All characters in this story are 18 and over.
Snatched
I hummed along to the tune of my iPod, my knee hurt from an intense volleyball practice. The sun was out for the first time in almost 2 weeks and I smiled as I felt rays on my face. I had to occasionally shift the weight of my backpack; I had way too many textbooks. As I neared the end of the sidewalk an old rusty blue truck suddenly pulled in front of me, mere inches away from hitting me. I felt my heart skip a few beats as I froze, than anger consumed me. I turned and made my way around the truck and confront the driver; who did this jerk think he was pulling a stunt like that?
“What’s the idea asshole?!? “ I yelled. Suddenly the back canopy with the double doors flew open before I could even make it to the other side of the blue pick-up truck and a large pair of hands shot out, encircling me and pulling me inside with a force so strong both my feet flew right out from under me. My immediate reaction was to scream, but the strangers hand closed over my mouth as he held me against him. Only when I felt the cold blade against my throat did I stop struggling, I relaxed as inhaled deeply through my nose catching the strong scent of sweat and oil.
“Good girl. Now I am going to restrain you and if you don’t resist me, you won’t get hurt any more than what is necessary.” He promised as the driver hopped out and secured the two back doors before getting back into the cab. The few windows were tinted and it was hard to see much. The man flipped me onto my back and straddled my waist, holding the blade just against my skin. He put most of his weight on his knees, but enough on me that there was no way I could wiggle free. I used the limited light to focus on his face; he had ear length brown hair that was just in his face that it ticked the ridge of his eyebrows. He wore short sleeve Black and white plaid button up shirt, his forearms bulged with proof of some kind of laborious activity. He had broad shoulders and black jeans. To complete his outfit he had on a pair of black cowboy boots.
“Put your wrists together,” he ordered using his size as a form of intimidation.
“What do you want from me?” I asked softly. The truck bed was biting into my back; my bag was in the far corner, all my papers and books spread out from him tossing it. He had to be almost three times my size, and my mind was going into a slow panic.
“Darlin’, I just told you what I want! Now I suggest you listen.” I noticed a slight accent, sounded southern but I wasn’t sure. Slowly I brought my wrists in front of me, limbs shaking as I tried to remember to breath and think.
“Now I’m gonna set this knife down so that I can tie ya up, don’t reach for it or I’ll be forced to hurt you; and trust me sweetheart, you don’t want that. Do you understand?” he questioned. Even his voice demanded obedience. I nodded. The strange man set the blade down and far out of my reach; not that I was any state of mind to attempt to grab it and escape. He grabbed a piece of rope that had been wound through his belt loops and began winding it around my wrists in a complicated pattern. He did a few knots than picked the knife back up. It was no ordinary pocket knife; it was a large jagged blade, like something you’d take hunting….maybe that’s what he was doing. I shivered at the thought of being any sort of prey to this strange man.
“I am going to get up now, don’t you dare try to run!”
“I am not stupid” I replied shortly. He grabbed my chin hard enough to bruise, forcing my cheeks against my teeth so hard I thought it might draw blood.
“You will watch the way you speak to me. “ I nodded slowly in understanding. He released me and moved to sit beside me. He hit the top a few times and the truck hit reverse quickly it jostled us causing me to almost roll right into him. I scooted as far away as I could get in the limited space.
“My name is Clyde, the driver there, is my older brother Georgie.”
“What do you want? My parents can’t offer much in the way of ransom.” Clyde chuckled as he twirled the knife playfully; few rays of light catching the metal just right, making him look all the more frightening.
“I’m not interested in a ransom sweetheart.”
“I…I don’t understand,” I confessed.
“Oh I think you do. See I’m finally old enough to marry, and I’ve chosen you to be my wife.”
“What? You can’t. I’m too young,” I argued. At the time the reasoning seemed to be enough in my mind to convince him to drop this whole charade.
“If you’re old enough to bleed; you’re old enough to breed. You bleed dontcha?” he asked. My face flamed with embarrassment.
“I don’t even know you. You can’t just kidnap someone and demand that they marry you!”
“Now Skye, that’s enough talking like that.”
“My name is NOT Skye, it is Lindsay,” I replied through gritted teeth.
“I said ENOUGH!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the side of the truck. I jumped at his sudden outburst and almost wet myself right then and there. He took a deep breath and his behavior mellowed almost as quickly as it escalated.
“As your husband to be, it is my responsibility to give you a new name.”
“I don’t want to marry you,” I replied, keeping my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t want him to be angry.
“I’m patient man Skye; you will learn to love me.” I was almost speechless. Was this seriously happening? This was crap you saw on Lifetime, not stuff that happened in real life. Why me? Of all people why me? I wasn’t ugly, but compared to most I was considered almost plain, I had wide hips; my body was still amidst the awkward stages of puberty. My hair was long, straight and a dull brown. My eyes were a soft almost baby blue like the sky on a sunny day. Tears burned beneath my eyes as reality came crashing down. This man was going to take me far away and keep me prisoner with some sick perverted delusion that I was his wife. My stomach rolled and I was pretty sure I was going to passout.
“Don’t be upset, I will be a good husband, I’ve learned how to properly please a wife.” I shuddered and hugged myself the best I could with rope around my wrists. I had a boyfriend, I had a life, I had plans that involved college, and a purple house with pink picket fence. Not becoming the wife of some delusional weirdo.
“Where are you taking me?” I managed to ask.
“Home eventually; we’ve traveled a long way to find you. I prayed all week for the Lord to find me a good wife, signs pointed me here Skye.”
“What’s so special about me?” I asked. Clyde scooted closer and stroked the side of my face, his callused finger wiping a stray tear away. With him closer I could see his eyes more clearly, they were an intense electric blue, with slight gold near the pupils; I felt almost lost staring into his eyes.
“You caught my eye and I knew that was a sign from the Lord, I felt it in here that you were destined to be mine.” He motioned to his heart and I had to force myself to hold back the sobs that were so desperately trying to break free.
“You can’t own me, I’m a person, I have rights,” I replied dramatically.
“I have warned you once already Skye; I will not continue to warn you. Mind me or I’ll have to punish you,” he growled. I bit my lip and looked away. I was tempted to throw myself out the back but I wasn’t sure I could make it before Clyde grabbed me and then I worried what he would do if he did catch me.
“I know it will take time to adjust Skye, but you’ll fit right in, I just know it.” I didn’t want to anger him so I didn’t bother returning any conversation. Clyde went on and began talking about the Farm and all the animals, I stopped listening, I focused on sound of traffic and the few street signs I could see out the back window. But with darkness falling even small amount I could see was fading. When the truck began to slow down my heart raced further. I felt every speed bump as we pulled into a parking lot of a motel. When Georgie turned off the truck and walked around the back, I pressed myself further into the back of the truck.
“Did you check her for a phone or weapons?” Georgie asked, poking his head into the back. I glanced at an older meaner version of Clyde, except his hair was black, cropped short so that it required little to no care to look good. Georgie had a 5 o’clock shadow and seemed to be glaring at me with his dull blue eyes that were so pale they looked grey.
“I…no I didn’t,” Clyde admitted. Georgie sighed.
