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I couldn’t recall. The entire ordeal was foggy, as though it hadn’t happened only minutes or maybe an hour ago. Time seemed to stand still, and I had no idea how much had passed.
A familiar but unexpected sound caught my attention. It sounded like water rustling, but it wasn’t coming from inside the room. Perhaps there was a lake or a river nearby.
A motor roared to life and I fell back onto the pillows from the motion. Somehow, I was moving. Not me physically, but this apartment. No, this room. Whatever the heck this was.
As implausible as that seemed, I couldn’t deny the momentum and speed at which the place moved. Then, in a moment of clarity, it hit me.
I was on a boat.
Oh no! No, no, no….
It was one thing to run away from my kidnappers on land, but by sea? That would be impossible.
This nightmare was becoming worse and worse. I had no idea where in the world they were taking me.
I rubbed my face against the pillow, loosening my blindfold. I needed to see where we were headed and maybe wave down another boat before we were too far off the coast.
With one firm push, the black fabric slipped off the top of my head. The light irritated my eyes, forcing me to shut them quickly. Hesitantly, I opened them again, allowing only a sliver of light to penetrate so I could look around.
I was indeed inside a boat. There was a king-sized bed in the middle of the large room. Dark wood-paneled walls lined the room with a sectional couch set up in one corner.
I ran to the window and searched for other boats. There were none. It was November and while the snow hadn’t started yet, the rough gray sea probably wasn’t as appealing as a warm summer day.
I ran for the door, but it was locked. I shook it with all my might, but it was well-built and barely budged.
“Help!” I shouted and pounded my tied fists against the door. “Help me, please!”
I didn’t know to whom I was shouting. Only that it made me feel better to scream and rail. I pounded against the door until I was exhausted, and my wrists bled from the cable tie cuts. Then I slid my body down to the carpeted floor, closed my eyes, and cried.
What felt like hours passed until the boat’s motor quieted and my body no longer felt pressed up against the door. The ship now swayed gently in the water and I pulled myself up and together.
Glancing out the window, I saw nothing but gray blue water for miles. No land, no other boats or ships. Nothing but a blue abyss.
Then I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I ran to the back of the room and struggled to find something to defend myself with. There were no lamps, only sconces on the walls, and no chairs that weren’t nailed down to the floor. I opened the drawers and while a few were filled with towels and clothes, I found one with a radio inside. I grabbed it between my hands and held it in front of me.
The door knob turned, and a man walked in. He still wore a black balaclava over his face, which was a hopeful sign. If he was covering his face, perhaps he planned to set me free after he got what he wanted. Maybe this was all about a ransom. If not money, then to get my mother to not sign off on that controversial bill she had mentioned earlier. I wished I’d paid more attention that morning.
He grunted when he saw me and shook his head. He reached for the blindfold on the bed and then for me. I pulled away and waved the radio in front of me like a blunt sword.
“Get away from me,” I shouted. “Don’t touch me.”
He snatched the radio from my hands and threw it onto the floor. It bounced on the carpet and lay dead at the foot of the bed.
He grabbed me from behind and struggled to put the blindfold on me again. To my credit, I didn’t make it easy for him. To his credit, he didn’t knock me out trying. Finally, having accomplished his task, he let me go.
I panted after the embarrassingly short struggle and slid down to the floor again. I propped my elbows onto my knees and dropped my head onto my hands.
“Shit,” he whispered. “Those idiots didn’t use the wristbands like I’d told them to.” He muttered and walked away.
A few minutes later, he crouched next to me on the floor and gently pressed a cotton pad onto my wrist.
“Sss,” I hissed at the pain. He must have put alcohol on the pad.
“I’m sorry, but I have to clean these up or they can get infected.”
I gritted my teeth as I allowed him to clean my wounds. He softly brushed the pad along my skin, careful not to press too deeply. His gentleness would have made me weep had I not been scared for my life.
After he’d finished cleaning my wrists, he wound a soft fabric over my skin until I only felt the pressure of the cable tie, but no pain.
