Chapter 3

Four days. That was the amount of time that passed, and I was left alone in a dim room with a bathroom break only once a day, when one of the men came to get me to take me across the hall.

The first couple days, I screamed, cried, knocked on the door, but they didn't care. All I heard was laughter and mumbled conversations.

Restlessness began to creep in after I realized the begging and pleading were doing me no good, so I chose to focus all my energy on breathing slowly, on my mental state.

If I let fear consume me, I was done for. And I couldn't be. I had a life waiting for me out there, goals, ambitions, so much I wanted to accomplish. I had to believe my life wouldn't end like this. It couldn't. I needed to escape. I needed to find a way.

I was losing track of time when one of my captors walked into the room. He was bringing me one of the plates of the day. He moved further into the room––as usual, avoiding any eye contact and always with a mask on––and he placed my plate on the floor, turning to quickly leave like he always did, as if being in the room with me for more than a few seconds would cost him something.

Before he was out the door, I gathered the strength to get up and go to him, grabbing his hand in mine, hoping human contact would help me plead my case.

"Please help me. I can pay you double whatever it is they are giving you. You seem like a nice person. Please, I need your help," I tried.

He did not answer. He just stared at me with those bored, dark eyes.

For a moment, I thought he might actually help me. Instead, he removed his hands from mine, hastily moved to the door, and proceeded to close it behind him.

I held the doorknob but let the door close. I had been observing that door for days now, at times playing with the knob, toying with a backup plan, thinking of ways to escape should I fail to appeal to his humanity, and I had. He would think that it was locked, but I knew better.

The door would not lock as he thought, because the doorknob did not close by itself as it normally would. I figured out that if I could hold the doorknob at the right time and with the right pressure, I could stop it from locking while someone who was not paying close attention would assume that it was. And this time, it worked.

I had learned to do this when I snuck out of Richard's house in my rebel days. You could hold a doorknob, close a door, and then slowly release it so that no one could hear it. I held my breath for a second to see if he would notice the different sound, but when nothing happened, I knew I was in the clear.

I was afraid to open the door, as I had no idea who was outside or what could be waiting for me. I stood there, frozen with fear, for what felt like hours but in reality was probably only minutes, as I waited for the voices I could hear to dissipate.

I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Maybe I could try another time, now that I knew how to do it. I could always wait for another day to try to escape.

No, I would not let fear paralyze me. This could be my one and only chance to escape from this place, and not taking a chance at freedom could turn out to be a life-or-death decision. The man might pay closer attention next time. He might realize the door did not lock well. I might be too slow or too fast and lose my chance for real.

I didn't consider myself a very brave woman, but I also didn't usually let fear control my life.

I was choosing to fake the courage I didn't feel for a chance at getting my life back, for a chance at survival.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the doorknob to the right and slowly opened the door. Hesitantly, I moved my head forward to see if there was anyone around. I saw a small, dimly lit corridor, but there was no one in sight.

I wasn't sure which way to go, but I noticed there was some natural light coming from my right. I closed the door without making a noise. Looking behind me almost every second, I started walking toward the light. The floor was cold under my bare feet, just like the room I was being held in. There was still no one in sight, and since the floor was made of cement, they couldn't really hear my footsteps.

I finally got to another door. It seemed to be my only way out, so I had to decide whether I was willing to take a chance on whatever was on the other side or go back to my prison.

I stood there for a moment, listening attentively to see if I could hear anything over my racing heart. The silence was not necessarily reassuring. I couldn't hear anything. I could, of course, go back to the corridor and head the opposite way, but I didn't have the strength to do so. I took a deep breath. Here we go. Life or death. I assembled the little bit of strength I found deep in myself and proceeded.

Grabbing the doorknob, I turned it slowly to the right. As the door opened, it creaked a bit. I quickly looked behind me, worried that someone would"ve heard the noise. There was no one. I opened the door a little wider and peeked through.

I found myself in a small, dark, and messy kitchen. There was some sort of a stove on my right, a fridge on my left, as well as a very beaten-up sink. There were several gallons of water on the floor and a skeletal kitchen island in the middle. That was where they must"ve been making my meals. That would explain the noise I would hear from the room.

I proceeded to the back of the kitchen where I could see an open door. Considering the amount of light that was coming in, I hoped it was a door to the outside. After a few more steps, I thought I might actually have a shot at freedom.

I got to the open door and finally stepped outside. I found myself in a beat-up backyard where the grass and cement appeared to be competing for space. I noticed three black-and-silver motorcycles parked outside. There was still no one there, and I could actually see a road. If I could only run to it, I would be free. I would be able to stop a car and get some help.

I hesitated again for a second, worried about what they might do to me if they caught me. But now wasn't the time to be scared or change my mind. I told myself I had to keep going.

I looked behind me one last time, then to my left and right, and started running low, trying to keep myself as close to the ground as possible, my dress making the task quite challenging. I stopped by the motorcycles, frantically looking for keys, but did not find any. Giving up on that idea, I continued running a little faster toward the open road.

Discovering a line of trees bordering the road, I decided it was my best chance for cover. I followed the road behind the trees for as long as I could. When I reached the end, all I could do was run or walk on the grass next to the road. There were no houses for miles, just empty land.

I had no idea where I was, and I hadn't seen one car pass by for the ten minutes I had been walking. The sun was out, bright and shining, beating on my bare back and shoulders. It looked like it would be hours before dark. My hope was to find either a ride or shelter by the time night came.

