by Jackson, Meg
“Miss. Serena, no!”
~ 3 ~
When I woke up, the first thing I felt was nauseous. I wanted to throw up immediately and struggled upwards; I was lying on my back, but found that when I tried to raise myself I couldn’t move. It was dark; at first I didn’t realize why, then I felt the cloth around my face, the way my breath felt hot and heavy against whatever material was covering head.
My brain was pounding, and it felt like a train was roaring through my head. I couldn’t think straight. It was like I was sensing everything at once, which was almost like sensing nothing at all. The bag around my head. The ties around my wrists. The ties around my ankles. The rumbling, shaking sensation underneath me.
It was all like some sort of terrible nightmare, where it could feel so real yet still be fake. I mean, it certainly couldn’t be real. I was Serena Kascade, daughter of Max Kascade, of Kascade Marketing Solutions. I lived in a high-rise on west 81st street. I had just bought new shoes.
But real it was, nonetheless. I was tied up, blinded, and stuffed into the back of a moving vehicle like an unwanted carpet. My maid was tied up in a bathtub with a gash on her head, and someone had attacked me from behind. This was reality; probably the most real thing that had ever happened in my long life of being spoiled rotten and never knowing hardship.
For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this was punishment. For being so lucky, for disobeying my father, for being ungrateful. That thought was soon replaced by more utter panic. My heart was racing at a million beats a minute and my stomach churned. I thought I might actually piss myself.
I had to do something, because I felt like I was dying, so I did the only thing I could think of. I screamed. I screamed bloody murder, my voice raw from dehydration and panic. Screaming produced exactly no results. There wasn’t a sound, aside from what I recognized as a car moving down a road.
I screamed again. No one said anything, no one told me to shut up. Nothing. That scared me even more than I would have been had someone thrown a shoe at me and told me that they’d kill me if I made another noise. Then, at least, I would have heard the voice of whoever did this to me.
As I opened my mouth to scream a third time, the moving sensation and sounds ceased. I hesitated as I heard the slamming of car doors. From outside, I could hear, very faintly, the sound of voices. They drew nearer, and as I lay still in my binds I felt new fear flowing through me.
“Yup, she’s awake again, I heard ‘er screaming bloody murder back there,” I heard someone say from outside.
“Ah, well, it’s too risky to try knocking her out again, a little thing like that, one more blow to the head could kill her,” another voice said.
“You’re crazy, Gunner, you wanna try and get a struggling female out of the back of the truck and into the room? She’ll fight like hell, it’s easier just to send her back to la-la land,” the first voice responded. The voices were very close now, and I felt tears springing into my eyes as the fear settled in.
“Aww, what is it, Ace, you afraid of getting a little bruised up? She’s tied up seven ways from Sunday, no way she can put up much of a fight. Besides, you wanna explain a brain-dead hostage to the rest of the club? She ain’t worth shit to us if we leave her needing life support just to drool for the next sixty years.” The second voice was very, very close now, and I heard someone pulling on a latch, then the sound of a trunk being opened.
I realized for the first time how hot I was as I felt the sun blaring down on me. I turned my head towards the heat, hoping some light would shine through. No luck; it was darker than dark. Pitch black. I wanted to die.
“Sorry about the knocker, doll. No easy way to get a bitch to come home with you,” I heard the first voice say with a chuckle.
“Shut up, Ace,” the second voice said, sounding exasperated. In my panic, I didn’t know what to do. Scream again? Try to talk to them? My body answered for me; I felt rough hands grabbing at me and I shrieked.
“Jesus! That’s an ear-splitter,” the first voice said.
“Of course she’s gonna scream, wouldn’t you?” The second voice was much closer, and I could tell that the owner was the one who was currently lifting me out of the trunk. I could feel how strong he was; he didn’t strain at all at lifting me, even though I’m a fairly large girl – not fat, per say, but definitely well-endowed when it comes to my breasts and hips.
Still, he lifted me quickly, without any hesitation, like I weighed no more than a teddy bear. I felt him begin walking as he cradled me in his arms, and I didn’t even realize that I was still screaming until the first voice spoke again.
“Goddam, will you shut up, lady? Giving me a headache with that shit.” Good, I thought, I hope your head explodes. I kept screaming, and trying to struggle, but my hands seemed like they were tied to my ankles so I had almost no way to move; besides, the man who was carrying me had a strong grip, and no matter how I struggled it didn’t seem like he was having any trouble keeping his hold on me. Eventually, my breath simply gave out and I didn’t have the strength to scream any more.
By that time, I could hear more voices in the distance. As they grew closer, I could tell they were all male, but I couldn’t understand what any of them were saying. The tone changed gradually, and I began to make out snippets.
“...got ‘er…”
“….put up a fight?”
“…good on ya boys…”
“…always trust Gunner to deliver…”
“…shame to hurt something so juicy…”
The voices became clearer and louder with each step, then began to fade away. As they faded, I could hear the first voice fading, too, as whoever it was began talking to the main crowd.
