Wistful Remembrance (Wattys 2014 HQ Love Award Winner!)

3. Let's Just Hope I Don't Get Kidnapped Again

Chapter 3

Let’s Just Hope I Don’t Get Kidnapped Again

 

 

Even before I woke up, I knew exactly what day it was.  The date had been on my mind constantly for the past few days as we prepared for our trip to Paris.  Mom had calmed down, Dad seemed a little wary, and Jason and Drake, who was coming along with us, were excited to actually be going somewhere.

“My last trip to Paris was cut short,” Drake had joked with me at the airport before our flight left. 

I smirked, but my insides were twisting with nerves.  “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t end the same way.”

Of course, I didn’t really know everything that had happened the last time I’d been in Paris, which ended in my kidnapping and captivity for two months.  At least, that’s what the news reports said and what my family had told me…but it just seemed wrong, like most of the things I’d read or heard about that or anything that happened after. 

But something that felt more right and yet wrong was what came in my dream the morning of our first day in Paris. 

 ***

For some reason, I was drenched in water.

When I got a good look at myself, it looked like I’d gotten caught in the rain.  My hair – which was blond – had already started to dry and my mascara hadn’t even smudged. 

And I didn’t have scars.    

There was a knock on the door and then Drake’s voice on the other side.  “You okay in there, Em?”

“Yeah, I’m good.  I’ll be out in a minute or two,” I said as I started to tug the elastic band to let my hair down. 

I was in one of the stalls then, about to walk out, when a strange sound came from up above, like the final whirl of a machine that was coming to a stop.

And that’s when the lights went out, plunging me into complete darkness. 

For a moment, I thought I’d gone blind.  Maybe my dream was ending and I would never know what it was about, but then I blinked, still not waking.  Nothing had changed as I reached forward to touch something and found the door. 

The sound of a crowd was coming from the direction out of the bathroom.  I could hear Drake’s voice, too, yelling my name, and another man’s voice.  The only thing was I couldn’t figure out just which door it was coming from.  My sense of direction was completely lost, not being able to see anything. 

When I made my way out of the bathroom stall, I took a few steps forward, reaching out blindly for the edge of the sink counter.  I found it, but only when my hip came into contact with it and a sharp pain shot down my leg. 

I stumbled forward, not really knowing which direction I was going, and had my hands out in front of me.  But when both of my hands came into contact with the smooth metal of a door, I felt around for the handle and immediately pulled it open. 

I expected to be greeted by the light filtering in from the outside through the windows, but all I was met with was continual darkness.  It was completely silent, too, except for the faint sound of footsteps coming from my right.  They started coming toward me, stopping only a few dozen feet away.