Kidnapped

The metallic scent of blood filled the air. I wasn’t sure but I think it’s mine. My sight was blocked with a harsh cloth. My hands stung, they were roped to the chair. I yanked, trying to free myself, but found I was unable. This is my life now.

“This marks our one year anniversary of running,” His voice, his voice was all I’ve heard. I haven’t seen anything and I wanted to hurt him. He trapped me here. At first, I would struggle, now I’ve given up. Hands reached around me, brushing my cheek. He untied the blindfold and I saw the world for the first time in a year. In front of me stood him, John.

I remember a time before this. When we were happy. I used to be married to John. Then he started hitting me, abusing me, and when I worked up the courage to call the police he tied me up and ran away with me. We had two kids, my darling angels. Their names were Irene and Apollo, like the gods. John told me they were being held in foster care until they found me.

I looked down at myself. The night we left I was wearing a blue shirt and some khakis. I still am except now they are torn with blood streaking out over them. I knew I was hurt, but I don’t remember it. It’s like my brain blocked out the painful parts.

John took out his pocket knife and cut my ropes. Then he threw me a mirror, some clothes, and makeup.

“We are going out to eat,” He said coming close to me. Then he pressed the knife against my neck, “If you even dare thinking about escaping,” The knife broke the skin and blood trickled down my neck, “I will catch you, or even better I will get the kids.” I gulped and nodded. Then he opened the door and left.

I appeared to be in some sort of small trailer. I think it’s one for transporting animals. I looked at the clothes he supplied me. Long pants, long sleeves, even though it’s warm my cuts cannot be seen. I used my old clothes as bandages then spent a good ten minutes covering up the cuts and bruises. I feel like an advertisement for domestic abuse. You saw me before, with cuts and bruises. Then how I could easily hide it. A startlingly loud knock made me drop the things I held.

“Let’s go,” John said, and I stepped out of the trailer with my head down. Outside I saw the night sky full of tiny stars that I missed so much. We were going to a small fast food place, but anything was better than that cold trailer. It was attached to a store so I looked over to John.

“Can I have two dollars to get a newspaper,” My voice was quiet, timid, and scared. Nothing like the loud, confident, businesswoman I was before. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the money, making sure to flash me the knife he had in his pocket. I scurried into the story and quickly got the paper. Headlines flashed across my sight, it felt so good to read again.

We Are Still Looking

Exactly a year ago a mother named April Smith was taken

By her crazed husband. After a year of searching the children still haven’t given up hope. Apollo, her youngest, age 8, said: “I will never give up until I find my mom.” Irene, her daughter, age 14 said, “Mom, if you’re reading this we are going to find you, but we need help. Please do something for us.”

The kids are currently living with the mother's sister as they wait for her long awaited return. The sister said, “I knew that man was trouble, but she insisted she could change him. I hope he gets caught and put in jail forever. These children are precious and even she could see that.”

The children are the best in their classes and claim it is because they want their mom to be proud when she returns. Even to this day, the police are looking as no body has been found to determine her death.

Thousands of people have volunteered to help this family and their search. People everywhere are looking, along with doing other things to help them survive. Tonight is a tragic night and we are praying she is recovered soon.

I smiled reading that my babies were looking for me. Then an idea struck. I grabbed a pen off a shelf in the store. I circled April Smith, then crazed husband, and finally, need help. Then I returned the paper to the cashier.

“What are you doing?” He said confused and I put one finger over my lips. I pointed to the column on me and then walked away. “Wait for ma’am,” He said and I turned, “Thank you and have a nice night,” Then I saw him pick up the phone.

John was waiting outside with a bag of food. He’s trying to limit the number of people that see us. I walked up the trailer and stepped inside. He set the bag inside then shut and locked the door. I reached in my pocket looking at the one thing I grabbed before leaving the store. I ripped off the picture of my babies. I needed to see them now because tonight may be when I die.

Sirens echoed outside the trailer. I would give anything to stand up and look, but John restrained me again, this time to the wall. I heard them get closer and closer until they were yelling for John to pull over. He wouldn’t though, John will never give up. The car jerked back and forth as he tried to dodge the cops.

“No!” The police yelled through the speaker and suddenly I felt I could fly. Then my heart plummeted. I was going to die. We weren’t flying, we were falling. We hit something, but nothing smashed. Water, I was going to drown. I remembered a memory long before this. I remember being with John in a park one day.

“What do you think is the worst way to die?” I said smiling at him. We were in love then and this question meant nothing.

“Well that’s a morbid question,” He laughed, I loved his laugh, “I would have to say, umm, burning. What about you?”

I answered within a second. I was a morbid person and I had thought of this kind of thing. “Drowning, just the thought of losing something so essential. Feeling my lungs scream for something I knew inside I wouldn’t get.”

He remembered, I thought and struggled harder against my bonds. Deep gashes bleed thick blood as the ropes burned through my wrists and ankles. The ropes wouldn’t give though. Sirens continued to echo through the air and I heard people calling for me to hang on.

I looked down at my feet seeing the water pool below me, my blood flowing through it. Time seemed to slow down and I wondered how it got to this. I remembered happy picnics with John, bowling, watching movies, and caring for our two kids together. Then I remembered our first fight.

“You can’t keep doing this!” I screamed at him, “You have to help care for our kids! Stop acting like you are only in this family for me!” He had come home late smelling strong of alcohol, “You promised to pick up the kids, but instead you just left them there! I have to work, I can’t keep running back and forth between the school and my work!” His face remained still as if he didn’t care that I was at a breaking point.

“That’s exactly it though,” He said calmly with biting words, “I’m only here for you. I hate those stupid brats you call kids and I will not apologize for not picking them up.” My blood boiled at what he said about our, no, my children. I raised my hand slowly and slapped him across the face, leaving a red mark. His eyes turned dark and he punched me in the gut.

“Don’t ever hurt me again April.” He said before leaving my curled up on the floor crying.

I struggled to breathe thinking it was the pain in my gut, but instantly realized it was because my mouth was full of water. I blamed myself for being here. Perhaps if I had called for help when it first began I wouldn’t be here. I knew I wouldn’t have left though. He threatened to hurt everyone I cared about. I couldn’t, wouldn’t risk that. I thought about the day I tried to escape him with regret.

“Get out,” I said thrusting his suitcase at him, “I will not tolerate your presence any longer.” He had quit his job that day so I was finally able to kick him out. “I am paying for this house, therefore, it is mine!” My voice was cold and raw. “Our children should not have to see you this way. You are always drunk and I am sick of it.” He stepped closer and hugged me. I should’ve pushed away, called the police. When I didn’t he grabbed my hands, wrapping rope tight around them. He knew I wanted out and had prepared to take me with him. That’s how I got here.

 I struggled painfully, longing to reach the top of the trailer, where the last of the air was. Nothing worked though and slowly my lungs started to scream. I had imagined this for years in my nightmares, but I never pictured this pain. My struggling became weaker and more frantic until I felt the pain start to subside. The edges of my vision blurred and slowly faded to black.