(Eva)
My shift at Moxie had run very, very late. The restaurant seemed to grow in popularity every week, and Derek and I had been running all over trying to keep our tables happy. The guys had been trying to get me to quit my job, but I loved the independence the money I made from it gave me. I had been able to start saving up a nice little nest egg. Derek had become a pretty good friend as well, and I enjoyed hanging out with him during my shifts.
I probably should have called Damon like he had requested, but the cool night air felt good on my face compared to the stifling heat of the restaurant, and I liked pushing back at his bossiness sometimes. I walked along the sidewalk, thinking about nothing in particular, savoring the sounds of the city as usual. I would never take New York City and her beauty for granted.
The streets were quieter than usual, the ever-present crowd dwindled in presence due to the late hour. My thoughts turned to my glorious day with Beckham. His new movie had been even better than the other one, and I loved seeing the light flush to his cheeks when I praised his work.
I heard rustling behind me, catching my attention and making me look behind me to see if anyone was there. I didn't see anything. Nevertheless, I quickened my pace, the ease of my walk faltering. There was one spot in my walk that I always hated, where I had to go down a narrower alley, and it was coming up. I was tempted to try and stop and get a cab, but I hadn't seen one pass my route tonight, and I would rather get home quicker than waiting around for one. I took my ear plugs out of my ears, hopeful that my newly acquired sense of sound would come in handy if anyone was actually following me.
Furthering my resolve to make it home on my own, I hurried my steps even more, determined to make it through the upcoming alley at a breakneck pace. I made it to the end of the alley, relieved to see the streetlights in front me signaling I was close to the college. I stepped past the wall into the street, when suddenly a coarse bag was forced over my head, making me fall forward onto my hands and knees on the sidewalk. I struggled as rough hands grabbed me harshly by the arms, pulling me up off the ground, and attempting to pull me forward. I began to struggle, attempting to scream, but I was sure the bag was preventing any sound from getting out.
A cord was tied around my wrists, the cord digging and ripping my skin as I struggled. I was dragged, kicking and screaming the whole way. I was thrown into an enclosure, realizing it was some kind of vehicle when I heard the engine start up. I panicked even more and began to throw myself around the cabin of the vehicle, desperately trying to garner some attention from outside. Something solid hit me in my temple hard. Everything immediately went black.
I groggily opened my eyes and immediately began to struggle again, only this time I could move even less since someone had sat me on a chair and tied my legs and arms to it so I couldn't move. My head was pounding from where I was hit, and there was an ache in my left shoulder. I was in a dimly lit room in what looked like someone's basement. There was a single light bulb in the center of the room, and I could see wood stairs in the corner of the room leading upwards. As I continued to look at my surroundings, my horror grew.
There was a block of metal in the ground with what looked like chains attached to it. There was a dingy twin mattress beside it, with a faded quilt folded up at the foot of it. In another corner, there was a temporary toilet. I recognized it only because Mrs. Anderson had been a fanatic about food storage and emergency preparedness, so she had owned a few. I knew they had contemplated putting one of those temporary toilets in the attic so they wouldn't have to let me out at all. Mr. Anderson had convinced his wife that it wasn't a good idea, I'm sure so he could continue to fondle me when he let me out of the attic to use the restroom.
Shaking my head at this unhelpful train of thought, I examined the room again looking for anything else. None of the room items were a good sign. I had read enough books to know that situations like this meant that the kidnapper had prepared to hold you for the long haul. My throat started to close up as panic overtook me. Stupidly the first thought I had was about missing class. I loved my classes and everything about college, and who knew how long it would be before I was let go or I escaped, if I ever escaped at all. I began to rock back and forth futilely until the chair tipped over. I hit my head again on the floor as the chair crashed on the hard concrete. My head was spinning. The combination of the hit from earlier, and now the knock on the concrete, meant that I had to have a concussion. I wretched from the pain in my head, the vomit splattering all over my hair, face, and clothes. I sobbed involuntarily.
How had I gone from having everything I could want, to this? I tried to listen to see if I could hear anything, but my ears had begun ringing too much from my head trauma to make anything out. I stopped struggling, and just laid there continuing to weep. The basement was cold. Combined with the concrete floor and my injury, I had begun shivering uncontrollably.
My 18th birthday had been five days from when I was kidnapped. I wasn't sure how long I had been passed out, so I didn't know how close my birthday was now. I wondered if any amazing powers would appear like the guys had thought would happen. I mean escaping would be a nice present too, I laughed to myself. I bet the boys had planned something big for my birthday. I began to daydream what they had planned, while the cold continued to seep into my bones. Hours passed, my vomit from earlier had congealed and I could feel that my hair was now in clumps. I couldn't believe that no one had come for me yet. My mind imagined scenarios where I had actually been left somewhere alone for good, doomed to die alone in this basement of starvation or thirst. I eventually cried myself to sleep, overwhelmed with tiredness from my head injury and from crying so much.
I awoke when I felt a wet washcloth sliding across my face, softly cleaning up the vomit from before. My head still ached, and my eyes had trouble focusing. The confusion of being woken up by touch stayed as I realized who was in front of me cleaning me up. It was Anna Darcy, the Reverend's wife.
"Mrs. Darcy?" I inquired stupidly.
She refused to look at me, keeping her eyes focused on the task of cleaning me up. I was still tied to the chair so I began to rock back and forth again on the floor where I had fallen, trying to get her to look at me.
"You have to help me. I've been kidnapped. Please help me!" I cried to her.
Suddenly she clasped a hand over my mouth.
"Be quiet, you stupid girl. You don't want him to come down here."
I still didn't understand what was going on.
"Please!" I begged her. "Please go get Reverend Darcy. Surely he will help?"
She stopped trying to clean me up, and looked at me with a sad expression filled with pity.
"Who exactly do you think brought you here Eva?" she asked softly.
Suddenly understanding the situation, I wretched again, nothing really coming up this time but stomach bile, as I hadn't eaten in probably a day. I remembered his frequent visits to the house after the fateful lunch when I had found my acceptance letter, and the frustration and desperation he seemed to have on the night I had escaped. I had been so preoccupied with trying to escape that I hadn't put much thought into his visits besides thinking they were strange.
The sick feeling of dread in my stomach increased. I wondered if the Anderson's had a role in this. I was such an idiot. I had been so caught up in the excitement of the world that the boys were offering me, I had totally forgotten to take into account the publicity I had been getting. Of course, someone from my past was going to find me. Why in the world had I thought that the Andersons and the Reverend wouldn't get wind of where I was just because they lived in a small town? There had been pictures of me everywhere after the media got wind that Mason or Damon (they didn't know about Beckham yet) might be dating me. I stopped struggling and laid my head down on the concrete, feeling defeated. Anna must have been satisfied with the job she had done wiping off my face, because she stood up and dusted herself off.
"Do you want to stay on the ground or do you want me to help pull the chair up?" she asked.
"Just leave me here," I responded despondently. I'm sure anger would come eventually, but right now all I was feeling was fear and hopelessness. I didn't know how I was going to find my way out of this one.
"Reverend Darcy is finishing a sermon, and will be down later," she said, weirdly referring to her husband by his church title. "This will go better for you if you try and cooperate," she said stiffly, like she was trying to convince herself as well as me.
I closed my eyes, and decided to ignore her. I could feel the weight of her stare on me for a moment more before I heard her walk away, the creak of the stairs signaling she had left the room. She further ensured I would hate her for the rest of my life when she flipped the light switch, the room immediately going pitch black.