My Little Secret

1. Introduction

My fear of small spaces is something I acquired when I was 8. I had never met my father, and my mother was always great friends with Jack Daniels. To say she loved her alcohol would be an understatement. One afternoon, I ran into our trailer after playing outside with some friends all morning. Me, being the clumsy child that I was, I tripped over the living room rug. As I hit the floor, my head smashed against the coffee table, knocking my mother's drink all over the floor.

"You stupid little bitch" she screamed at me.

I lay on the floor, mortified that she would grab the belt again. My head throbbing, and I could begin to feel blood trailing down my forehead onto my cheek." I'm sorry, mommy. I didn't mean to, do you want me to go get you another drink? "

"No, I want you to get the hell out of my life! You're just like your father," she yelled again as she grabbed a fistful of my hair.

I began to scream, and cry as she dragged me across the carpet, burning the backs of my legs. "Mommy, no! Please, stop!"

I remember the sound of the hall closet squeaking open, and then being cast into almost total darkness. As she slammed the door, coats and old holiday decorations fell from the top of the hall closet. I tried opening the door, but my mother shoved something too heavy for me to shove in front of it. "Mother, I'm sorry." I cried, banging on the door. "I'll clean it up, and I won't do it again!"

I screamed for hours, but finally, my voice gave out. My mother passed out on the couch later, and I spent almost an entire day in that cramped, musky closet.

After hearing this story, you can probably understand why I am currently having a panic attack after waking up in a small crate. I hear some type of vehicle engine, and the crate rocks back and forth. "Help!" I scream, having flashbacks of the closet. "Someone, get me out of here!"

I begin to bang on the wood with my fist and kick at it with my bare feet. After what seemed like hours, I gave up and curled into a ball, rocking back and forth, I feel light-headed, and don't remember anything after picking up my drink at Stacy's party, downing it, and then running off to dance with my best friend, Lexi.

I remember her voice, but the words in my mind are fuzzy and muffled. "Come on, Mya!" Let's dance. That guy over in the corner is checking you out."

Someone drugged me.

At the thought of that, fiery, burning rage shoots through my body. I began to pound on the crate Just as I was about to beat my fist against the top once more, I heard a noise and noticed that the engine had stopped running.

Click....

I hold my breath and sit still. Someone has found me. Someone is opening this tiny prison I am trapped in.

Click, click...

At first, I was excited that someone had found me. Then, the realization hit me. Whoever has drugged and kidnapped me is probably the one opening it.

Click...

I crouched down and got ready to leap out and run.

Click!

The crate lid swings open, and I spring out. Rushing to the open garage door in front of me, just before I take my first step a pair of rough hands grab my arm. "Not as fast, princess." a deep, grave voice says to me.

With my free hand, I swing around and uppercut the man straight in the jaw. "Ah!" he shouts, momentarily releasing me out of his grip.

I take this chance to run. Turning around quickly, I dash out of the dark garage, and into the blinding sunlight. Oh, god. Its mid-day. I must be a long way from home. Sharp gravel digs into my bare feet, but I try not to let it slow me down. I hear multiple pairs of heavy boots slamming the ground behind me, and they are getting closer with every passing second.

I am nearing the highway, my heart is pounding, and my breathing is ragged. Hope fills my chest, I'm just feet from the highway.

Suddenly, I feel something smash against my temple, and the whole world goes black.