Page 5 of Guarded from Danger

Birds calling in the distance.

Wherever I am is dark, but it’s starting to get lighter. The sun coming up?

Terror builds inside me, expanding so quickly I’m breathless with it.

Where am I?

Then, in a strike of clarity, I remember.

The person—it had to be a man—in my garage. Not smothering me, as I first thought, but drugging me.

And now I’m… somewhere.

I need tosee.

As light enters the room, I hold myself still. Hoping if someone else is here, they won’t know I’m awake.

But once the room is bright enough, I realize I’m alone.

And as I look around, each thing I notice makes me more afraid.

Sun filters through the cracks of boarded-up windows.

I’m not in a room, but what looks like a dilapidated cabin.

There’s no furniture. No blankets. No carpet.

In the corner, there’s a small pile of food—a few cans of tuna and vegetables, a box of crackers, and a case of water sitting next to them. Then the finishing touch, a hand-held can opener.

In the opposite corner, a thick rope hangs from the ceiling, long enough to coil against the floor.

It looks like there’s a hole in the floor, but it’s not big enough for someone to fit through.

The terror I’m barely managing to control makes another surge forward.

Where am I? Why am I here?

And then.

I realize the worst part of all.

I’m shackled. One around my wrist, the other my ankle—both attached to heavy chains bolted to the wall.

NO.

I’m not just scared. I’m petrified.

And I go a little bit crazy.

I leap up, swaying from dizziness, and race towards the door. But the chains jerk me back, and I go crashing to the floor.

Then I start yanking at the shackles, crying as I try to pull free. But all I manage to do is make my skin tear and bleed.

When my voice goes hoarse from screaming, I finally collapse into a heap. Tears scald my cheeks, and my chest hurts from the sobs bursting out.

Why am I here? How can I get out?

I’m so scared.

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