Coming Back to Life

The twisting of my hair brought me screaming back to real life.  The man who kidnapped me from right outside my dorm room was waking me up by yanking me off the floor by my hair.  I didn’t know who he was or what I was doing here so I was trying to figure out my next step.  Somewhere along the line I had fallen asleep and quickly realized that had been a mistake.  I was never going to get my jump on him if I continued to fall asleep as soon as he left. 

“Call your parents again.  This time leave a message if they don’t answer.  Use this phone,” he whispered into my ear.  I heard the phone ringing and I prayed someone would answer so I could hear their voices one more time.  I almost cried when my brother answered the phone. 

“Hey Uncle Bobby!” he said. 

“Shit,” was the last thing I heard. 

Hours went by before I came to again.  This time, I wasn’t lying on the cold, hard cement floor of a basement, but I was outside and in a field.  The dampness of my clothes told me I had probably been outside for a fairly significant amount of time.  I flexed my wrists and ankles and found I was no longer bound, but I still had no idea where I was.  Or why the uncle I thought was dead had kidnapped me.  Or why he was in contact with my brother. 


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