Eliana
Now…
I was five years old, snooping around my father’s office. I liked the smell of it. It reminded me of him, and when he was away, I’d sit here for hours while my nannies would look for me. I sat in his large leather chair and pretended to boss people around the way I usually heard him doing. When that became boring, I decided to read a book. Tugging at one on a shelf far too high for a tiny thing like me, I accidently pushed too hard on his bookshelf.
A loud noise had me stepping backward. I’d broken something, and I knew I’d be in trouble since my father’s office was out of bounds; it was the biggest rule in our home. I’d been told that over and over again, yet here I was, pretending to be more grown up than I was.
The shelves parted slowly, like in a movie I’d once watched. Behind it wasn’t the wall I expected, but a long, seemingly endless passage. I knew I shouldn’t go in there, but hearing my nanny, Maria, shout my name, had me bolting inside, the shelves automatically closing behind me. Placing one foot in front of the other, I walked down the dimly lit passage that had doors with handles too high for me to reach all along it. I wondered what was in the rooms, assuming it was probably things I shouldn’t see. I eventually reached a dead end. Placing my hand on the wall, I willed it to move, to open and let me out, but nothing happened. I turned and headed back the way I’d come from until I heard a soft voice calling out for help. I followed the sound which seemed to be coming from the wall itself. And that’s when I saw it glistening in the dark like a beacon. A golden lever. I stretched up on my toes barely able to reach it. I couldn’t give up, though, someone needed my help. I jumped up and managed to latch onto the lever, tugging it down as hard as I could. The wall started sliding to the right, and I stumbled back, landing on my backside.
A woman was crouched on the floor. She had the bluest eyes I had ever seen, so blue they illuminated in the darkness. Her clothes were dirty and ruined, and I had no idea who she was or why she was in here.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Do you know where he is? My boy?”
I shake my head, feeling afraid.
“Can you help me get out of here?”
“I’m locked in. Are you going to tell my Daddy I was here?”
“No, no, of course not. And there has to be a way out, show me the way you came in from.”
I nodded. She stood slowly, and when she got closer, I noticed all the cuts and bruises on her arms.
“What happened to you?” Her eyes were wide, and I could tell she was scared.
“I’ll be all right. It’s just a few scratches, but you’ve got to get me out of here, okay, honey?” She sounded like Maria when she wanted me to eat my food or do my homework like a good girl.
I turned and started down the passage, looking behind me every so often to make sure she was following me. I had no idea how I would get out of this secret area, as I’d come to think of it, but something told me that I had to.
When we reached the place the bookshelves were, I pushed against it. The woman helped, too, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried one more time, and when light started to stream in, I almost jumped for joy. But my smile fell when I saw my father.
My eyes flicker open slowly, my head lulling forward then back again. I try to stretch but realize my hands are restrained behind me. I’m drowsy, so drowsy, I can barely keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. That dream. Was it a dream at all? How could I have buried something like that in my mind for so long? It feels, important.
“Where am I?” I wonder, unsure if I am saying the words out loud or if it’s in my mind. I backtrack my thoughts to try and figure out where I am. The engagement party. I’m in San Diego. And then it comes to me. Brax. We were in the hotel. I’d come out of the shower, changed into sweats and a t-shirt in the bathroom, and when I walked into the bedroom, Brax was on the floor, and there was some blood. I reached for him, but strong arms tugged me back, what I assume was a cloth pressed over my nose and mouth.
I pick my head up and looked at the room around me. It looks like a sleezy motel room. I’ve been in a few as a teenager, they’re a great place to get drunk and make out with guys without our parents knowing. I’m tied to the headboard of a bed, and it’s already daylight. As a feeling of horror hits me at the realization that I have been here all night, a brute of a man walks in through the door, a fast food bag in his hands. I don’t recognize him.
“Where am I? Who are you?” I tug against the restraints.
He ignores me and proceeds to remove the contents of the bag onto the small table in the room. He walks toward me, and walking behind me, he starts to fumble with the restraints on my hands.
“There are two men outside the door, one by the window and me in here. You try to escape, I won’t hesitate putting a bullet through your brain, understood?”
“Will you at least tell me how long I’ve been here?”
“One night,” he grunts.
When my hands are free, I rub at my wrists. Ugly red marks cover them. I have to believe that Brax is out there looking for me. It’s the only thing that keeps me from quivering in fear. I’ve heard that the best thing to do in a situation like this is to be calm, not aggravate the kidnappers, and cooperate as much as possible.
He points to the food, but the last thing I’m thinking about is my stomach. A large lump is lodged in my throat as I sit at the table staring at the food. I reach for the paper cup, taking a sip of the disgusting coffee. I scrunch my nose, and the brute guffaws.
“Not to your liking then?”
I don’t respond but continue sipping the terrible drink. This entire thing makes no sense. Why would anyone want to kidnap me? The only plausible explanation is that it has to do with my father, something to do with one of his underhanded business transactions. In my world, trading lives is a game.
When I refuse to eat the food, the man wolfs it all down in front of me. “Your loss, sweetheart.” His phone rings, and he steps out of the motel room to answer it. I walk to the door, pressing my ears against it.
“I said she’s fine,” he growls. “So will you let me do my job and stop pestering me?”
“He’s working for someone,” I say under my breath, moving back to my seat at the table before he returns. Apparently, my life hangs in the balance of some unknown enemy.
The man returns and eyes me suspiciously. “I won’t tie you up if you sit tight. You’ll be out of my hair soon enough.” What is that supposed to mean? Will I be moved somewhere else? I want to look outside, try to gauge where I am. He leaves the room again, and this time I do peek through the window, but the surroundings are totally unfamiliar. For all I know, these men could have driven me miles away from San Diego. There are so many possibilities.
I sit at the table again, my head in my hands. Brax will find me. He has to.
