Chapter 2

I had a throbbing headache, but I was starting to regain a semblance of consciousness. I felt what I thought were car vibrations and heard the sound of an engine. There was a piece of cloth wrapped over my eyes and another over my mouth. My hands were bound in front of me with what felt like handcuffs, and my shoes were gone. I was starting to come to, and fear washed over me once I realized what had happened. I had been kidnapped.

I hurriedly pushed the blindfold up on my forehead. I could tell that I was lying down in a very dark but spacious car trunk. I heard a man talk. It sounded like he was shouting from a phone. I tried to take a few breaths to slow down my heartbeat so I could focus on hearing.

"Si, la tenemos. We have his daughter," said the voice. The man he was talking to started screaming, but I couldn't hear what he was saying.

"Yes, but…"

The man on the other end of the phone call started to shout again.

"Si, la estamos llevando alla," answered the one in the car.

The conversation then ended.

"He is not happy?" asked another male voice.

"Que piensas, idiota!" shouted the other.

I did my best to keep calm. I, thankfully, remained fluent in Spanish after leaving Mexico and could understand the bilingual conversation perfectly. They were taking me somewhere, and someone was not happy with that, probably with the kidnapping logistics.

Perhaps something hadn't gone as planned. Since I was in the trunk of a car, with what appeared to be at least two men based on the tones of their voices, there was nothing I could do before the car stopped, other than count the seconds in order to avoid the panic attack that was threatening to consume me alive.

I desperately wanted to wake up, find out this was all a dream, that I was back in my room, but every time I reopened my eyes, I was faced with unforgiving darkness and the terrible smell of confined spaces.

The drive felt eternal to me. It seemed like we had been driving for hours, and I was doing my best to try to keep track of how much time was passing by. Finally, the car came to a full stop, and as I heard doors open and close, I quickly pulled the blindfold back down over my eyes.

The trunk popped open and someone lifted me up, startling me, so as I got out of the vehicle I punched the person with my tied hands, landing straight in their face. The self-defense lessons that Chloe, one of my best friends, had forced me to take, finally proved useful. The person let go of me, and I fell heavily to the ground. I quickly removed the blindfold and tried to get up, but the person I hit was faster. I fought as best I could, but the person held me back up as another much shorter and petite one appeared before me. It appeared to be a woman. She landed a punch to my face, stunning me.

I closed my eyes and screamed in pain, but the man took no pity on me and lifted me while holding my hands. I kept moving, terrified of what they would do to me, but another man intervened and lifted my feet. I understood that I had lost the battle. He put the blindfold back over my eyes violently as I heard a door open.

"You're going to pay for this!" screamed the woman in English, with a heavy accent. "I'm going to make sure your time here is hell, you spoiled bitch!"

At her words, a paralyzing fear rose inside of me—the realization that I could die.

"Put her in here," ordered the woman.

The men who carried me dropped me down on cold, wet ground. I winced as my side hit the floor, but I refrained from expressing my pain further. Someone came over and removed the blindfold from my eyes.

I had trouble seeing, adjusting to the light and space around me. At first, I couldn't make out my attackers' faces well because they were wearing masks, and we were in a room with barely any light. I could hear the sound of water dripping from the roof in a corner to my right.

I finally was able to see the figures of two large men, tall and muscular. The woman stood in the middle of the two, a bit shorter, with straight black hair cascading over her shoulders. All three of them were wearing masks and dark clothes. It was clear that she was the leader of the group. She looked at me with cold hatred, and a mocking smile danced on her lips. I wondered what I could have possibly done to this woman to justify how she was treating me.

"You're going to sleep here. I'm sure the accommodations will be to the taste of the princesita. Don't be afraid when rats and insects come to visit you," she warned in a heavy Latin accent, bursting out laughing.

She took a few steps in my direction and lifted my left hand. With her other hand, she smiled at me as she ripped the diamond ring from my finger. I wanted to strangle her, but really that ring didn"t mean as much to me as it should. I didn"t care if she had it. Thankfully, she didn't seem interested in my bracelet, the only jewelry I really cared about.

The woman walked out of the room, the two men following her. I was too scared to even say a word, my heart pounding in my chest, my legs shaking. I held back a cry of horror when they closed the door and I realized how dark it was in the room.

