Chapter 6
Jenny
The zip tie bit into my wrists as I worked them slowly back and forth, the plastic warming from the friction. My captors finally left after taking that awful photo, but their laughter still echoed in my ears, making my stomach twist. They’d made me cry for the camera, and the worst part was - I hadn’t been pretending. The tears were real, hot and shameful as they rolled down my cheeks. I felt so weak, so small. Not at all like the brave fighter Bella always said I could be.
Now, alone in the dimness, I tried to focus on counting their footsteps like Drake taught me. It was supposed to be a game - something we practiced for tracking the mean girls at school, so I’d know which hallway to avoid. But this wasn’t a game anymore, and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding long enough for me to concentrate properly. Every shadow made me flinch, every distant sound sent my pulse racing. I kept thinking about those crime shows Mom never let me watch but Tommy described anyway, the ones where people never came home.
No. Focus. Count. Think.
Four men, rotating shifts. I had to keep track, had to remember everything. British-not-British guy was in charge - I could tell by how the others looked at him before doing anything, like how kids at school always checked with Melissa Thompson before picking teams. Phone Guy barely watched me, always texting someone instead, his thumbs moving faster than Ms. Peterson’s when she got mad at someone for passing notes in class. The one I’d bitten walked funny now, and thinking about that made me feel both proud and terrified of what he might do if he caught me trying anything else. I could still taste the copper of his blood in my mouth, still hear his cursing.
And then there was the quiet one… he was different. He watched. Noticed things. Like how the others missed stuff - important stuff. His eyes reminded me of Sensei’s sometimes, seeing everything but giving nothing away. He’d noticed when I’d stopped eating their food, his head tilting just slightly as he collected my still-full plate. But he hadn’t said anything to the others. I couldn’t figure out if that was good or bad.
My stomach cramped painfully; a constant reminder of hunger that made it hard to think straight sometimes. The sweet smell from the vent was strongest when they brought meals, making my head fuzzy in a way that scared me more than being hungry. After the second time I’d woken up confused, unable to remember chunks of time, I’d started hiding the food instead of eating it. Bella told me once about being drugged - about waking up with the missing memory of being hurt. The way her voice shook when she talked about it… Even thinking about it made my throat tight with fear.
A door slammed somewhere in the building, the sound echoing through old pipes and making me jump so hard I scraped my wrists against the zip tie. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to concentrate like Sensei taught us. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Feel the earth beneath you. Center yourself.
Three sets of footsteps heading… east, maybe? It was hard to tell in here, where everything echoed weird off the concrete walls. My mind raced through what we’d learned in science class about using the sun to tell direction - Mrs. Hampton would be so proud I was actually using it - but everything felt muddled. Was I even remembering it right? One stayed behind, probably in the security room I’d glimpsed when they brought me in. The quiet one’s shift now - he always worked alone.
My fingers found the rough edge I’d been working on the zip tie, carefully hidden under the rope they’d added for the photo. The rope was scratchy against my skin, but I focused on that sensation instead of the fear. Brody always said overconfidence was a fighter’s biggest weakness. I repeated this in my head like the prayers Mom made us say before bed, trying to believe I was smart enough, strong enough, to use their overconfidence against them.
The zip tie was almost through—at least I thought it was. My shoulders ached from being bound, burning like that time I’d tried to do too many pull-ups to impress Tommy. But I kept doing the exercises they practiced in class whenever they weren’t watching. Leg lifts under the blanket, tensing and releasing muscles like Sensei taught us. My body had to be ready, even though I wasn’t sure what for.
The image of my brothers lying on that bloody sidewalk flashed through my mind, making my stomach clench all over again. But they were alive - I’d heard British-not-British guy complaining about hospital security, his accent slipping when he got mad. The thought of Tommy and Jake in the hospital made me want to cry again, but I swallowed hard against the tears. I had to be brave, like them. Like that time Jake broke his arm but didn’t cry until after the doctor set it.
The camera’s red light blinked steadily in the corner, watching me like that creepy doll in Sarah’s room that always seemed to follow you with its eyes. I’d figured out its blind spots on the first day, or I hoped I had. The bed’s position was perfect; they could see me lying there, but not what my hands were doing behind my back. Unless I was wrong about that too. Being wrong about something like that… I didn’t let myself finish the thought.
My stomach growled loudly in the quiet room, the sound seeming to bounce off the walls. I started humming to cover it - that stupid pop song Sarah kept playing at sleepovers, the one about never getting back together or whatever. The tune caught in my throat as I thought of my friend. Sarah would be so scared if this happened to her. She cried when we watched horror movies at sleepovers, even the fake-looking ones. Fear gripped me again; I’d never been so scared, but my hours at the gym taught me something else as well—how to be both scared and brave at once.
