Abducted for revenge, Bound for love

Abigail drove her car smoothly down the road to her father’s house. Her little metallic blue Peugeot 108 was her pride and joy, a well-deserved gift on her twenty-second birthday, just a few months back. She drove it with care and always made sure to park it where it would be safe. Even today, in her depressed state, she still made sure to avoid every avoidable pothole in the road and have a smooth drive. She could feel her eyes blur with the tears again, but she swallowed them down, the salty taste of tears coating her throat. She was almost at her father’s house. Abigail hoped she would hang on to her emotions just a little longer. The house came up just after the last left turn. She had traveled the road for more than ten years, since her parents had bought the house. She was grateful for this fact, for it made driving easier even in autopilot mode, which she was sure she was in. The house was a beautiful bungalow, with brown stone walls and a high gray roof. Just the sight of it returned some peace to her shattered spirit. She parked the car next to her father’s red BMW. After a few seconds of sniffing and composing herself, she finally left the car, wincing as the shadow of pain went through her abdomen. With a hand pressed against her stomach and her handbag in the other, she walked to the house. She was so burdened with her own thoughts; she did not notice all the windows were closed and not a sound came from the house. The front door was locked, and after a few knocks, nobody opened the door. Not her father, nor their housekeeper, Maggie. That was odd enough to give Abigail a pause in her thoughts. She turned around and stared at her father’s car, now wondering how the car would be parked in the driveway, but her father was not home. Now that she gave it a second look, she realized the car also looked rather dirty. Her tired brain tried to think, but decided it was not so unusual that it should cause her to worry. She walked to the back of the house and retrieved the spare key from the flowerpot and let herself into the empty house. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally stepped into her childhood home. She had needed it to return home where she was safe and felt comfortable. It was almost like she could still feel the warmth of her mother in certain rooms of the house, and that always gave her great comfort. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe her mother was laughing over dinner at the kitchen table, like she used to. With a sigh, she walked further into the house and made her way to her bedroom. The house was strangely dusty. Abigail stopped and looked around more cautiously. She changed course and headed for her father’s office. She gasped and dropped her car keys when she entered the office. The office looked as though a tornado had run through it. The usually neat office desk and bookshelf were in disarray. Papers scattered everywhere, even the chairs were overturned. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t spoken to her father in over a month, but she had no reason to believe he had been in trouble. On shaky legs, she left the office and headed for her father’s bedroom, where she was met with more shock and confusing facts. The room was completely clean except for the wardrobes that were bare to the bone. All her father’s expensive selection of clothes and shoes was missing. A check in the bathroom showed his extensive array of deodorants and hair products was also gone. Her father was the only man she had ever known who took so much great care in his appearance and body odor. She had actually concluded the man was obsessed with his looks, even though he was well into his fifties. Abigail walked back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of her father’s bed. It made no sense. If her father had been robbed, they wouldn’t have taken all his cosmetics and clothes and left everything else, no matter how expensive some of those clothes and products were. A walk through the rest of the house confirmed things were only amiss in her father’s office and bedroom. She did not know much about crime and robbery, but that still did not sit right with her. Kidnapping was another option, but she strongly doubted it. Kidnappers would collect all your clothes, shoes and perfumes, no matter how accommodating they were. And besides, no one had called her demanding a ransom, even though she wouldn’t have been able to pay. They were not poor, but they were also not some wealthy silver-spooned family with money dating back to the times of Kings and Queens. Their little family, which now only consisted of her father and herself, was just a hardworking middle-class family. Her father had been lucky to find a job as a branch manager for a trading firm. He had worked the job for as long as Abigail could remember. Abigail walked in a daze to her own room and pushed the door open. Nothing looked out of place. Even her diamond earrings she had inherited from her mother sat exactly where she had left them by the bedside table when she had visited three months ago. She walked to her bed and sat down slowly, conscious of the pain in her abdomen. She was suddenly overwhelmed and did not feel she was in any state of mind to deal with whatever was going on with her father. It wasn’t what she had expected to be greeted with. She had come home to look for peace and find her equilibrium. Now she felt more disoriented than before. She grabbed her phone from her jean pocket and checked her messages for the last time she had spoken to her father. “Two months!” she hadn’t realized so much time had gone by. A feeling of unease settled over her. She dialed her father’s number but got informed the number was no longer in use. Abigail stared in shock at her phone screen. She redialed, and still the same computerized operator’s voice came on and informed her the number was no longer in use. Was this the point at which she called the police? She mused to herself. Suddenly, being in the house gave her more fear and anxiety. She looked at her time on the phone: 5pm. She would never make it back on campus before midnight. She did not want to spend the night alone in the empty house, not knowing what was going on. But she also did not want to make the seven hours drive back to school in her current state of mind. Thinking of school brought a piercing pain in her chest. It reminded her of the reason she had driven home in the first place. The pain tore through her chest all the way down to her belly and she hunched over in a silent cry. She wasn’t ready to head back to campus; she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready. All she knew was that at that moment, she wasn’t going to head back there. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, she made her choice. A night in the house would not kill her. Then tomorrow she would figure out where to go or what to do. With her decision made, Abigail crawled up further into the bed with her clothes and sneakers still on and closed her eyes, willing exhausted sleep to take cover her body. *** It was past 1AM in the morning when two men silently opened the door to the house. They did not speak or make a single sound as they moved through the dark house. Their black clothes blended them into the shadows. They moved stealthily until they came to the room with the woman sleeping on the bed. One man reached into his pocket and removed a syringe already loaded with a sedative. He looked at the other man and nodded at each other before both moving towards the woman. Abigail startled awake when hands suddenly grabbed her and firmly covered her mouth. Her screams were effectively buried in her throat. The hands were strong and unrelenting no matter how much she struggled. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her thigh. It was too dark to see what was happening, and that only added to her panic. Seconds ticked by and the men did not let her go. Abigail would have begged if her mouth had not been covered. She stared into the dark frantically, trying to think of anything to get away. Her mind began to fog. Her thoughts stopped making sense. All her senses slowed down. Even her body felt heavier. They had drugged her; she realized, even as her brain began to shut down. The two men were as silent as before. Not a single word crossed their lips. When they were sure she was completely out, the man with the syringe pocketed the evidence and lifted the woman over his shoulder. The other man made sure nothing incriminating was left behind. Together, the two men walked out of the house and locked the door behind them.