Sharon
Sharon’s breath quickened, but her feet rooted in place as the man’s leery eyes gave her an up-and-down. Run. C’mon, Sharon, you gotta start running. You gotta go! C’MON! But somehow, her feet remained still—paralyzed.
“Hey, dickbag.” The man called back over his shoulder to the driver without breaking eye contact with Sharon. “I might’ve just saved your ass. Come out here and help me a minute.”
He took a step towards. It was as if a switch had finally been thrown, Sharon turned and bolted.
“Hey!” the stranger called behind her as she fled.
She had never been much of an athlete, but the fear that turned in her stomach and the hurried heavy footfalls behind her urged her to run faster. Just as she was about to her lips to call for help, her foot slipped on a stray piece of dog shit and she crashed gracelessly to the concrete. Her cry for help choked in her throat and turned into a whimper of pain. She had almost gotten back to her feet when a big hand wrapped around her mouth.
“C’mere Blondie,” he whispered harshly. “We’re going for a ride.”
Sharon kicked and tried to scream. But the man was strong. He peeled her off the sidewalk as his strong tobacco-reeking hand clamped closer over her mouth and dragged her towards the van.
Not ready to give up the fight, Sharon tossed her body around, rammed his gut with her backpack, and bit down hard on his hand.
“Ow, bitch!” the man yelped. He yanked his hand back, away from her gnashing teeth, and hit her hard on the side of the head.
Spots danced across Sharon’s vision. She’d never been hit before, let alone that hard. Rough hands reached for her again and she instinctively kicked out.
“Little help would be nice!” the stranger growled again, exasperated as he struggled to subdue Sharon.
Sharon heard a car door shut, then footsteps as someone jogged lazily around the car. “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’. What, you can’t hold down some little blonde bitch?” It was the driver.
Together the two men stripped her out of the straps of her backpack, and shoved her towards the van.
“Help!” Sharon screamed desperately. “Help! Please! Somebody, help me!”
“Hey!” The first man wrapped a firm hand around her throat, closing her windpipe. “Shut the fuck up!”
Sharon’s vision began to fade as she lost oxygen. She stomped hard on her assailant’s foot and heard him hiss out in pain as he loosened—but never releasing—his grip on her throat. It wasn’t enough for her to try yelling again, but at least enough now she could draw in a breath.
Together, the two men hauled her wriggling, thrashing body towards the van. One of them pulled a well-abused roll of duct tape out of his pocket. One hand was held around her throat while they forced both her forearms out in front of her and bound them together with sloppy loops of tape.
The man who’d grabbed her held a strong arm around her waist while the other unrolled more tape. They released Sharon’s throat just long enough for her to take a deep, desperate inhale before slapping the newest piece of tape over her lips.
“Keep her there,” the shorter driver said. He meandered around the side of the van. Sharon’s entire body shivered with fear. She hoped and prayed with every fiber of her being that someone might come save her, but it was a vain hope. No one saw her and her attempts at screaming from behind the tape sounded more like pathetic humming than a cry for help.
The driver came back with a wet towel. With no emotion in his face, he pressed the soaked rag over Sharon’s nostrils. She shook her head violently, trying to hold her breath as long as she could. When she finally succumbed and took a breath, a sharp smell—almost like gasoline—shot into her nostrils.
The world began to dance in front of her eyes, gently swaying at first, then fading away completely like an unfinished watercolor painting that someone had smeared. Sharon’s knees weakened and her eyes close as the spinning sensation grew unbearable. Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, Sharon thought she heard a squeak like a door opening then closing.
“Good to go now? Let’s roll. We’re already late.” was the last thing she heard before the urge to sleep overtook her.