“Yeah, she didn’t put up no fight. Had to clock the maid but she’ll be fine. Easy peasy, nice simple operation…”
I don’t know what switch got flipped in my brain at that moment, but it was like I remembered all of a sudden that I was a human being with the ability to communicate with other human beings in words, not just screams.
“Where are you taking me?” I said from within the bag covering my head. The pace seemed to slow ever so slightly.
“You’re gonna be staying with us for a little while, doll. Try not to worry too much. We’ll take good care of you,” the voice said. It was gravelly and rough, but sounded young.
“Who are you?” I asked, spirited by the response to my first question.
“If I tell you that, I’d have to kill you,” the response came, but it sounded like it was said with a smirk. Still, it was enough to make me shudder and plant a cold stake of fear through my heart. The pace slowed further, and I felt the grip relaxing as whoever was carrying me released one arm to reach for something.
I knew, somewhere deep inside, that if I had a chance, this was it. Never mind being blinded, never mind being hog-tied, my only instinct was to try and escape. I squirmed violently and felt the grip loosen even further; then I felt myself falling, and a heavy, thudding pain as I hit the ground.
It was only then that I realized the true stupidity of my actions. Where, exactly, was I planning to go without the use of my arms or legs? I heard a slight chuckle from above and I felt myself blush, even though my face was covered.
“Well, that was a valiant effort,” the voice said. I heard a door swinging open, then I was lifted once more into the air and carried through the doorway; the man carrying me let me down gently onto what I could feel was a cold, hard, dirty floor. I heard a light buzzing above my head; the heat didn’t seem to penetrate wherever I was, at least not to a degree. It was warm, but not stifling like the air outside.
I wish I could describe the utter shock I felt when the bag was suddenly lifted from my eyes; it wasn’t just that I was forced to accept that it was all finally real, not some hideous prank. It wasn’t just where I was. It wasn’t just the fact that the person who was doing this to me would let me see him. It was the fact that the person doing this to me was, without a doubt, the most
handsome man I’d ever seen in my life.
He was tall and lean, but with ripped, muscular arms. His face looked dirty, and he had a short, stubbly beard underneath a well-shaped nose and two piercing blue eyes. His short dark hair looked wind-swept and unkempt. He wore a leather vest with a tight black t-shirt underneath, dirty jeans and old-looking boots. He towered over me, a powerful, intimidating man, in his early thirties. I barely even registered the dingy room as I stared up at him.
“Welcome home,” he said. He smiled slightly as he looked down on me. Then he reached into a pocket and pulled out a switchblade; flicking the knife out, I felt cold panic race through me. He took a few steps towards me and I tried to scuttle backwards but could barely move in the restraints.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna cut ya,” he said with a smirk as he bent down over my vulnerable body. I closed my eyes tightly; I could feel the warmth of his body as he reached around me, and even through my fear I could smell the thick, masculine scent of his sweat.
I felt a sudden release and heard a slight snapping sound as he cut the rope that was holding my ankles and wrists together. I kept my eyes closed until I could feel him moving away, then I experimented with moving around. My wrists were still tied together, as were my ankles, but at least I could stretch out slightly. I realized for the first time how sore I was from being so restrained.
“We’re gonna have to keep those one for a while, miss. Until you prove you can be trusted. How long that’ll be is up to you. Of course, you could be outta here by then. Depends on how much your Daddy decides to cooperate,” he said. Somewhere in my mind, his name jumped out at me; I remembered his voice, and the other voice I’d heard calling him Gunner.
“What does my Dad have to do with this? What am I, a…a fucking hostage? And who the hell are you? I know your name, you know, Gunner,” I said, suddenly finding my fear replaced by anger. I stared up at him, trying to throw daggers with my eyes. He just smirked.
“Your Daddy owes us some money for some work we did. He’s gonna have to pony up if he wants you back safe and sound. So, yeah, I guess you could say you’re a hostage. More like collateral, though. And that’s not my name. And I wouldn’t care if you knew my name. Why do you think I took that bag off your head? Your Daddy knows who we are, he knows what we want, and he knows that if he goes to the police, or you go to the police…well, let’s just say we won’t give him another chance if he does anything like that,” Gunner said through his grin.
I couldn’t maintain eye contact at that point; my mind was swimming with everything that had happened, and I felt tired, and worn out, and sore. My head throbbed and my stomach was still nauseous. My limbs ached. I looked around the room; it looked to be some sort of unused storage space. There were metal shelves lining the walls, a single light on the ceiling, and no window. There was only one door; the one we had come in through. In the corner, I saw a dingy-looking mattress and a sheet.
“Am I supposed to sleep on that?” I asked, shuddering at the idea of laying down on an old, mildewed mattress that had been through god knows what.
“It ain’t the Ritz, princess, but it’s better than the ground. We coulda kept you hog tied in the trunk. Try to remember that. I’ll be back in a little while with some food for you. And we’ll have someone come look at that head of yours. Just keep your chin up. Your Daddy will have you out of here in no time, as long as you ain’t been bad lately,” Gunner said, turning towards the door.
