by Amanda Perry
A giant oak tree shades most of the courtyard and is where I like to take my lunch. From here, I can’t smell the food in the cafeteria when I’m starving, and no one really notices me so I can relax without fear of being targeted. Reclining with my back against the base of the trunk, I take my notebook out and start on my homework from my morning classes. I need to have it all finished before school is over because I have a long shift at Joe’s tonight and I won’t be home until four in the morning.
While working on my calculus equations, goosebumps form on my arms and I can’t seem to shake the feeling of someone staring at me. My head snaps up and I scan the courtyard expecting to see other students milling around but it’s empty. I idly glance at the large clock on the main building and realize I’m running behind for class. Checking the area around me one final time, I quickly shove my things into my bag and rush to my next class.
Luckily, I make it to my seat before the bell rings. I forget about the strange feeling of being watched when the teacher starts talking to me.
“You’re lucky you weren’t late, Miss Harbor,” Mr. Morris scolds, giving me his meanest glare. “I would have had to give you detention. You should watch the clock next time.”
I want to remind him that I wasn’t late so his point is moot, but I have a feeling that will get me the detention he so desperately wishes he could hand me. So rather than getting myself into trouble, I nod my head as if I agree with him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Morris. It won’t happen again.”
The rest of the day goes quickly and before I know it, I find myself at Joe’s with my horrid powder blue uniform and an apron covered in soda and ketchup. Being a waitress in a big town has its perks in the form of tips. But it also has its downfalls in the form of rude customers and children who seem to be lacking manners or parents who give a crap.
“Yo, Julianne!” Joe calls out from his office in the back.
I turn his way and he uses his finger to motion for me to come to him. I comply and hurry over to him. We’re in the middle of a dinner rush, so whatever he needs must be important.
When I enter office, I lean against the doorframe, waiting for him to speak. He crosses his arms over his overly large stomach and stares at me for a moment. Finally, he lets out a sigh. “There’s no way to sugar coat this. I’m making cuts, Julianne. Our busiest season is over and I can’t afford all the people on my payroll. You’re the new girl so you’re the top on the list.”
“You-you’re firing me?!” Panic flares to life in my stomach. I need this job. Without it, Lauren can’t pay rent and we already have so little food, this will sink us. “Please tell me this is a joke. I need this job.”
Joe shakes his head sadly. “Sorry, Kid. Everyone needs the job. There isn’t anything I can do about it. You can finish your shift and come to me for your last paycheck.”
“Yeah, okay,” I mutter, turning to leave.
“Shut the door,” he calls out, already hunched over his computer.
Fighting back the tears, I do as ordered before heading back out onto the floor to finish my shift. As much as I want to just run out of here and never look back, I need the money I will earn tonight if we’re going to afford this month’s rent. Lauren already asked me if I had any money for her twice this week and because payday hasn’t come around, I’ve had to deal with her attitude over my having to say no.
It takes everything in me to keep myself together for the last few hours of my shift. When it finally ends, I have to deal with the humiliating task of handing in my uniform before I’m finally able to escape. The second I’m away from the diner, I allow the tears I had been fighting all night to flow. What did I ever do to get dealt this hand in my life? Can’t one thing go right, just once?
3
The tears finally slow after I’m a few blocks from the diner. Only unladylike sniffles remain. I use my sleeve to swipe angrily at my wet cheeks. The night is quiet and the air is still as I continue on my walk home. I need to get some sleep and figure out what I’m going to do about a job. School starts in a few hours, so if I hurry, I’ll get a good two hours of sleep before I have to leave.
The soft shuffle of footsteps behind me pulls me out of my pity party and puts me on high alert. Not many people are out walking at this time of night—or morning—and rarely are they headed in the same direction as me. Most people are trying to get out of my neighborhood, not head into it.
I pick up the pace and keep my head down, trying to act as if I’m not paying attention to them. When the footsteps quicken, so does my heart rate. Whoever it is sped up when I did and they’re getting closer.
