It was a brisk Autumn evening, as normal as any other. My mother and I had just finished cleaning up the mess left from our dinner creation and were now lazily watching television in the front room. As per usual, my mother dragged herself off the couch and trudged to her room mumbling something under her breath of how she didn’t want to go to work the following day and left me alone to flick through the channels. Tonight, however, I couldn’t settle on anything that was on so I decided to follow in her footsteps and go to bed as well.
Halfway up the stairs, there were three small knocks at the door. I paused and looked at my mother’s door to see it was now open and her head had popped out.
“Did you invite someone over?” she asked looking at me.
I raked my brain trying to think of any possible invites I had given but came to a dead end since I don’t have any friends. I shrugged and watched as she moved to unlock the door.
I couldn’t see much through what little window my mother provided, but I faintly saw a bold outline of a man.
Has my mom been talking to someone? She hasn’t seemed genuinely interested in dating since my father walked out on us in the first few years of my existence.
Just as I turned around to continue my walk upstairs to my bedroom, there was a loud bang. I turned to see her hitting the wall and the man stepping in. He had on a mask and black clothing.
My first instinct was to freeze. A dumb one, I know. I let out a scream and ran upstairs, slamming my bedroom door shut and locking it. My eyes darted around the room in search of something to protect myself. Why don’t I have a bat or something in here?
There was a loud banging on my door, and I knew I had to think of something. So I hid in my closet. Just in time to, because as soon as I closed the door, the masked man broke in. Through the slits in my closet door, I could see him looking around. Under my bed, in the bathroom, and then his eyes landed on the closet.
My breath hitched as he walked closer. I could hear his footsteps against my wood floor. It felt like a game of hiding and seek. My heart was beating so hard that I thought it would burst right out of my chest. I did not want to be found.
The door opened, and I froze. He started going through the clothes hung up on the opposite side of the closet. I knew I was trapped. I knew I would be found. But there was still that part of me that hoped he would give up, and go away; leaving my hiding spot alone.
I flattened against the wall as he started poking around in the clothes I was hiding in. I felt something grab my arm and let out a sharp yelp. He dragged me out of the closet and immediately got socked in the face. He let go long enough for me to blot out of the room and towards the stairs.
I went down the stairs so fast I am amazed I didn’t trip and fall. I made it to the door and thought I was in the clear, and then realized there was more than one. I was grabbed by both, being carried by my hands and feet and carried outside. All the while I tried to pry my limbs from their grasp and screamed so loud I thought I’d lose my voice for the rest of my life, which would be fine if I made it out alive.
My struggling and screaming did nothing for me though. Before I knew it, I was thrown, quite literally thrown, into the trunk of a car and engulfed in darkness. I slammed my fists against the trunk door and yelled for help. Tears started streaming down my cheeks as I felt the car moving.
What did I do to deserve any of this?