I thought about how I’d smiled about pissing Dad off right before it had all happened and felt a pang of guilt – then a pang of fear. What if Dad didn’t pay up? What if he just didn’t care? Or felt relieved? He’d never cut me off while I was alive but…
…but what if he didn’t care if I was alive or not?
~ 4 ~
I must have fallen into a deep sleep at some point after Gunner left; when I woke up, I was lying on the mattress, my head was bandaged, and there was a sandwich and a bottle of water on the ground next to me. I wondered how they expected me to eat the sandwich with my hands tied.
I sat up and squirmed slightly in my ties; to my surprise, I found I had much more room to move my hands about. My wrists were tied to each other with a long piece of rope, instead of crossed over each other like they’d been earlier. It was easy to untangle myself at that point; I just pulled my legs through my arms so that my hands were in front of me instead of behind. I picked at the top slice of bread; peanut butter and jelly. I scoffed; they expected me to eat kids’ food?
The moment after I had that thought, I realized just how silly it was. They could expect me to do whatever they wanted me to. They were in charge now. The thought chilled me to the bone. I couldn’t eat, even though I was hungry. I simply sat, staring at the plate. Then, suddenly, I heard the door open.
“Have a good sleep, doll?” It was Gunner, again. He entered loudly, making it clear that he meant to wake me. I didn’t say anything, just stared at him. Even though I hated him for keeping me caged up like an animal, I couldn’t deny the powerful attraction I felt to him. Which was strange, for me, since I rarely felt that way towards men; I’d had boyfriends, of course, and I wasn’t a virgin, but I almost never saw a man who made me feel the way Gunner made me feel.
There was something about his face, his build, the raw smell of him, that burrowed past all my rational thought and ignited something inside me. I pushed the thoughts away, determined to be angry and defiant. Gunner had brought a plastic folding chair in with him, and he set it up not too far from the mattress. He sat down in it and stared at me.
“Let’s have a chat,” he said. What in the world could he want to chat with me about? “We’ll be notifying your father soon. That we have you. It’s been a day and a half, you know, that you’ve been in here. Sleeping. That knock on the head left you with quite a bump. Sorry about that,” he said cheerfully.
“I’m sure you are,” I said back, scowling. I considered, briefly, trying to use my newfound semi-freedom to rush him, somehow hit him with my still-tied hands, but I realized instantly how foolish that would be. There was no way I could fight him off.
“Oh, come now. I’m not such a bad guy. I’m just doing what’s best for my boys. They look to me, you know, I gotta take care of them. But I’m not so bad. Your Dad thought that, anyway, when he hired us to take care of a little work problem he was having. Your Dad…now there’s a cold-hearted man for you. If I told you what he asked us to do…well, you wouldn’t want to hear such a thing about your dear old Daddy. I’ll spare you the details, sugar,” he was smiling again.
“I don’t care what my Dad did or didn’t do. It’s got nothing to do with me,” I said, almost spitting the words out. Gunner kept grinning, but I saw his eyes flick over my body. His expression changed slightly as he did so, and I could see his gaze lingering on my chest and my exposed thighs; I was still wearing the short, thin dress I’d had on when he kidnapped me, and I suddenly felt very exposed.
“I’m sure. But that doesn’t change the fact that your Daddy owes us a pretty penny, and we need you to help us get it. Which is why I’m in here having this chat with you today. I need some of that pretty hair of yours. And I need you to do something else for me,” he said, his eyes returning to mine.
“Like I’d do a goddam thing for you,” I said with disdain.
“Well, I’ll take the hair no matter what. And if you do what I ask of you, I promise to remove those binds. You are gonna be the star of a little video. We want you to tell your Daddy how much you love him and how much you need him to save you. Holding today’s paper. Say a few nice words to your old man, in exchange for full use of your arms and legs. If you wanna refuse, well, I guess we’ll just have to make do with a video of you screaming while we mark up your pretty little body. The choice is yours,” he said coolly.
I stared at him, my heart heavy with fear. This was all too real; but it was obvious I didn’t have much of a say in the matter. I nodded, eyes filling with tears.
<
br /> “That’s a good girl,” Gunner said, smiling at me and standing up. “I’ll be back real soon and we’ll get started.”
As he left the room, I returned to staring at the plate with the sandwich on it. I knew I’d made the right choice, that was obvious, but it felt weird to have been given a choice at all. Moments later, the door swung open again and Gunner entered, holding a pair of scissors, a newspaper, and a camera on a tripod. He silently set the tripod up so that it was staring at me. I squirmed, suddenly very uncomfortable.
Gunner walked up the mattress and handed me the newspaper.
“Showtime, doll. Hold this up and say some nice things about how you love your Dad and need him to rescue you. Then I’ll cut you loose, okay?” Gunner said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to film your hostage. I nodded. He walked back to the camera and pushed a button; a red light came on. “Action!”
I held the newspaper out in front of me and racked my brain, trying to think of what to say. Nothing came to me. It was like my mind was a blank slate. I opened my mouth and began to speak, but I couldn’t say anything more than “Hi, Dad.”