I can't remember much about how I got here, I do remember the hand which grabbed me from behind. I didn't even have time to think about screaming, it was just so quick. The hand around my waist, and the one covering my mouth with some sort of cloth, seemed to belong to someone really big. I did struggle and fight as best I could, but whoever the man was, he was much stronger than me. I could feel his heavy breathing in my ear, and his grunts seemed to have such determination in them, reaching behind me and kicking at him just seemed a pathetic gesture.
He held me tight and walked a few paces back, and then twisted round. My feet didn't even touch the pavement. I was thrown onto a mattress in the back of a van. It all happened so quick, to quick to hope anyone had noticed. The guy shouted, "Go, go, go," and the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness, was the van door sliding forcibly into place, the screech of wheels on the tarmac, and a big black hand covering my mouth.
How long I was out for I don't know. I came round in a small room with no windows and just one solitary door. I was tied with my hands behind me, and my legs together, tied above my knees, and bound again lower down at my ankles. My throbbing head was still I suppose, hurting because of the foul smelling drug on the cloth. I flicked my head to get my hair out of my eyes, and wished I hadn't, a sharp pain stabbed through me. I pushed myself up and shuffled back against the headboard. Even that was a struggle and caused me to pant heavily.
My thought process hadn't really kicked in, by that I mean I was still dazed and very confused. All I knew was I had been kidnapped, and as I took a deep breath, I knew for those in my position, it was always a possibility.
Slowly I began to focus on my surroundings. There was no pillow on the stained mattress, and no covers. The room was dank, and faded green painted walls were bare in places down to the bricks, and this gave me an even bigger chill.
The ceiling was a dirty white, almost yellow, with plaster hanging down, and home to countless cobwebs. Looking to the foot of the bed was the door. It looked like it had been painted brown in the distant past. It had an old fashioned black door knob that looked liked it was askew to how it should have been. Next to it was a key hole, and that's when I started to feel tears in my eyes. My head slowly tipped back until it rested on the wall, and I stared at the bare light bulb until it hurt my eyes.
There wasn't a single sound, no traffic, no every day sounds which you think are annoying and try and blot out, and no way of knowing if it was night or day. I looked at the small table next to the bed, and the wooden chair, which looked just as old as the table, but it looked sturdy. I guess it was made some time ago, when the craftsmen took pride in their work, and didn't churn out the assembly line furniture they do now.
My bag was on the table, it was on its side. Some of the contents had spilled onto the floor. I don't suppose for one second my phone would be there. I leaned over to my left. And on the bare wooden floor I saw my lipstick, my mints, my bottle of sleeping pills, and my purse. The purse was open and all the credit cards, and my driving licence had gone, the purse was just an empty shell, a thought which chilled me again.
20 minutes later I heard foot steps on stairs, so I assumed I was upstairs. I cowered back against the headboard. My breathing which I tried to keep under control, now decided it wouldn't do that, panting and fear took over any actions or thoughts of remaining calm.
As the key went into the other side of the lock I was aware of how much I was trembling. I watched the door handle twist, in a sort of oval movement due to it being off centre, that's when I closed my eyes and prayed.
The door creaked open and light shone through from the other side, from a much more powerful light than in the room I was being held prisoner in. I saw the light being obstructed by a figure, and I pressed myself against the metal rails of the headboard, until I could feel each individual bar against my back.
Three figures moved in the room and surrounded the bed. My eyes shot from one to the other as they just stared down at me. I slowly curled my legs back, until they were tucked to my side. "How are you feeling, Mrs Summers?"
I gasped and my eyes shot to the one who spoke. I wanted to be brave and speak, but my trembling mouth wouldn't let any words out, so I just nodded, which was a little frantic, and full of fear in itself. All three men wore green overalls which looked brand new. They all wore shoes of the same sort, and they all wore full ski masks, with just holes for eyes and their mouths. The biggest one who had spoken and I guess he was the one who dragged me into the van, spoke again.
"Sylvia, isn't it?"
Again I nodded, still a little frantic, but not as much. I cringed back again as he sat on the bed. His big black hand reached out, and I cowered turning my head away from him, as if it would make him disappear. I shuddered slightly as he gently moved my hair from my face.
"Don't hurt me," came from my mouth, in a whimpering panicking tone.
"Shush, all you have to do is be a good girl, and cause us no problems. You do understand that, don't you?"
How could I tell him I would be good, enough to make him understand. I just nodded, and gulped, as he moved my hair off my face again.
"Good, now tomorrow, your husband is going to unlock the safe for us. He doesn't know it yet, in fact I doubt if he'll know you are missing until later. You haven't had a text from him, but you've had one from Jill, who is she?"
"She's, my, my friend."
"Okay, I sent her back a message, saying you are looking forward to the party she mentioned in the text. So, if hubby does as he's told, there is no reason to miss the party."
I nodded, only this time I was a little calmer. The party was in four days, and I was looking for anything to grab a lifeline out of this horrifying situation. My eyes flicked to the other two men, I think just to gain some reassurance that what the big black man was saying was true. They just looked down on me.
"Now, it's nearly 3 o'clock," the black guy nodded to the middle sized white man, "he'll be staying with you while we go and tell your husband what is going to happen, and when we get the money, tomorrow we'll tell him where he can find you."
He tipped his head as my expression changed.
"What is it Sylvia, why the worried look?"
"It's Saturday today, the bank isn't open tomorrow."
He laughed, and then so did the other two.
"No, what I mean is, the safe is...on a timer, it, it won't open until next week."
The three men shot looks at each other, and the silence between them seemed to be building to some sort of confrontation. The black man looked back at me. His hard brown eyes stared into mine through the ski mask.
"Are you telling me the fucking safe won't open until Monday?"
His words were calm, but the threatening tone of being let down was simmering underneath. My shaking had returned, how could they not have planned for this? And how would they take my next statement?
"It, it, it's a bank holiday, the timer won't release until, until..."
"Tuesday?" he growled.
I shook my head, "No...Wednesday."
