Ruthless for Ruth

TAKEN

I'm not alone, I got me. I'm not alone, I got me.”

That was my alarm. Loud and stubborn, like the voice I wish I had. I reached over and slapped it off. The time read 7:00 a.m.

“s**t,” I muttered, jumping out of bed like I was late.

Took me five seconds to remember it was my day off.

I stood in the middle of my room, breathing hard. My chest still tight from the panic. I hated how my body was always in survival mode. Even rest felt dangerous. I rubbed my eyes and walked to the bathroom. Splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth, then just stood there staring at my reflection.

Same face. Same tired eyes. Same girl trying too hard to feel okay.

As I walked out, I heard the TV blaring from the living room. That only meant one thing.

Dad was home.

And if he was home this early, it meant he’d lost again. Another bet. Another game gone wrong. I muttered a dry “Good morning” and peeked toward the living room. He didn’t even turn. Just sat there, hunched forward, eyes locked on whatever nonsense was on the screen.

His shoulders were slouched, and his right leg kept bouncing like he couldn’t sit still. That’s how he always got after a big loss restless, moody, dangerous.

I didn’t want to be around for it.

I looked out the window, trying to think of where I could go. Nowhere really came to mind. No friends. No money. And honestly, nowhere felt safe.

So I turned around and went back to my room.

Locked the door.

Curled back into bed.

Tried to block everything out.

I must’ve drifted off. Maybe for twenty minutes. Maybe more.

Until a loud, banging sound pulled me out of sleep.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Voices. Angry ones.

I sat up quickly, heart racing, trying to listen.

“You said Friday! It's Monday, bro!”

“I—I know, I know. I just—just give me a little more time.”

“I gave you time! You think I’m running a charity out here?”

My dad’s voice. Nervous. Shaky. Trying to explain.

My blood turned cold.

I crept toward my door, pressed my ear against it.

Another voice deeper. Sharper. “$8,000, Charles. You think I forgot? Where’s my money?”

My mouth went dry. Eight thousand dollars?

I pressed my forehead to the door, my hands shaking. I wanted to stay hidden. Wanted to pretend I didn’t hear anything. But the tension in the air was thick too thick to ignore.

Then came the sound I’ll never forget the unmistakable click of a gun.

My body went rigid.

“No, no, no—man, come on. Please. I’ll get it. Just don’t do this here. Not in front of my kid.”

Wrong thing to say.

Someone laughed. “Kid? You still tryna act like a father?”

My breath caught. I couldn't take it anymore.

I unlocked the door, swung it open, and ran out. “Stop it!” I shouted. “Leave him alone!”

Everything happened fast after that.

Three men. One standing near the door, another on the couch, and the third tall, bald, mean eyes holding a gun pointed right at my dad.

“Back up, girl,” one of them barked.

I stood frozen. My heart was thudding in my chest so loud I could barely hear.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Dad looked at me, eyes wide with fear. He looked small. Weak. Like a scared boy.

The man with the gun turned to me slowly. “You care about this piece of trash?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He stepped toward me. I flinched.

“Maybe you should work off his debt, then. Since he’s too useless to do it himself.”

“What?” I said, voice trembling.

“Shut up, man!” my dad shouted suddenly, standing up. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

But he was too late.

The bald guy grabbed me by the arm. I tried to pull back. I fought. I screamed. But it didn’t matter.

They were stronger.

“Ruth!” Dad shouted.

“I said stop!” I yelled, trying to twist free, but the third guy pulled out a second gun.

I froze. Everything in my body screamed to run, but I couldn’t move.

“This is what happens when you don’t pay up,” the bald man growled. “Next time, it won’t be her we take.”

Then he nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

They pushed me outside. It was bright, hot, the kind of summer heat that sticks to your skin. I looked around. No one. The streets were empty. Music was playing somewhere nearby, but no one came out. No one helped.

They shoved me into the backseat of a black SUV.

Doors locked. Windows tinted. My hands shook on my lap. My mouth felt dry.

I didn’t cry. Not yet. I stared out the window as we drove through streets I used to walk every day. The corner store. The busted streetlight. The bus stop I waited at every morning. Everything looked the same but I wasn’t the same anymore.

I was taken.

Like property.

Like something that could be exchanged for money.

I thought of my mom. She wouldn’t even know I was gone. I thought of the job I hated. The customers. The noise. The uniform. I missed it already.

And worst of all, I thought of my dad.

How he stood there, shaking. How he didn’t fight. How he let them take me.

I swallowed hard and finally let the tears fall. Quiet. Angry. Burning down my cheeks.

I didn’t know where they were taking me.

I didn’t know what would happen next.

At some point, I closed my eyes.

Not to sleep.

Just to disappear for a minute.

I don’t know how long I was out.

But I woke up when the car stopped.

The air was still.

Too still.

I blinked and looked out the window.

My heart dropped.

We were parked in front of a gray, windowless building, surrounded by a chain-link fence. Barbed wire curved over the top like the teeth of a monster. No signs. No noise. No one in sight.

Just that building, staring back at me like it had been waiting.

I tried to open the door.

Locked.

“Where are we?” I asked, voice barely a whisper.

No one answered.

The man in black got out and opened the back door.

“Welcome,” he said, smiling coldly. “You’re home now.”