Page 4 of A Pawn in the Game
“Love you, too.”
She cares for me, like a mom. Although we’re pretty much the same age. But I understand her worries. Especially with my history.
Like promised, I make myself some veggie wraps for dinner and eat them on the couch, while searching Science Direct for interesting new articles.
The next day turns to night before I even notice. I shut down the computer after I’ve been stuck at my desk the whole day, trying to solve a glitch in our code. My firm is currently working on developing a new messaging app, one that’s supposed to take over the world. Messaging apps aren’t my passion, but the pay is good and, more importantly, I get to work from home. I solved the glitch relatively fast, of course, but it caused a butterfly effect of other issues I had to deal with. So, following a full day’s worth of work, I’m only slightly ahead on my project.
I raise the glasses, which are only needed when I work on the computer, to the top of my head and rub my dry and tired eyes with my fingers. It doesn’t help, so I search the desk for my eye solution and pour a couple of drops in each one. I blink twice, and the relief is instant.
Clenching my fists, I try to ease some of the pain in my curled fingers, but Alan’s barking interrupts me. Time for his walk.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I tell him, slipping my feet into my shoes.
We take a walk every day at seven o’clock on the dot. It started as an intentional habit to make myself leave the house, but it turned into a forced one, where Alan will bark my ear off unless we get going on time.
I lock the door behind me, once again wishing I had more locks in place. This isn’t a dangerous neighborhood, but it’s not a perfect one, either.
I’ve done the research for my block, and the few blocks surrounding it. I know the chances of something happening to me are minimal, but my heart still races as I connect Alan’s collar to the leash and step outside.
The internet describes it as anxious tendencies. Anxious tendencies that are so easy to get caught up in, avoiding any and all potential dangers, and ending up lethargic in my bed, unable to force myself out of it. So, I exercise, eat healthy, and every day, I take a walk in the dark.
Alan skips happily next to me, calming my nervous breaths. I longer my stride, determined to not let the fear consume me, but Alan tugs me aside every few steps, marking his territory. It happens so many times; it makes me chuckle, dissolving the rest of my nerves.
By the time we’re walking home, I’m enjoying the crisp evening air, with my shoulders held high. Alan breaks my serenity with a panicked bark, circling my legs frantically.
“Shh, boy. It’s okay.”
He doesn’t calm down, and a chill creeps up my spine. Just as it reaches my neck, I feel a prick, and my world turns dark.
CHAPTER 3
Sophie
My head is pounding, and my body weighs a ton. Why is my bed so uncomfortable?
The knowledge hits me like a knife to the chest and panic consumes me, quickening my breath and the frantic beat of my heart.
“She’s waking up,” a voice says, way too close to me.
I remember to open my eyes, but my world is still wrapped in darkness. I try to move my hands, but they are tied up, just like my ankles. My throat does its best to scream but there’s something in my mouth stopping it. Molten lava builds in my stomach, incapacitating me. My freeze response kicks in and my limbs are useless, unable to move.
My head scrambles to stay present, trying to rationalize what’s going on.
We’re moving.
Someone is carrying me.
I’m alive.
Other than the migraine I’m sporting, probably from the prick in the neck I’ve felt, I don’t seem hurt.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I try to use the grounding exercise that helps me with anxiety, but I can’t name five things I can see.I see nothing but black!
Four things I can feel.
I grip the ropes I’m tied with, rubbing the tips of my fingers on it. Next are my sweatpants. The soft fabric is a stark contrast to the rough ropes and my current emotional state. There’s not much to touch.
