No
1103 Words
Sia’s POV
The phone slipped from Sia’s trembling fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Her heart raced, and her breath hitched in her throat. She had just called Rowan to tell him that Rachel had been kidnapped, but before she could explain anything, he’d cut her off.
No.
She couldn’t deal with this. Not now. Not ever.
Shaking, Sia tossed Rachel’s phone and bag into a nearby dumpster. She had no idea what to do, but she knew she couldn’t be caught with Rachel’s things. The night felt colder than usual as she turned her back on the alley and made her way home.
Her small, one-room apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. She dropped her keys on the table and went straight for the cereal, pouring herself a bowl. The crunch was loud in her ears, but it didn’t drown out the panic that had lodged itself deep in her chest.
She went to the bathroom, turning the faucet on, letting the water fill the tub as she sank in, hoping the warmth would calm her. But instead of peace, all the emotions of the day came crashing down on her.
First, the way the staff had treated her. The sneers, the cold shoulders, the way some had “accidentally” spilled coffee on her. No one wanted to help her, no one cared. She felt like an outsider, a misfit, and Rowan was no help. If anything, he seemed to enjoy watching her struggle.
Then the kidnapping. Rachel’s terror-filled eyes flashed in her mind again and again. She closed her eyes, trying to push the memory away, but it clung to her.
Suddenly, a loud knock startled her.
Knock. Knock.
Her heart leapt in her chest. Sia jumped up, water splashing onto the floor as she grabbed a towel and hastily wrapped it around her body. She reached for a pillow, clutching it like a shield as she approached the door.
She opened it slowly. No one was there.
But at her feet lay a small, neatly wrapped package.
Her mind raced. A bomb? Could it be? She dragged the package inside, her movements mechanical. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, she covered the package with a wet cardigan, just in case.
She punctured the wrapping with trembling hands.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
A phone rang inside the package.
Her blood ran cold.
She stepped back, dropping the knife and running to the bed in fear. But the phone didn’t stop. It rang and rang until finally, she forced herself to approach it. Her hands shook as she tore the wrapping apart and pulled out the phone.
She answered.
“Hello, angel, did you call 911?”
The voice on the other end was cold, almost mocking. Sia dropped the phone again, pressing her hands to her face, her breath coming in ragged sobs. The voice was still there, the call still connected.
She hesitated, then picked the phone up again, the voice continuing in its cold, calculated tone.
“Be a good dove and resume work like nothing happened. And if you say a word about the kidnapping to the cops or anyone... well, we might just switch from kidnapping to murder.”
The line went dead.
Sia stood there, frozen in place, the weight of the threat sinking in. She couldn’t call the police. She couldn’t tell anyone. They were watching her, controlling her.
She fell to the floor, her body curling up as tears streamed down her face. How had her life come to this? How had everything spiraled so quickly out of control?
The TV was on in the background, playing an old episode of *Tom and Jerry*. The absurdity of it made her cry harder. Here she was, surrounded by death threats and kidnappings, and on the screen, a cartoon cat chased a mouse.
***
The next morning, Sia forced herself out of bed. Her face was swollen from crying, her mind numb. She needed to go back to work, just like they said. If she didn’t, she’d be the prime suspect, and then... then she would be done for.
She approached Chandler Enterprises with a sick feeling in her stomach. Police cars and FBI vehicles were parked outside. She ducked into a nearby hotdog stand, ordering a hotdog she didn’t want, just to buy time.
The FBI wasn’t leaving. They were still there, swarming the building. What if they found out about the kidnapping? What if they connected her to Rachel?
Her hands shook as she ate the hotdog, trying to appear calm. But she couldn’t stall forever. Eventually, she knew she had to go in.
Sia made her way to the entrance, her pulse pounding in her ears. She pushed through the revolving doors and walked straight to the security desk. The scanner beeped as it checked her for weapons, and her bag was taken for inspection.
Everything was routine. No one suspected her.
Until she stepped into the elevator.
Just as she was about to press the button for the 36th floor, a voice called out. “Hold the elevator!”
Her heart stopped.
FBI agents rushed in, squeezing into the elevator with her. She pressed herself against the back wall, her breath shallow as the doors closed. They were so close. Too close.
One of the agents turned toward her, looking her up and down. His eyes landed on her ID badge.
“So, you’re Rachel and Rowan Chandler’s secretary, huh?”
Sia swallowed hard, her throat dry. She nodded, but couldn’t speak. The air felt thick, suffocating. The elevator continued its slow climb, and she prayed it would move faster.
“What were you doing yesterday between 5 and 6 PM?”
Her heart dropped.
She couldn’t answer. The words wouldn’t come. Her mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse, but all she could think about was Rachel’s terrified face as she was dragged away.
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened.
Sia bolted.
She didn’t look back, didn’t care if the agents followed. She sprinted down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. If they caught her, it was over. Everything was over.
She reached the nearest exit, bursting through the door and stumbling out into the stairwell. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she raced down the stairs, her mind clouded with fear and panic.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not like this.
She’d have to run. To disappear. Because if she didn’t, it was only a matter of time before they found out the truth.
And then she’d be next.
- Writer
