I should have made two trips
, Gabby chides herself, as she struggles to pull the housekey back out of the front door lock without putting down either of the large tangle of plastic grocery bags she grips in either hand. Once she finally manages to free her key, she guides the door backwards with her heel to shut it and takes a step towards the kitchen table. The heavy wooden door immediately slams into her backside as if some terrible storm has spontaneously erupted outside. She can feel someone behind her forcing their way inside, and the grocery bags slide from her fingertips, completely forgotten.
A large hand clamps over her mouth before she can turn her head back, and she feels herself lifted off the floor until she is standing tippy-toed in her own foyer. She sees that the cute little pink skirt, the one she had dared wear only once before in the year and a half since she had bought it, is riding up high on her pale thighs, as her left arm is roughly pulled behind her and pinned against the small of her back.
"You are not going to make a sound. Do you understand?" The low voice is tinged with some accent she can't place. The man sounds as calm as if he is asking her for the time.
Gabby nods her head furiously.
"That's my good girl. I'm going to turn you around, and you are going to close this door and lock it. Do you understand?"
She hasn't stopped nodding since he began speaking to her. After a brief pause, she feels her body swung around as if she were a small child, any notion of resistance draining from her at the man's shocking display of strength. He holds her completely off the ground, almost perpendicular to the floor, and with her free right hand, she reaches out through the door frame, grabs the doorknob, and pulls the door shut. She turns the manual lock on the knob, then reaches for the deadbolt beside it and twists the latch until she hears the bolt lock into place. She feels herself guided downwards with a surprising gentleness, as if in the arms of an exceptionally skilled dancer, until her feet are back on the ground. The hand covering her mouth is removed, her pinned arm released. Then she feels the weight of his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him.
She glimpses enough to know he wears no mask, and she squeezes her eyes shut, certain that to see this man's face will mean her death.
She can hear him laughing easily as she stands there before him, tears spilling from the corners of her tightly shut eyes.
"Oh my!" he said. "And here I was, thinking you were maybe going to be some kind of bad-ass hero-woman!"
His fingers on her face now, leisurely exploring her cheeks and lips, then softly brushing away the tears from her closed eyes.
"But that's not you, is it? No, no, I don't think so, now. That's good."
He brushes her hair back from her face.
"Because I think maybe a bad-ass hero woman, she might not like all of the things that we are going to be doing here in your house tonight. And she would probably do something stupid, you know?" His voice sounded genuinely sad. "Something that would get her killed."
She can feel him slowly unbuttoning her blouse, cursing herself. She hardly EVER went out without a bra! But she'd been in some sort of weird, crazy mood this morning, feeling sexy for a change, and just a little bit reckless.
"Now, a timid little girl though... she would probably just do exactly what she was told, I'm thinking. And so I bet, that *she* would walk out of all of this, just fine and dandy! Right? So which one is it?"
She can feel his face close to hers. His breath smells of cigarettes, and maybe faintly of mint? She thinks she also detects a hint of cologne. Her blouse hangs open now, down to her navel, but his calloused fingertips remain JUST inside the edge of the fabric, as if awaiting an invitation.