Walking faster, I say a silent prayer that the footsteps will fade, but they continue to pick up speed with me. Panic drives me to take off into a full sprint, and I’m not surprised to hear the person start to run after me. I drop my bag, hoping that’s what they’re after, and push myself to run harder.
I glance backward and skid to a stop when I don’t see any signs of life behind me. The only thing around is my bag lying undisturbed in the middle of the street. Spinning in a full circle, I search for any signs that I’m not completely insane. Someone was following me; I know they were. I heard them!
Remaining alert for danger, I take a moment to catch my breath. I scan up and down the street and, reassured I’m alone, I walk cautiously over to my bag and pick it up. Slinging it over my shoulder, I turn around to hurry the rest of the way home and run smack into someone’s chest. A startled yelp escapes, and I try to take a few steps back but strong hands grip me by my biceps and hold me in place.
With wide eyes, my gaze darts up to the person who has ahold of me. My heart skips a beat at how terrifying the man looks. He’s built like a tank, all muscle and scowls. He has on a black shirt and deep blue denim jeans with boots that could do serious damage. His hair is dark as night and styled in a curly mess. He has a short, neatly trimmed beard that frames his thin lips. His eyes are a striking honey color and stand out against his tanned skin. The guy would be very attractive if not for the evil look of malice in his eyes.
Before I can even think to open my mouth to scream, he spins me around and puts one arm across my body, pinning my arms down. His other hand covers my mouth to prevent me from screaming for help. I start to kick and struggle, realizing he isn’t interested in just my bag. He ignores my attempts to dislodge his arm and drags me to a running car. Shoving me into the back seat, he grabs my throat and leans close to me.
“If you scream or fight, I will snap your neck. Sit there and shut up.” His voice is deep as he growls his warning. Too scared to do more than nod, I sit quietly as he roughly let’s go of my throat and slams the door.
By the look on his face, I know he isn’t bluffing. If I try to fight, he will kill me. My eyes dart around the car as I sit frozen in fear. When my gaze reaches the front seat, I squeak in surprise to find another man sitting in the driver’s seat. I can’t see his face, but I can tell his hair and skin tone are similar to his accomplice, though his dark curls are longer.
“Sorry about all this, Pipsqueak,” the driver chirps, sounding completely unfazed by the fact they’re kidnapping someone.
The first man jumps into the passenger seat and we take off like a bat out of hell. I scream, partly because I’m being taken to God knows where and I’m terrified that I’m about to be chopped into tiny pieces, but also because I have a horrible fear of cars since the accident and being in one that’s going ninety miles an hour sends me into a full-blown panic attack.
The guy in the passenger seat turns around with a glare when I continue to scream. His eyes promise retribution and, afraid he will make good on his threat, I clamp my mouth shut, swallowing my scream. His brow draws in confusion for a moment as he studies me, then he shakes out of his thoughts and fixes the scowl back onto his face.
Throwing an eye mask at me, he opens his mouth and growls at me. “Put this on and keep quiet,” he orders, leaving no room for argument.
I do what he says qui
ckly, fearing what he might do if I try to argue. The feel of the car zooming down the road, and the fact that I can’t see where we’re going is too much and I start to hyperventilate. We’re going to crash; I just know it.
“Bro, maybe we should—” the driver starts, but quickly gets cut off by the other man.
“Shut the fuck up, Remus,” he shouts, causing me to jump in surprise at his volume. I didn’t know someone could growl while shouting but he does it well.
My ears start ringing and my heart feels like it’s about to explode. My head spins and I feel my body start to tingle. The last thing I hear before I pass out is the driver cursing.
4
When I come to, the first thing I notice is that I’m no longer moving, so I know that either the car stopped or I’m no longer inside the car. At that last thought my eyes pop wide open. Bright light has me blinking and I realize then that the blindfold is gone. I leverage into a sitting position and look around me. I’m in a stark white and completely empty room.