The only light source came from a window above a mattress on the left. Now that my eyes were getting more adjusted to the dark, I saw some insects climbing on the wall to my right. Withholding a cry, I tried to get a little farther from it.

It was clear that I had been kidnapped, and the kidnappers intended to keep me there. I assumed they would want a ransom, probably from Richard.

He would pay for it—I hoped—not out of love but out of obligation. He couldn't stand being laughed at. I had at least that for comfort. Richard wouldn't stand for being made a fool. In the meantime, I had to face the fact that I was so cold and tired, but I did not dare to sit down. How long would I have to stay wherever the hell I was before Richard helped me?

After two hours of standing, I reluctantly chose a place to sit—the only place in the room illuminated by the moonlight…the mattress. My tight dress wasn't the best of outfits for this situation. I was cold and very uncomfortable.

The headache that had been creeping up on me was now pounding. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe deeply. No one would come to help me this evening, so all I could do was control my heart rate, try to stay calm, and save my energy for whatever was to come.

I woke up to the sound of voices and my head throbbing with intensity. For a few seconds, I forgot where I was. When I recognized the stinking mold and wet smell of the room, I stood up abruptly, my ribs hurting from being dropped to the floor earlier. The voices grew louder outside. It seemed like it was still dark. I had no sense of what time it was. Bile rose from my stomach, and I began to shout, "Get me out of here! Get me out of here! Help! Help!"

The door opened abruptly, and someone came in with full force, pushing me violently to the ground.

"Karina! Stop!" ordered a man's voice.

Karina, who was about to hit me, froze. It was the same woman from earlier. I tried to quickly get up even though my left arm was hurting because I wanted to show these criminals that I was not afraid, even if I was terrified. The man who had given the order entered the room.

"Juan, take her to the other room, and untie her hands when you get there."

He just stood there, hands crossed behind his back. I was trying to see his face when I noticed he wasn't wearing a mask, but he had strategically placed himself in a dark corner, the shadows getting in the way. Perhaps it was for the best. Generally, kidnappers didn't let their prisoners stay alive if they could help the police identify them.

"Yes, chief," replied the man they had just referred to as Juan.

Juan grabbed me by the arm to lead me toward the door. As I walked by the man who clearly gave the orders, considering how he had screamed at Karina and had decided my fate, I freed myself from Juan to charge toward him, but I was stopped in my tracks. As I turned to pull away again, I saw Karina rush toward me, raising her fist and landing a blow to my face, causing my ears to ring.

As I was recovering from the hit, I felt Juan grab my arm as he began to drag me away. Once out of the room, I let myself be guided. It was clear there was nothing I could do at the moment, and it wasn't worth getting hurt further for a futile attempt.

Juan took me through a very dark corridor. Finally, he opened a door, removed the handcuffs, pushed me into a room, and closed the door behind me. I stayed right behind the door, desperately looking for a light switch to identify what new hell I was in.

I finally felt myself breathe when I flipped a light switch, and a very dim light came on. I was in a small room with a single window, much too small to escape from. There was a twin bed by the wall as well as a bedside table.

I was overcome with fatigue and fear, living the worst of nightmares, but at least there was a bed and no crawling insects––a slight upgrade from the first room. Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I sat on a corner of the bed. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I realized this unimaginable situation was becoming my horrifying reality.

I tried to stay calm, though. I couldn't let these assholes win.

About two days passed with me locked in the room. One of the men brought me food twice a day. I managed to sip a little bit of water, but I couldn't bring myself to eat.

If this was for money, I would hopefully be out of this place sooner rather than later. All I could do to keep my sanity was force myself to think of happy thoughts, to go back to memories that made me happy, and ignore the sense of doom that was threatening to engulf me.

To ground myself, I focused on memories of my wonderful college days, far from my stepfather. I focused on the wonderful trips I had taken with my friends, back when my life was filled with hope and excitement for what was to come.

Perhaps my mistake had been going back to California, back to my stepfather, who clearly was the reason I was taken in the first place. There was no other explanation. I couldn't fathom what he could have possibly done and what role I was to play in it.

It was, of course, always possible that my situation was just bad luck. People knew my family had money, and perhaps that was all it took for someone to decide they had the right to take my freedom, and my life, away from me.