Stolen Love

2*

I wake up from one nightmare only to find myself in another, but this one doesn't go away when I open my eyes.

The car starts to bounce up and down roughly which is what woke me. Male voices I don't recognize are speaking in hushed whispers. I can barely hear them over the sound of the tires on gravel.

I feel petrified, especially since one of them has me wrapped in his arms. I almost let out a sigh of annoyance and frustration, but I keep it in last second. The last thing I want is for them to know I'm awake. In every crime show I've seen, the killers always wait for their victims to wake up before the torture ensues.

Are these shows exaggerated? Yes. But do I want to take my chances? Most definitely not.

The only way for me to remain calm is to just pretend that I'm on a road trip with my family and Ryan. Everyone would be singing out of tune and laughing about it. Then the teasing would begin where Caleb's lack of maturity would shine. I'd lean against Ryan as Caleb takes it too far and the twins gang up on him. I almost start to smile at the thought, but it is wiped away immediately.

The car starts to slow down and comes to a stop. My imaginary world shatters as I realize: this is the end.

"We're here," the driver says loudly.

"Shh," the one holding me says as if he cares, "She's still sleeping." His voice is as deep as an abyss and resonates through his chest like echoes.

"I don't see how she's still sleeping. She had all night and now she practically slept half the day."

The guy holding me shrugs, "She did put up a fight. Besides, she has some," he pauses thinking of a word, "adjusting to do. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I guess."

I hear a door open. I'm guessing its the front since it didn't sound like it was right next to me. A few moments later, one of the back doors is opened and the guy holding me starts shuffling our way out. He's gentle and smooth in his movements, like a small wave in the water. He is trying really hard not to wake me, but I don't know why.

Before he lifts me up, he removes the blindfold from my eyes. I do my best to make myself look like I'm sleeping. I relax my closed eyes, make sure my breathing is steady, and put on the most neutral look on my face I can muster. It sounds easy, but it's really difficult to be calm when it could be the difference between life and death.

My face must be good, or at least somewhat convincing, because he buys it. "She looks so beautiful, so young," the man holding me says softly to his friend.

My temper is short, and I feel like I'm about to blow up on him. I am young- younger than him anyways- and how dare he call me beautiful. I can't believe he actually thinks he can say that about me.

He moves his hand to the side of my face to my cheek. His touch is soft, gentle. It sends shivers up my spine and causes my stomach to churn. I have to fight the recoil that almost escapes.

He gets out of the car and carries me as if I weigh nothing. How can I fight against someone so strong? It scares me: not being able to fight or look where I am. It's one of the worst situations I could be in. For all I know, we could be just outside a medieval castle with a moat full of crocodiles around it.

I watch too much tv.

The driver says, "Are you sure you don't need help?"

"I'm sure. Thank you, Danny. You can leave now. I got her from here."

I'm almost insulted that he thinks I'm that easy to control, but now isn't really the time for my somewhat arrogant attitude. I just need to make it to tomorrow.