Shadow Me

Five - And Then I'm Flying

Haley

It's surprisingly quiet when I get home the next morning. Usually the sound of screaming children and vacuums start around seven in the morning, but as I open my doors and call out to them, it's silent. I walk in and put my stuff in the coat closet, looking around, waiting for a toddler running clumsily to come find me, but nothing happens. I make my way toward the kitchen but find nothing. Not even a note. Zelda is the type to always leave a note. I consider the fact that maybe she didn't come as I make it up the stairs to my room, but pause at the foot of the stairs.

What is that? I think as I look down at three little specks of red on the beige carpeting. Bending down to see, it finally hits me what it is. I hold back the bile as I pull out my cell phone, ready to call emergency services when I hear something. There's no time to decide what it is because the second I hear it I'm already halfway running up the steps. To my room? No, too obvious.

I run into the master bedroom, which has a small passageway into the second bedroom - one that no one knows about. I close the door behind me as quietly as I can as I make my way to the abundantly filled closet. Why it's filled I don't know, since my parents are never home. Maybe it's just meant to look that way. I choke back my scream when I part the clothes in the small space like the red sea, only to find a true red sea. I try not to silently drown in my own tears as I swallow everything down at the scene in front of me.

Four bodies, bloody and vacant, lay before me. Zelda, and her three little boys. Zelda, with her eyes still open. The boys, with their bloodied clothes, laying against their Mom. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to block out the scene in front of me. It's another noise outside the closet that propels me past them, cursing myself for having to pull against their dead bodies and step over them to get to safety. No one was supposed to know about this spot. My breaths are panicked, and I know that pretty soon I'll be in the throes of a full on panic attack. But that doesn't matter, because I can't be here if I don't want to get caught. I move into the passageway and make my way into the next room, ready to fight. But no one's in there. Nothing but the pale yellow walls see me.

I hear whoever is in my home through the crawl space and slowly open the door of the bedroom to peek into the hall. Nothing there. As the noise in the passageway makes its way to me I open the door as quietly as I can to make my way into the hall, and get to the stairs. I take them two at a time, as quietly as I can, making my way back through the kitchen and back to the front door. I throw it open and scream as a man in all black pushes me back into my home and onto the ground. I kick backwards, trying to get away from him and turn to break into a full on run to the back door, only to be caught by another man in black. He steps in front of me as I skid to a stop, and turn to run some other way. I'm running out of directions to run in.

Cornered, I try to get away, moving like a feral animal.

One of the men grabs me by my shoulder.

"No!" I scream as I try to turn back around.

I push the man in front of me and he budges a little, but I'm yanked back and down to the ground by my hair. The one I pushed peers down at me, a terrible smile on his face, as if he isn't about to do something so evil I can't even imagine it. I don't want to die. Not like this. He steps down on my chest and pushes me into the ground as I suddenly find it harder to breathe. Flooring and concrete has never felt soft to me, but it feels absolutely plush to me with the feeling of sinking an inch to into the ground.

"What do you want?" I say as the other man comes around to look at me, bending down and putting something over my head.

I let out a small scream and rock back and forth, trying to keep him from doing whatever he's doing.

My world goes black. I'm flipped around, and my arms pulled backward at an aching angle only for something grating to be wrapped around my wrists.

"Just one thing, sweetie," one of the men says, "for you to stay quiet."

Something hard smacks me against the temple.

And what was once dark becomes darker.

***

I wake up, having been laying on my stomach, with a sharp throbbing against my temple, and my eye feels like it wants to explode. I want to switch my head from one side to the other to alleviate the pain, but I don't want whoever did this to me to know that I'm awake. I try slowly fighting against whatever's taken my hands hostage, to break the bonds keeping me from using my hands. Taking a minute to gather my thoughts, I recognize the distinct feeling of motion beneath me. I'm in a car or something. I've been taken. The thought should scare me more, but I think I've come to accept that something is not right, is never going to be right again. I want to cry. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes but damn it, no. Not for them. Not for this. I lay here, waiting for something to happen. The car stops.