When I say completely empty, I mean there’s not one thing in the room aside from the light bulb above me. My panic from before returns and I race to the door, tugging on the handle. I’m more than a little surprised when the handle twists easily and I’m able to pull the door open.
Cautiously, I poke my head out into the hall and look around to be sure it’s empty. After listening carefully for signs of my kidnappers, I tiptoe quietly into the hallway. There’s a clear dead end to my right, so I turn and begin walking in the opposite direction. When I round a corner, a large spiral staircase comes into view. I peer over the railing and scan the area, but I don’t see anyone. The house is eerily silent, so I take my chances and head down the stairs. With each step I hesitate to put my full weight down, for fear of hitting a creaky spot.
Halfway down, I almost sob in relief when I see a set of double doors come into view. It’s more than likely the front door and I’m so close to making it out. I can feel my heart pounding and my breathing picks up. I’m only three steps away from the bottom when arms wrap around my waist, and I scream in fright.
“Calm down, Pipsqueak!” the person holding me shouts over me.
Ignoring him, I continue to kick and rage as he drags me back up the stairs, to the room I just escaped from. Fearing what he might do, I scurry to the corner of the room the second he loosens his grip on me. My arms wrap around myself and I look around in a panic, frantically hoping there could be something I might be able to use to defend myself. After all, this is the same man who drove me here and helped the other man kidnap me.
“We aren’t going to hurt you if you just cooperate with us,” the man tells me, speaking slowly and cautiously. “I think you—”
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice growls from behind the man talking to me. “You finally woke up.”
There are now two men between me and my chance at freedom and I have nothing to defend myself with. My body convulses, shaking with fear as my mind draws a blank as to what I should do.
“W-Wh-What do you want?” I stutter, trying to squeeze my arms tighter around my body in a feeble attempt to hold myself together.
“We want what belongs to us,” the tank of a man tells me, as if it should be obvious. “You took something that was not yours to take. You are nothing but a lowly thief.” He practically spits the last word.
Thief? I’ve never so much as stolen a piece of candy in my entire life. Oh my god. They have the wrong person! They think I took money or something from them and they’re going to kill me if I don’t give it back. This just keeps getting better!
“You have the wrong person,” I insist, staring at them with wide eyes. “I don’t have anything of yours.”
“That’s unfortunate, Julianne,” the bigger one growls my name quietly, sending a shiver of fear down my spine. “We didn’t want to do this, but you leave us no choice.”
“Brecken,” his friend commands, getting his attention. “This is too far. We should wait for the others before we do anything else.”
Brecken turns to his friend, Remus I believe he called him in the car, and glares at him. “I don’t need them to get shit done.”
Before I can blink, he’s in front of me, holding me by the throat. My eyes widen and I choke in fear at the strength he uses to pin me against the wall. His grip is so tight it cuts off my air supply and I struggle to breathe against the pressure. “We know exactly who you are, Julianne Harbor.” His low voice is full of anger. “You will give us back every single thing you stole or you will die right here and no one will ever find your body, do you understand me?”
Tears roll down my cheeks as I nod my head at him. Letting go of me, he watches dispassionately as I fall to my knees. A coughing fit overcomes me as my lungs refill with much needed air. I’m faintly aware of a door slamming somewhere in the house, but I’m too busy trying to get oxygen into my lungs and stop the never-ending tears that stream down my face.
“What’s going on?” A different voice floats on the air and I realize that another person has entered the room. My head shoots up and I lock eyes with the newcomer. His dark brown hair is on the shorter side and styled neatly. His eyebrows are drawn into a scowl, but unlike Brecken’s, his scowl looks more sad than angry. His perfectly angular jaw clenches when he looks from me to the two men in the room and for a brief moment I wonder if he’s going to help me. I see indecision and frustration flash in his eyes, but then he starts talking and all hope of being saved is lost.
“I thought we were going to wait? Did she at least tell you where the items are hidden?” His deep, masculine voice is just as perfect as the rest of him but his words sadden me. He isn’t going to help me. He’s working with my kidnappers.
