Crazy and Confused

Since the day I was born I was called a mistake. Screaming, yelling, fighting, and death are major details in my life. When I was seven years old I met my best friend Elizabeth. We were alike in so many ways. Two peas in a pod, as people always said. Our first day of middle school is a day I will never forget. Elizabeth and I were walking to school early one morning when a black 2004 Ford Mustang pulled up to the sidewalk next to us. We quickly noticed the car and became confused on who it could be. The blue tinted window rolled down slowly and a man in dark shades grunted a, “Get in.” I remember Elizabeth's and my struggle to get away. We weren’t the most athletic teens so running from a car wasn’t the best idea. We ran as far as our legs would take us and then I felt weight on my back. The man in the car had gotten out and jumped on me. Elizabeth, not being able to leave me, came back to try to help me. But the man grabbed both of us and threw us into his car roughly. We drove for hours until finally I saw a beaten up shack. It was a dark tan color with a roof that looked like it could cave in any second. The man got out of the car making sure to lock us in and walked to the trunk. I looked over at Elizabeth for what seemed like the first time in years and saw her face, the face of a scared little girl who didn’t know what to do. I pulled her into a hug and rested my hand on her back. “We will get away from him,” I whispered. “I won’t let him hurt us.” Elizabeth began to sob and I pulled away and looked out the tinted window. Who was this guy? I haven’t seen him around? Is he going to hurt Elizabeth? No, I wouldn’t let him hurt her. Elizabeth has been through way too much in her life. My thoughts were then interrupted by the opening of Elizabeth's door. Her screams, louder than a siren, were ringing through my ears as the man tied her arms behind her back and tied her feet together. She struggled to get out of the rope but I could tell by the red forming around her ankles that the ropes were tight and probably impossible to get out of. He pulled out an almost empty role of black duct tape and pulled some off. He placed the duct tape over Elizabeth’s mouth and that finally shut her up. I was in shock. I couldn’t move. I felt as if I had no energy to do anything. But as the man went back to the back of the car I looked at Elizabeth and saw the tears streaming down her face. I couldn’t look at her crying. So I took my thumb and wiped the tears from her eyes. Seeing her cry gave me the strength to do what I had to do. I quietly got out of the car and pulled out the red pocket knife I always kept in my Doc. Martens. I flipped the blade up so I could see it shine in the hot sunlight. I crouched down beside the car and then began to advance towards the trunk. I kept my footsteps light and made sure I couldn’t hear myself breathing. When I got to the back of the car I saw the man looking the other way. There was a boulder about three paces away so I slowly crept back behind it. I looked over it slightly just to see what was in the trunk. If I squinted my eyes I could see that there was 4 roles of duct tape, some rope, zip ties, black clothing, and another object I couldn’t name. The man was facing towards the road we had come from looking at his phone. He dialed a number and then put the phone to his ear. “Yes I have them,” he said angrily grumbled into the phone. “They were walking down the street and I grabbed them. Yes they gave a struggle. No they don’t look strong. The blonde looks fun, but I b