My hands have been in these ropes too long, and my wrists are beginning to ache from fighting each other for freedom. The ropes restricting my legs are cut, and I assume I'm going to be walking soon. The second I pull my legs free I roll over and kick into space, eager to hit anyone near me. My right foot finds nothing but emptiness and a hand clamps down around my hair from over the sheet on my head. I expected it to hurt worse, but the cloth allows some slip from the hold I'm in, and I slip my head down and out of it, turning and kicking out with my legs as I do. This time I find what I can only assume to be the outside of a thigh. I hear a growl from one of the men who grabbed me, and a sense of small victory seeps into my mind. I lunge for his lower body in hopes that I'll take him down with me and find that my hopes were spot on. The feel of denim scratches at my face as I crash to the ground, jutting out my elbows to inflict some kind of pain.

"b***h!" the man calls out.

I can see where I am now. I'm in the back of a really big van. I begin crawling, my knees finding soft flesh as I move forward. This isn't going to work, I think to myself. There are two men here and you're only escaping one of them. But I have to try. The other man grabs my ankle and begins dragging me backward as the other man rolls out from underneath me. Just as I make the decision to roll over onto my back, I kick with my left leg and allow the force of that kick to turn me over. My foot hit something, but I'm not sure what. I kick again, but this time a hand catches my ankle and throws it down. Pain explodes inside my jaw as knuckles find my face, knocking the thought of self defense out of me long enough for the two men to put rope around my ankles again.

"Looks like we're gonna have to carry this one. Too much fight in her."

A few seconds pass as I enjoy the hassle I've made for these men. There's fight in me. I kick with both feet and find metal. One of the men grabs me and throws me over his shoulder. I thrash myself around. I'm not going to make this easy for him. His grip around my legs tightens. I thrash as hard as I can and find myself in a split second free-fall before hitting my back on the ground, hard. I groan. A painful thump rockets against my temple, again. I become disoriented and my hearing begins going out, but not before I hear one of them say one final word.

"There."

***

Hot water splashes onto my face. I wake to find my head plunged into something. A sink, a pail, a tub... I don't know. I start with a scream, but my voice is garbled. This was no splash. I'm being drowned. I begin to scream again, but realize it's not a good idea. There's a possibility no one is close enough to hear me, and I need all the air in my lungs I can get. I throw my weight around and I finally feel and realize that I'm on a chair. My legs and waist are tied to it, and my hands are tied together behind me. I should feel my own weight on my neck where the beginning of whatever is holding this water is, but I don't. Something must be holding my weight. I'm pulled back and I gasp for air as if my body is made of it, as if any amount I take in will never fill my body. There is no blood, there is no bone. There is just oxygen. I start to scream but a hand clasps around my throat. The pressure in my cheekbones builds.

"Where is the formula?" a deep, demanding voice asks me.

The grip around my throat breaks off. I push air inside my lungs and then cough.

"I asked you a question," the voice says clearly, "where's the formula?"

"I don't-" I cough. I can't seem to croak the words out of my mouth.

My head plunges back into the water, this time the heat of it stinging my cheeks. Again I'm pulled back. The water spills down my body. I've always hated the feeling of being in wet clothes. Underneath the sheet over my head, my bangs lay against my face. My eyes have two layers of cover over them. I swish my head back and forth, trying to get the hair out of my eyes. I'm forgetting something crucial. I'm not alone. The roots of my hair feel as though they'll be ripped out; my head is being pulled back. The muscles in my throat ache as I fight against what's restraining me. A voice whispers into my ear.

"I'm going to drown you if you don't tell me where the formula is."

I find this to be an empty threat. If I'm important enough to be kidnapped from home and questioned about a formula, I must not be disposable. I decide to keep this to myself, though. Making him aware I know this will only make him want to prove it more.

"What formula? I don't know anything about a formula," I finally manage to say.

My voice is strained. The weight of my own neck being pulled back, and pushed against my vocal chords is crushing the sound that wants to escape me. My head is pushed forward, but not held there.

"You sound young. I'd like to make this easier on you, but I can't do that unless you tell me about the formula."

His voice is more soothing now.

I remember now that voices soften when they're trying to manipulate you. Voices soften when someone wants to coax you. Let me take you out. I cringe as I hear Ryan's voice in my head, coaxing me against tree bark that scrapes at my skin. I feel... angry.

"I said I don't know anything," I grind out.

And then I'm flying.