“She claims she doesn’t know what we’re talking about,” Remus explains, then tilts his chin at Brecken. “Breck just finished explaining that she should cooperate if she ever wants to be seen alive again.”
“What kind of items were stolen?” I croak out, my throat making my voice scratchy and rough.
The newcomer’s eyes narrow on me and he silently studies me while Brecken speaks. “Family gems, Julianne. They go back over a thousand years and we want every single stone back. We’re well aware they are worth millions and I’m sure you planned to sell them. Now be a good girl and tell us where to find it.”
My eyes widen and I stare at them in shock. Millions of dollars’ worth of gems? Who would just take that kind of heirloom and why do they think it was me? Even if they weren’t irreplaceable, there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to come up with that kind of money to replace them. I don’t even have a job anymore for crying out loud.
Maybe I should just let them kill me. My aunt isn’t going to look for me. I have no friends or family that would care if I went missing. I don’t even have a job that would worry if I didn’t show up. I’m alone. I’m completely alone and now I’m going to die for something I didn’t even do.
Hanging my head in defeat, I whisper to my captors, “I don’t have them. I’d repay you for the loss, but I don’t have that kind of money either and there’s no way for me to come up with it.”
I hear shuffling and squeeze my eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to come but it never does. Opening my eyes, I see Remus dragging a very angry Brecken from the room. That leaves me with the new guy, alone.
5
I watch the new man for a few moments as he stands there silently. His dark eyes assess me, though I’m not sure what he’s looking for. I’m quiet as I kneel on the hard ground and rub my sore throat. The movement of my hand draws his gaze and his eyes narrow once more at me, but still he says nothing. Finally, the silence becomes too much for me and I open my mouth before thinking.
“What’s your name?” I rasp out, feeling my eyes widen when I realize what I asked him.
His eyes dart to mine in surprise and I almost think he isn’t going to answer me, but he shocks me when he finally does. “Leviathan.”
Tilting
my head to the side in confusion, I speak again without thinking. “You mean like the sea monster?”
His own eyes widen and I swear I see his lips twitch briefly in amusement, before he just shakes his head at me and leaves the room, locking the door from the outside.
I’m not sure how much time passes as I sit on the cold wooden floor, but two things become clear. I’m starving and I have to pee. I haven’t eaten in who knows how long and I’m not sure how long I passed out for, but I really need a bathroom. There’s also a lack of water and my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth tells me I’m getting dehydrated.
Time drags on as I wait for someone to come back. I’m not sure what they’re going to do when they come in, but if they don’t kill me right away, I’m going to ask for a bathroom and a cup of water.
After spending a few minutes—or hours—pacing the room, I lean against the wall by the door and slide onto my bottom. There’s no way for me to tell if it’s day or night and no way to know how much time has passed. I wish I had a book or something to keep me occupied but I’m stuck with only my thoughts.
Rolling my head from side to side in boredom, I freeze when I notice the frame around the door is raised slightly. Curious, I bounce up from seated position and investigate. I stick my finger nails under the frame and tug. The frame pulls from the wall a fraction of an inch and I’m able to stick my fingers completely under the wood. I get to my knees and pull harder until a chunk of wood pops free. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with a light weight stick, but maybe I can defend myself against them somehow and get away.
The noise of pulling the piece of wooden frame off the wall must have been loud because seconds later, I hear footsteps running up the hall. I jump to my feet and hold my “weapon” in front of me. At this point, I’m desperate. I’ll try anything. The door slams open and Brecken comes rushing in. My heart is going a million miles a minute and my body shakes in fear. I squeeze my eyes closed and hold the stick out further, hoping he doesn’t try to beat me to death with it. This was a stupid idea. I’m holding a stick for crying out loud. Brecken is bigger than a linebacker and could take me out by snapping his fingers. I don’t know why I thought holding a stupid stick that’s taller than my five-foot two frame would overpower him.
