The Worst Days of Our Lives

Chapter 3: Cassandra

 

'Its a good thing I’m not afraid of the dark,' she thought dryly. She was assuming she was in the backseat of this fucker’s truck. She knew she was scared but honestly she was too pissed off to let her mind react the way it should. All she could think about it how worried Chance would be. Yes it kind of really sucked she got kidnapped. She could feel her body shaking in terror about what was waiting for her once the truck stopped moving. Her whole body ached from the honestly pitiful fight she had put up. She should've gotten away. It was really disappointing from an abstract point of view, she was taken because she was a failure. Unable to even resist more than a few shouts and some limb flailing. When she woke back up, she felt a warm liquid slowly trailing down her neck. She tried to lick her lips but there was some sort of gag in her mouth, probably a T-shirt. The mans punch had surely split her lip or tore some skin because she was almost sure it was blood that had dried in an annoyingly itchy trail down her skin. Her hands were tied behind her back with what felt like a zip-tie and there was yet another cloth covering her eyes.

Who knows how long she was out, she no longer had any concept of time. She couldn't feel the heat from the sun radiating through any windows, but that didn't mean anything. They could be tinted or covered up. He may not even have windows in the back of this stupid fucking truck, she couldn't remember. She thought it would be a much smarter approach if she did not let the man know she was conscious again. So she sat silently, listening to his rough voice sing along to the hit country radio station. Of course she had to be kidnapped by a hick. Chance was all she could think about, after the initial panic for her own safety of course. The way he had tore after her, trying to do the best he could and save her, not even caring for his own safety. Yet she knew, he would blame himself. This country-ass had not only injured her quite a bit by knocking her unconscious, but prevented her from knowing what happened to Chance. Did he run for help? Did he get a few good shots at the man? Was he even alive? Yes. He was alive. She felt it, he had to be. However, not knowing what would become of her would probably kill him anyways. The panic was building up inside her and she was struggling to keep it in. She had never been one to be capable to soothe herself. The anxiety was crawling up her throat, threatening to take control. Now more than ever, she tried to exercise what little ability she had in relaxing. No panicking. That was a sign of weakness if there ever was one.

She slowly allowed her mind to drift into a dream state, drowning out the sad excuse for music, where she replayed her favorite memories of Chance. The thought of him made her so happy she almost forgot where she was. Almost. Minutes, maybe hours later, the sudden jolt from the breaks completely submerged her back into this horrible reality. The vibration that she had adjusted to stopped suddenly. The metallic sound of keys, a click, movement, a screech from an old door of this stupid truck. They were obviously at their end destination. Moist heat flooded the air conditioned cab of the truck, they must be somewhere overly warm and humid. All of the calmness left her body in one sudden moment as she felt a rough, callused hand close around her thigh. Now she panicked.

The fight that she had put up when she was first taken was now back and ready for round two. She did her best to make as much noise around the gag as she could but really all that effort only earned her grunts. This did not discourage her however. Her hands were tied but her legs were not and so with all the force she could muster, she wildly kicked and swung her limbs into every direction possible. They flew through empty air at first but the finally she landed a good shot. The man must have leaned closer to try and get a grip on her but that was his mistake, she felt hard bone through her shoe and heard a loud string of curses. Hopefully, that was his jaw or perhaps his nose. Either way, the sickening crunch that came from the impact made her chest swell with pride and hope.