As if by magic, I saw a car speeding toward me––a pickup truck kicking up so much dust that I had to cover my eyes for a second and hold my breath.

The car sped past me, and I felt instant defeat. But as I was just about to continue my trek, I noticed the truck start to drift sideways as it came to a stop, blocking the street behind me completely.

Something didn't seem right, and I instantly questioned whether this person was a friend or enemy.

A man got out of the driver's seat, looking at me attentively for a few seconds. He then started slowly walking toward me, as if not to spook me. I didn't know if I should run away from him or stand my ground. It all depended on his intentions, and I had no control over that. As he got closer to me, I could finally see his face, although I couldn't make out his features very well.

He wore an angry scowl. He was wearing a pair of dark-blue jeans, a white shirt, and a perfectly tailored gray suit jacket. He had a gun tucked into the right side of his jeans. He started walking faster and faster toward me.

Panic invaded my senses, and I started running in the opposite direction with all my strength, my bare feet burning as they hit the hot concrete with force. I had to get away from this man as fast as I could. Perhaps another car would come by and help me.

Unfortunately, he was next to me in the blink of an eye. He grabbed me by the waist, spun me around, lifted me up, and before I knew it, he was carrying me on his shoulders. I was fighting him as best as I could, pulling on and scratching his jacket, kicking my feet—to no avail. He wasn"t fazed, his toned body too built to feel any of it.

"Let me go!' I screamed. "Let me go! You can't do this! LET. ME. GO!"

He held me tight with his left arm behind my knees, seemingly unharmed by my attempted attacks. I could no longer kick him as his strong forearm held my thighs firmly against his chest.

"Stop it!" he ordered brusquely in perfect English. "There is no point in fighting. There's nowhere for you to go!"

"Ahhhh!" I continued to scream even louder.

My hands were tired from aimlessly smashing against his hard back, but I had to continue fighting. He definitely was not the savior I was expecting him to be.

We got to his pickup truck, and he opened the back door, shoving me in on my back. I looked up, horrified, as he was getting in, closing the door behind him.

What was he going to do with me?

I started kicking, trying to push him out and looking behind me to find a way to open the door at my back. He abruptly held my legs to stop the kicking. With each of his hands holding my thighs apart at my knees, he pulled me violently toward him and positioned himself in between my legs and on top of me, his weight pinning me down. He was going to rape me—I was sure of it.

This couldn't be happening. My blood rose to my brain, but I couldn"t move. I was now not only screaming but also crying from fear. The idea of a stranger penetrating me against my will made me want to die.

"Please stop!" I pleaded. "Please, I'm begging you!"

Now that I could not move my legs, he grabbed each of my wrists. I closed my eyes, waiting for impact. I was sure he was going to hit me. Instead, he just held my wrists together.

"Damn it, stop fighting me!" he said. "I don't want to hurt you."

I opened my eyes, confused at what he just said.

Looking down at me were two dark eyes, angry and tired. Broad shoulders and thick, curly black hair framing a wide forehead, thick black brows, a straight nose, full sensual lips, a strong jaw, and a determined chin.

This man looked familiar. I had seen him before, but I didn't know where from. Why was he trying to take me?

While still holding my wrists together, his hand pressing my bracelet against my skin, he used his left hand to pull a black tie out of his right jacket pocket.

When I realized what he was going to do, I started moving away, trying to get out from under him. But the weight of his body on top of mine kept me under his control no matter how hard I fought. He moved my arms down and tied my wrists together tightly behind my back with his tie, his chest hard and strong against mine. He then reached down under the right seat and pulled out a rope.

He momentarily lifted his body up so he could grab my legs and started tying them together too. I was still trying to free myself, aggressively moving to undo the knot he did with the tie, but he was too fast. He was now done with my legs and was grabbing my wrists again to make sure I had not done too much damage to his knot. He lifted me from the seat and put me on the ground of the car. Closing the door, he walked to the front of the car and sat in the driver's seat.

"Now, we can do this one of two ways," he said as he turned to capture my attention. "You can lie back down where I put you and make this easy for yourself, or you can continue what is obviously a pointless and stupid attempt to escape until I tire and hurt you. You choose."

"Fuck you!" I screamed at him.

He did not flinch and continued to stare at me, a paralyzing intensity darkening his eyes even further. My hands turned cold. I was afraid, and I knew he was completely serious, and more importantly, he was right. He had a gun and could shoot me if he decided it was not worth the struggle. There was nothing I could do in the middle of nowhere. I had to accept defeat, at least temporarily.

I turned my head to stop facing him directly and reluctantly lay back down on the ground on my back.

"Good, you are not as stupid as you seem," he mocked, looking at me with a satisfied smirk on his face.

I was fuming. I would make it my mission to remove that fucking smirk from his face.

It was clear he was associated with the kidnappers, but this was the first time I saw one of their faces fully. If I had to guess, this man was probably the person who showed up after I was taken to the house. It sounded like the same voice, with a very slight accent, and he had a similar physical build.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. It was important that I controlled my emotions and not show my fears to this stranger. While I didn't know what he was capable of, the strength and intensity emanating from him gave me goosebumps and made a pit drop in my stomach. He scared me more than I cared to admit. I felt like I had run away from evil, only to fall in the hands of the devil himself.