Snatched

As you lay in the dark, arms and legs bound, unable to make a sound, your head hurts as you attempt to recollect the day’s events. It is difficult, as you already tried to black out the horrific details...

You were walking from McCain High, enjoying the peaceful stroll home. There were no annoying kids, squawking teachers or pesky principals. Along the way you got distracted and found yourself in a complete unknown part of town. Exhausted and frustrated you sat down on the curb and slammed your bag down. Just as you thought of knocking on doors for a phone to call home, you heard the splutter of an engine. An old Toyota had parked itself right in front of you. Paint scratches and a big dent in the back gave evidence that this was a wear and tear car. The license plate read MAR1LYN. The plate reminded you of your mother’s favourite performer, Marilyn Monroe. The car door opened and out stepped a middle-aged man. His face was old and wrinkly like a pair of worn leather boots and his neck showed the hint of an aged tattoo.

A heavy brown trench coat was draped around his shoulders. While you took in his unusual frame, he suddenly whipped around and stared at you. His startling sapphire eyes caught you off guard and you spluttered "S-sir. Do you happen to, uh, know the way to, Wallaby Street from here?" You caught his eye again and nervously add "Sir?" He stared at you with great interest and slowly said in a Southern drawl "No, I don't". You picked up your bag again and started heading down the path. You would have preferred to knock on stranger’s doorsteps than stare at this creepy man for any longer. "Thanks anyway." You sighed, without looking behind.

Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed your shoulders roughly and they whipped you around. It was the middle-aged man, this time his face not filled with interest, but determination. His eyes were fierce and cold like a wolf’s. In your attempts to throw his hands off, he only held on tighter. You struggled and struggled until you managed to throw his hands off.

Grabbing your bag you made a run for it, screaming as you go, in the hope to alert nearby neighbors. The man stumbled clumsily but carried on the pursuit. Your heart was aching and your legs were weak. He was slowly gaining on you. You were about to round a corner when a sharp blow hits your face. You fell to the ground and held a hand up to your throbbing cheek. The man, panting and wheezing stood over you, his eyes showing no regret. You attempted to scramble to your feet but he crushed your leg to the ground, pinning you. Lifting his fist, the last thing you remember from then, was an excruciating pain. Then black.