You ever get the feeling someone’s watching you?
You don’t know how to act, what to do.
It’s like they can see and feel everything.
Feel his eyes on me.
-Thien-nga Palmer
“Great session today,” Jon, my trainer shouts
from across the parking lot.
“Thanks,” I reply, waving back at him. “See you
Thursday.” I turn my back to him and continue heading to my own vehicle.
Just as I hit the unlock button on my keychain, I
see something out of the corner of my eye. Before I know it I’m being lifted off
the ground. I fight back, kicking, punching, trying anything to free myself of
the tight grasp, but nothing works. “Help! Help me!” I’m screaming at the top
of my lungs. “Jon!”
Jon is probably long gone by now and my heart
feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. I feel my keys being ripped
from my hands; I’ve never been this frantic before. “Please!” I plead,
screaming and struggling as the perpetrator roughly manhandles me into my own
small trunk and locks me in.
I’m lucky I’m so short, otherwise it might be a
whole other story altogether. I hear my driver’s side door open and shut, and
the engine turn on. I’m shaking from fear and having trouble breathing, but
then I remember that I have my phone. Hurriedly, I maneuver my hand into my
back pocket and pull it out. The light illuminates my small trunk, and I swipe
to unlock the screen.
I know in the back of my mind that I should be
calling 911, but when I feel the car stall, I quickly press a button to call
the first number in my call log.
“Hello?” My father answers on the second ring.
“Daddy!” I scream and cry hysterically at the
same time, relief flooding my system.
“Daddy! Help me!” I’m so worked up, I know I’m probably not making a lot
of sense. I just know I need him.
“Pumpkin?” he asks. “Is that you?”
I feel the car begin to move again and I know
every second that passes is crucial.
“Daddy!” I cry, tears streaming down my cheeks. I
know I’m running out of time, but what if this is the last time I will hear his
voice?
“Baby, what’s wrong?” My father asks worriedly
when I continue crying without any explanation.
“Dad, someone has me! Help, please! He’s driving
my car, I’m…” I trail off as I feel the car screech to a halt. Shit. Shit Shit. “Oh my God! He’s
coming. Daddy!” I cry out semi-coherently as I’m scrambling to hide the phone.
I know better than to disconnect, so I shove it under my body as quickly as
possible.
Sure enough, my trunk flies open and a guy wearing
a black ski mask is staring back at me.
“Where is it?” he asks, extending his hand out.
I shake my head, terrified. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”
He pulls a gun out from behind his back and cocks
it. “You wanna rethink that answer?”
I gasp when he points it at me, squeezing my eyes
closed. “Please,” I whisper.
“Alright, you want to do it this way? Fine, we’ll
do it your way. If I get to three and you don’t hand over the phone, then I’m
putting a bullet in that pretty little skull of yours. Understand?”
I know I’m all out of moves. Either I give up the
phone, my one and only shot at survival, or I die now. Excuse me if I’m not
overly ecstatic about either option.
