Taken By Surprise

by Jessica Frances

  Chapter Twenty – The Blood

  Monday, April 9th

  I awake in a room I don’t recognize, however before I can try to figure out where I am, I fall asleep again. I awaken several more times, though each time, I feel nothing when I awake except a deep desire to fall back asleep. I have no idea how long I’ve been sleeping for, but it seems important that I continue to do so.

  When I’m eventually able to keep my eyes open, I first notice I’m surrounded in complete darkness. Disoriented, I feel around myself, trying to find something familiar. The blanket resting over me is rough and foreign. I move my hands carefully around myself and discover that I’m lying on a single mattress. At home I have a double. I’m definitely not in my bedroom then. My arm bumps into something wooden to my right side which has something cool and metallic sitting on top of it. From the shape, it isn’t hard to guess what it is. I find a switch easily and flick it to turn the lamp on.

  Brightness blinds me and I have to cover my eyes with my hands to try to slowly let them adjust to the light. My eyes ache and in turn, my head starts to also.

  Knowing I’m in trouble, I force myself to concentrate on my surroundings. I remember being at the police station; there are hazy memories of Joel in the interrogation room, of Drew distraught, of being outside and being kidnapped.

  The room where I have been left has wooden double doors that appear to be to a closet on my left side along with a small desk and chair next to it. Opposite the bed is a closed door and on the wall to my right is a large window that only shows the darkness outside. Curtains on either side of it remain open. I lift my head to look directly next to me and on the other side of the closet, closest to me, is another door.

  So this room has two closed doors. Will they both lead outside? What is outside?

  I smell faint traces of paint in the air and, looking at the walls, it doesn’t really appear quite finished. The whole room looks thrown together and incomplete.

  What am I doing here? Who has taken me? Why me? All the questions rush through my head in a panic and my heart starts thumping in my chest as I quickly sit up. I feel dizzy so I close my eyes to block out how the room is spinning. My headache grows worse and closing my eyes doesn’t help. More flashes of memory attack me and I wince each time a new image emerges.

  Dana is dead. Joel shot her. She is gone forever. I’m never going to see her again. I’m never going to get a hug from her or hear her call me Zee again. She is gone and for some stupid reason I’m still alive.

  Tears fall down my face, but I don’t bother wiping them away. More will come. It isn’t fair. Dana was a good person, the best person I knew. She volunteered on weekends at a homeless shelter and she always donated money to charity when she could afford it. She was a decent person; unbelievably loving and caring. Why did this have to happen to her? She deserves to be alive. She deserves to be happy. This isn’t fair. None of this is fair. Why did Joel have to miss? Why did he have to hit Dana? Why hadn’t I understood my dream better? Why didn’t I make more of an effort to stop this?

  More tears come and my whole body shakes as the thoughts consume me. I hate Joel. I hate myself. I hate my dreams. Everything is ruined and it’s my fault.

  I lose myself in sadness for I’m not sure how long. Finally, my thoughts drift back to the present. I’ve been kidnapped and I’m probably in a really dangerous situation. I need to calm down and think rationally.

  I sit up carefully and move the covers away. The cold air grips me and I see that I’m still in the same clothes from the police station. That’s good. It would have been too much to think about if I had been changed into something else while unconscious.

  I look back at the window and decide I should take a peek outside. Just because it’s dark out, doesn’t mean I won’t recognize where I am. I must still be in Boston somewhere, right?

  I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and, as I stand up, I nearly fall over. My legs feel like jelly, even my arms feel as though they’re drunk. Is this an after effect from what I have been drugged with? Or are they feeding me drugs now that make this permanent in order for me to be unable to run or fight back?

  My heart beat speeds up again. If I don’t calm down, there’s a good chance I’ll have a heart attack soon.

  I slide down the side of the bed until my butt touches the ground. I use my arms to pull myself along towards the door closest to the bed. It’s a slow process as it feels like I’ve gained a hundred pounds and become the heaviest person in the world. When I do make it to the door, I reach out with a now wobbly hand and manage to get my fingers around the door handle. Every second I hold my arm up makes it want to drop off. I’m exhausted.

  As badly as I want to try to get out of this room, I suddenly hesitate to turn the door handle.

  What will be on the other side? Is it a good idea to attempt an escape while I can’t even walk?

  I turn the handle before I can talk myself out of it and it only turns for a second before it jams up.

  It’s locked, which means I’m locked in this room. I let my arm fall and lie down on the cool ground for a moment. My mind goes hazy, but then I remember the second door.

  Finding energy from my panic of being trapped, I slowly make my way over to the other side of the room. When I make it there, I discover that this door is open. Inside is dark and cool and I can tell from the light shining through from the main room that this is a small bathroom. It doesn’t lead anywhere else; it’s a dead end.

  I again lie on the ground and, this time, I close my eyes. I’m fairly certain my head is being bashed in with an axe. I wish the pain would go away and I eventually get my wish. Darkness pulls me further down. Soon, it feels like I’m underwater. The pain ebbs away as I inhale the cold liquid and soon feel nothing.