Sometimes when you wake from a deep sleep, your entire body lingers in the place of dreams, and moving beneath the covers of your bed, is like pulling taffy from it’s loom.
This was not at all like that.
When I awoke, it was the sudden burst of chilled air from beyond the hall which called me forth from my stupor. The slamming door was only added for good measure.
“What the hell were you thinking? She wasn’t supposed to be here yet.”
“It’s not like I had a choice. There were too many spectators to just leave her in the car. Besides my end of the bargain is done. If she’s here too early for your liking than you can bring her back.”
“You know very well I can’t do that.”
“Not my problem.”
Not a problem indeed. I didn’t fancy myself to normally be anyone’s problem, but as I listened to their conversation and took in my surroundings, it became quite clear that I didn’t have all the facts.
For starters, My body had been tied to the chair where I currently sat with thin ropes which crisscrossed my legs and chest, and were wound quite tightly around my hands and feet. Fortunately I could still feel all of the tiny digits, so my circulation wasn’t impaired but that by no stretch of the imagination meant that I was the least bit comfortable.
My heart raced in my chest as I tried to remain as clear headed as possible, but the stark wooden cabin around me offered no clue as to why I was here or who my kidnappers were. In fact the last thing I could remember was stepping outside my apartment and then. Nothing. A dark gaping hole in my memory.
The weight of the ropes on my chest made it harder to breath, and within moments I started to quietly heave. I hadn’t had an asthma attack since childhood but there in the cold, pine scented room, only feet away from two total strangers, tied up and confused, the familiar clenching pulled at my lungs and made tears spring to my eyes.
Shaking, I closed my eyes and prayed, let this all be a dream. A nasty nightmare.
“So are we going through with this or not?”
“Yes we are.”
“Well, you better get your shit together cause she’s not gonna be out much longer.”
“Don’t you think I know that asshole.”
My eyes shot open and I sucked in a sharp breath.
I knew that voice.
“Don’t call me an asshole, asshole.”
“Oh sure, brilliant remark, just what I’d expect from someone of your type.”
It couldn’t be him. But the holier than thou airs he put out couldn’t be anyone else. What the hell was going on?
Suddenly, I wasn’t nearly as scared as I should be, I was pissed.
“My type? What the hell does that mean? In case you hadn’t noticed you’re the sick fuck who wanted to kidnap his own wife. I wouldn’t start pointing fingers if I were you.”
“Ex-wife. And sure whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
Their joined foot steps echoed in the hall, and all that anger drained away as fear filled me so completely that I forgot to breath.
So when their hands finally touched me, I’d already died.
Inside at least.
So that was my first bit of flash fiction for the month. I found the prompt on Writer’s Digest.
You wake up shackled to a chair and can’t remember how you got there. Two voices are talking. You recognize one of them.
It was supposed to be 500 words or less and it wound up being 570ish so meh. I’m kind of bad with word counts. In any case, if you have an constructive criticism please feel free to leave it in the comments. Happy scribbling.