by Lucy Wild
All the time that was happening, I was lashing out, clawing with my nails, doing my best to break free from the insanely strong grip of whoever had grabbed me. A drawstring on the bag over my head was tugged tight and I found myself fighting for breath, half choked as I was dragged out of the bathroom onto the landing. I was thrown to the floor, landing with a heavy thud. I twisted to crawl away but whoever it was leapt on me, wrapping something cold and plastic round my wrists. There was a clicking sound and then my hands were stuck together. No amount of pulling could separate my arms.
The same was done to my thrashing ankles. They were tied in plastic something that clicked tighter until I was trussed up and unable to fight. Ten seconds ago I’d been humming in the shower. The song hadn’t even finished. Now I was bound in two places, unable to see, barely able to breathe, being dragged naked down the stairs into the hallway, my skin stinging from where the carpet rubbed along it. It was all I could do to breathe, my nostrils pressed against the bag, bile rising up inside me as the pain of the blow wracked my body.
I was still fighting to catch any kind of breath when I was moved again. I had no idea what was happening at the time but afterwards I was able to work out what he’d done. He took me through the door in the kitchen that led into my garage. Then he bundled me into the boot of my own car. As the boot slammed shut and I was left alone in a silent darkness, any hope that I had vanished. I was being kidnapped from my own house and no one would know where I was.
In the muffled coffin-like prison I was trapped inside, I could do nothing but rock my feet to thud against the side of the boot over and over until I fell onto my back, exhausted, in pain, terrified beyond belief. I was so scared I couldn’t even cry. But as the engine of the car rumbled into life, tears began to fall of their own accord, soaking the cloth of the bag. With a shuddering motion, the car began to move, driving out of the garage and onto the street, leaving my house, my phone, my hope, all far behind me.
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LUCY WILD
Lucy Wild is an author living in Yorkshire with her partner and their border collie in a house full of books, sweets and more books.
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