There were voices. Some were deep, others scruffy. At first I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but then someone talked and all others quieted.
“When she wakes up, give her a hard time. If she causes trouble, put her to sleep.” I slightly opened my eyes, expecting to see the voice next to me. But instead I heard it from the driver's seat. I looked around as quietly as possible. Guns. There were guns all around, and there were people holding the guns. Some were really tall, others really muscular, and most of them looked old. And yet some looked like they were my age. They were all talking and no one noticed that I was awake. I really just wanted to go home. As we ran over a bump, I accidentally squealed, and everyone looked at me. One of the really tall and muscular guys got up and walked over to my makeshift bed. He took out his knife and started cleaning the blade with his shirt.
“Who are you and what are you going to do to me?” I said while gazing at his shining weapon.
Great. That was so cliche. This is like every action movie I've ever watched.
“And before you answer that, don’t say ‘I’m your worst nightmare’ because I swear I will laugh right in you face” I said, smirking.
“I’m going to get some answers from you.” the big bad guy with a knife said.
“What is your real name?” he said.
“Ellen Marquis Robinson.”
“No. Your REAL name.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I didn’t want to do this.” he glanced at me then he nodded at his men, “but I’m gonna get answers out of you soon.” They started pinning me down. My wrists, ankles, and even the top of my head. He took his knife, and started leaning towards my thigh.
“I swear if you cut me with that STD infested knife that you wiped on your less than clean shirt, then I will kill you.”
Smiling, he effortlessly glided it onto my skin and I screamed in pain. They put their dirty hands on my mouth and he kept cutting until he got to my knee. The cut wasn’t deep enough to bleed out, however it wasn’t a papercut.
Then he asked again, “What is your full, real name?”
“I don't know what you're talking about!”
“This is about to get very painful for you if you don’t start talking! So let me ask for the fourth time; what is your name?”
“Let me tell you for the fourth time. My name is Ellen Marquis Robinson! There seems to be a disconnect between us. I mean, as far as I know, I’m just an average girl who got kidnapped. Is there some sort of meaning behind it or are you going to sell me off as a sex slave or something?”
He looked confused for almost a second. Then he moved up to my hand and cut a huge line straight across. It hurt as bad as sticking your hand in fire, and then poking it with a safety pin.
“What is your name? This is the last time that I will ask you. And don’t make any excuses.”
At that moment I started crying. I had a lot to cry about. My mom’s death, my brother's burial, and now this.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ellen Marquis Robinson is my name!”
He took the knife and was about to cut my cheek when the man driving yelled. He was so loud that I jumped a little. The blade was so close to my face that I got a smaller cut that isn’t as deep as the others.
Someone else got up and moved toward me and Joey. He was going to slap Joey, but was too slow and ended up slapping me. He slapped so hard that I got an instant bruise. All of a sudden I started seeing dots. Then people kept telling me to stay awake, but I just had to close my eyes. I was so tired somehow. I tried and tried to force my eyes open. My ears started to ring, and my eyelids decided to close.
ns 18.68.41.146da2