Drake’s lessons about patterns started as a way to avoid bullies at school. Brody taught me leverage because Melissa Thompson was twice my size and liked to push smaller kids into lockers. Sensei’s breathing exercises were supposed to help me stay calm during tests. The intention may have been different, but maybe it would save me now. They wouldn’t expect a kid to know these things. Right?
Please let me be right.
The zip tie creaked slightly as another fiber snapped. I kept humming, fighting back tears as I wondered if they’d shown that photo to my parents. Mom would be trying so hard to be strong, but her voice would do that wobbly thing it did when she was really worried, like when Jake fell off his skateboard and needed stitches. Dad would be pacing, probably driving the police crazy like he did that time Tommy stayed out past curfew. And my brothers… I squeezed my eyes shut, missing them so much it felt like something was ripping inside my chest.
When I opened them again, the room seemed darker, though I knew it was just my imagination playing tricks. The concrete walls felt closer, and the air felt thinner, like being stuck in the closet during hide and seek, only a million times worse. I made myself focus on the paperclip hidden in my sock, worked into a point against the floor during shift changes. Not much of a weapon, but it was something. Something real I could hold onto when the fear got too big.
The quiet one’s footsteps approached - I tensed, then made myself go limp, faking sleep like I’d learned to do when Mom checked on me past bedtime. Through barely-open eyes, I watched him check the locks and peer through the window. His movements were different from the others - smoother, more careful. He reminded me of the way Sensei moved sometimes, like he was always aware of everything around him. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he’d hear it, but he just moved on, efficient as always.
But this time, he paused. Just for a second, his head tilting that way it did when he noticed things. I kept my breathing slow and steady, like I was really asleep, even though my heart was trying to jump out of my chest. He stood there for what felt like forever, then moved away without a word. Had he noticed something? Did I mess up? The questions spun in my head like the time I rode the Tilt-A-Whirl too many times at the fair.
I counted his steps until they faded - twenty-three to the security room, I thought. Four hours until the next shift change. The zip tie was almost through, unless I was wrong about that too. Everything felt less certain in the growing darkness, like when you think there’s one more stair but there isn’t, and your stomach does that weird dropping thing.
Bella told me once that sometimes just surviving was winning. I clung to that thought as my eyes burned with fresh tears. I wanted to be brave, to be strong like her, but I was so tired. So hungry. So scared. I wanted my mom so bad it hurt, wanted to crawl into her lap like I used to when I was little, wanted to hear her say everything would be okay even if it wasn’t true.
The zip tie creaked again - another fiber giving way. Or maybe it was just shifting. I kept working at it anyway, humming that stupid song while tears slid silently down my cheeks. They’d made me cry for that photo, trying to break my spirit. I hadn’t been pretending then, and I wasn’t pretending now.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe being scared didn’t mean I wasn’t strong. Bella got scared sometimes too - I’d seen her hands shake after certain noises, seen how the guys got all protective around her. But she was still the strongest person I knew.
I stayed angry because it kept the worst of the fear away, but in the quiet darkness, doubt crept in like shadows under a door. I’d played spy games with my brothers, but this was real. People got hurt in real life - I’d seen it happen to my brothers, to Bella. What if I got something wrong? What if I couldn’t figure out how to get past the locks, or find my way out of the building? What if help didn’t come in time?
The quiet one’s footsteps passed again - twenty-three steps back. Like clockwork. He was the only one who kept to a real schedule, the only one who seemed to really think things through. That made him more dangerous than the others, maybe. Or maybe… maybe it made him different in a way I could use. I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything anymore, except that I had to try.
The anger spilled over into silent tears that wet my pillow. I could plan and count steps and work at zip ties all day, but when night came, I was still just an eleven-year-old girl who wanted her mom. Who missed her dad’s hugs and her brothers’ teasing. Who was trying so hard to be brave while being more terrified than I’d ever been in my life.
But I kept working at the zip tie anyway, kept counting steps, kept track of patterns. Because that’s what Bella would do. What Drake would expect. What Brody and Sensei had trained me for, even if they didn’t know it at the time.
Please let me be strong enough. Please let me be smart enough. Please let me get home.
The quiet one’s footsteps faded again. Twenty-three steps. Like always. I closed my eyes and counted with him, feeling the zip tie weaken just a little more with each number. Tomorrow, maybe. Or the next day. I just had to stay alive, stay alert, stay ready.
Stay brave, even when I was scared enough to shake apart
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