. I finally won the fight with my heavy lids and forced them open. I blanched. I wasn't in my lovely warm bed, I was tied to a wooden chair. The sticky substance that was dripping down my face was blood. I tried desperatley to move; to free myself. But it was no use, my hands were sore already from attempting to untie them. Red welts were appearing on my wrist and probably from the slap on my right cheek. Wait, the slap. Where did it come from? I looked around warily, my kidnapper must be here somewhere; where else would that hit have come from?

"Hello?" I called out hesitantly. "Is anyone there?" I waited, to see if there was an answer. There was none, I was about to call out again when a thick, heavy hand clamped around my mouth.

"Be quiet girl." A clammy voice growled from behind me, I strained to try and see my attacker's face, but it was impossible, the rope that wrapped around my neck, waist and elbows refrained me from too much movement without pain.

Suddenly, a knife appeared in front of me. I screamed. Blackness fell.

Comments

Gruesome.

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