STALKED AND STOLEN

Chapter 5

“Relax, alright. I haven’t got the patience to deal with drama.” he knelt down in front of me, arm resting on one leg again, and shook his head.

I felt quite offended that my fear seemed to be such an inconvenience to him.

As cool as a cucumber, he held the knife out in front of my face and his eyes narrowed, curious, like he was studying me. Taking in every detail of my expressions. All the muscles tightened in my body. The dim, artificial light glimmering against the shiny silver surface of the blade. It felt like he tried to drag it out longer than necessary.

He then seemed to snap out of it. Like something came across him, he blinked, and reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling my tied wrists towards him. The knife sliced through the tape like butter and freed my hands, then he did the same with my ankles.

I wanted to stretch out and walk around, but I stayed glued to the wall with big, wide eyes staring at him. I wondered if he was enjoying my misery. If he was getting off on watching tears stream down my face, and my whole body physically shaking.

Like another switch flipped, he stood up and walked away to the other side of the van. It felt like my hearing came flooding back, and it was so silent I could hear ringing in my ears. He slid down the wall and sat straight facing me, before pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his combats. He stared at me while he placed one in his mouth and lit it up. The smoke whirled around the van and scratched my throat as I breathed in. The area between us turned a cloudy grey.

“Want one?” he asked. He held up the cigarette packet showcasing just three cigarettes.

I rubbed the skin on my stinging wrists and stayed silent.

“I don’t bite, here. You look like you need one,” he said. His lips curved up into a slanted smirk and he pulled one of the cigarettes from the packet. I physically jumped when he tossed it across the van to me, my bare shoulders scraping the metal wall behind me. I got the feeling he found it funny, but I certainly did not.

The cigarette landed right in front of my feet, then the lighter landed with a thud to my left.

“What do you want from me?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He said nothing. He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew enough smoke to pollute a city at me. It created a whirling pattern in the air and hovered without any window to escape.

I glanced down at the cigarette he tossed me, and I picked it up. I shoved it between my lips and picked up his heavy, silver lighter. I had to strike it at least three times, and when the flame flickered and wavered, I realised how bad my body was shaking. I take a drag and the smoke hits the back of my throat like a bomb. I had no control over the massive coughing fit that erupted from me so bad that my eyes watered and my rib hurt.

Trying to hold in my cough was like trying to hold in explosive diarrhea. It wasn’t happening. Every time I thought it was going to come to an end my throat tickled again and off I went. I didn’t even know why I’d tried to smoke. I hadn’t ever smoked in my life. But I’d seen many times on TV people saying it had calmed there nerves. I wasn’t that lucky. I dropped his lighter and covered my spluttering mouth with my hand.

He made a move and my body tensed up. He shuffled along the blue carpet slightly, and pulled the blue box to him. After swinging open the lid he began to rifle through it.

“You want beer or water?” he said.

“Water.” My first drink of beer wasn’t going to be while I was in the middle of my own kidnapping. I imagined that moment to be while I was out having fun with my non existent friends. “Actually, beer.”

He pulled out a four pack of beer that had a blue label, and he ripped the paper casing off. He held out one of the bottles by holding it at the lid, letting it swing slightly. It was a stared down for at least thirty seconds between us. I wasn’t going to make any sudden movements, and that included unsticking myself from the wall just for beer. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I did want his beer, though.

He leaned forward and placed it in the middle of the floor between us. He put the other bottle into his mouth, and using his teeth, he popped the cap off.

"You want it opened?" he asked?

I shook my head. I didn’t want his kidnapping germs all over the bottle I was going to drink from. Like a timid rabbit I slowly leaned and then snatched the bottle up. My heart beat fast against my rib cage, and if I had tried to stand up, I knew I’d just fall straight back down with jelly legs.

I Enjoyed the feeling of something cold in my palms. It grounded me and reminded me I was real. It was covered in wetness from the cooling box, and honestly, I couldn’t wait to drink it. My mouth felt like sandpaper. I did what he had done, and placed the cap of the bottle on my back teeth. I tilted the bottle and bit down, trying to copy, and I feel a clink, and a shooting pain in my gum. I dropped the bottle and my hands instinctively shot to my mouth to protect me.

Blue eyes laughs and I glare at him from my little safe space. Through the space in his mask I saw straight, white teeth. His eyes a lit up a little brighter when he smiled. I felt like picking up the bottle that had rolled, and slotting it off his head. But I didn’t. I knew he had at least one gun, and at least one knife. That was certainly more than what I was packing.

He shook his head and swiped the bottle up, before pulling a small metal opener from a little pocket on the side of the box. I supposed he just opened his with his teeth because he could. He held out the bottle again and u hesitated. My fingers knotted together shakily and I crossed my legs in front of me. The beer called my name. Droplets of condensation dripped off the bottom of the bottle and onto the carpet. I wanted nothing more than to pour it down my neck and ask for another.

I reached out, noting my fingers shaking, and he made no sudden movements. I felt like he liked watching me. He had a look in his eyes, not quote frowning, but inquisitiveness studying me. The liquid inside the bottle fizzed as I snatched it, not removing my eyes from his. I tipped my head back and swigged it like a thirsty elephant. The bubbles slid down my throat with ease, and u felt a slight rush of heat fill my face.

My first drink of alcohol was with my kidnapper. If I was to live and go on to have children, this would be one of the highlights of my life that I’d look back on. That’s if I wasn’t completely traumatised by the whole ordeal, or worse, dead. I could feel a bubble in my chest, and it wasn’t the anxiety. It moved, and it suddenly shot up my throat and out popped a giant burp that felt like it shook the van.

My hand shot up to my mouth, and my sight averted back to him. I felt quite embarrassed, even though I really shouldn’t have. I watched his smile creep up, but only slightly.

I’d drank half the bottle of beer in one go, but boy did it hit the spot. I wanted to leap across the van and rip that blue box apart looking for more. I didn’t dare, though. I continued to sit like a stiff plank of wood until he stood up again. He walked to the other bags that were behind the shutter the evil man had closed, and he pulled out a blue fleece blanket and a pillow.

I braced my body, tightening every muscle and holding up my hands for protection, when he tossed them my way. They felt like a lead weight, or I just felt super sensitive, when they landed on my legs. Blue eyes grabbed a little portable TV and slid back down his wall to sit.

“Sleep,” he ordered.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to go to sleep. How was I supposed to just drift off peacefully when I was god knows where, in the middle of my own kidnapping?

“Now.”

I was his puppet. My body seemed to willingly obey him when he spoke. I flapped out the blanket and got a whiff of something floral and pleasant. It was clean, and that I felt grateful for. I put my head on the pillow and curled my body up into the foetal position beneath the fleece. It was then that my body began to register what was happening, and I suddenly felt cold. Hundreds of little goose pimples popped up on my arms and my feet rubbed together, like they had a mind of their own.

I had to accept my fate. I was in this situation, so I just had to take it minute by minute, until I could figure what they wanted, and what was going to happen to me.