Chapter 5
Willow
She couldn’t sleep. None of her tricks were working.
Willow stared at the ceiling, making out various shapes in the patterns of the texture.
A frog. A puppy. Blob.
She sighed. Maybe some fresh air would help. Her mind was buzzing with the new zombie FPS game she’d bought called Final Dawn. She’d been looking forward to it for months and took the week off so she could binge.
But then it was hard to sleep. Ugh. The necessity of having to regulate yourself as an adult was a pain sometimes.
Willow pulled herself out of bed and stretched. Still dressed in her black pajama pants and a T-shirt, she pulled on her favorite purple jacket. There was no point in changing all of her clothes. It was going to be a short walk around the block.
She tugged on a hat and made her way outside into the chilly spring air. Fall was her favorite season, but spring wasn’t bad. There was a lot of rain and pretty flowers in the park.
Willow took her time, meandering down the empty street.
This was the best time to go walking. No one around to bother her or get in the way.
The only thing that could make it better was some picturesque scenery.
But the park was too far and walking through it in the dark would be less than ideal.
Still, pavement and car exhaust weren’t as refreshing as dense forest air on a trail.
The walk made her eyeballs ache from exhaustion. She would need to remember to grab her notebook to sit next to her bed. These late walks usually gave her wild dreams. It was easiest to remember them if she wrote it all down immediately.
She turned the corner, the promise of bed awaiting her. This was the right idea. She just needed some fresh air. Now she could crash.
Wait. When did that van get there? It definitely wasn’t there when she left, was it?
It was a dark color, maybe blue, with no back windows. Probably nothing. Only a random person stopping by to see someone. No one in her complex owned a van like that.
She kept a wide distance from it. Goosebumps prickled across her skin the closer she got.
Willow was almost even with the front door. Soon, she’d be able to see if anyone was in the driver’s seat.
A shuffle of footsteps came from behind. Then, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her body. She tried to kick and bite, but it had no effect. Whoever was holding her was too strong and probably a foot taller.
“Relax,” he murmured.
She kept struggling. There was no way she would go down without a fight. She flung her foot forward and slammed back into his shin.
“Fuck!” he growled.
The man shifted his grip and she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her arm.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Did he just drug her?
Her protests grew erratic, clawing and kicking and squirming.
His voice blurred into the sound of her blood rushing in her ears.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her muscles went lax and the streetlights smudged together in a weirdly beautiful kaleidoscope of colors.
***
Jostling. Darkness. Her face was sticky and hot.
There was something covering her head. And her hands were bound behind her back.
She shifted, still drowsy from whatever that asshole had injected her with. Her shoulder ached deep into the tissue of her rotator cuff. Why couldn’t he tie her hands in front?
Willow wiggled and bumped into something as her head spun. Fuck. She didn’t want to puke into the bag on her head.
The low vibration underneath told her she was in a vehicle. On the floor.
“W—” she slurred.
The thing she bumped into moved. It was a person.
“Stay still,” the man said.
“W-who are y-ou?” She managed to get out.
Nothing. Why would he answer? There must’ve been more than one, since it didn’t feel like she was near the driver’s seat.
Who would want to kidnap her? Was this random? Maybe she’d finally scammed the wrong person. Sometimes the creepy guys would get extremely irate and threaten to find her, but she always used a VPN and kept her location a secret.
A sound crackled in the gaps of the cloth on her head. It was muffled, but she strained to hear what it was. Maybe a radio?
“Storm systems moving int—”
She couldn’t tell if it was her drowsiness or the shitty connection that prevented her from hearing the full message.
A couple of mumbles. Maybe it was the drug.
That pissed her off even more. Fucking assholes.
Willow moved her legs to test her level of mobility. They had only bound her wrists.
A hand held her in place along with a larger presence. Was he on the floor with her? It was hard to figure out what was where.
“Chill,” said the masculine voice. Why was it familiar—or was it?
She couldn’t be sure of anything, but the vehicle came to a halt, sending her rolling into the captor yet again. Willow squirmed to avoid his grip, wriggling and kicking as much as was possible.
His rough hands found her anyway and hauled her upright. Her head spun as the sound of the vehicle door—the van—opening sent her into a panic. This was it; she was done. She had pissed off the wrong person.
Her legs were weak as they pulled her outside into the cold. Her feet met damp ground and she could smell the faint scent of the woods through the bag. They must have taken her out of the city.
“What the fuck is happening?” she muttered.
No answer. Instead, they continued to lead her somewhere, her feet crunching against twigs and leaves.
Finally, they halted and a hand urged her down to the ground.
She twisted away. “Fuck you.”
A sound of incredulity came from the left as the hand all but threw her to the ground.
Willow steadied herself on her knees, trying to find the resolve to accept what was to come. A strong burst of wind whipped through the trees and made her shiver.
Maybe they could be reasoned with. “I’ll give your money back,” she said. Her impending death was quickly chasing away the drowsiness from the drug.
One of them mumbled something.
“For real,” she continued. “Just take me back home so I can get my laptop. I’ll give it all back.”
Footsteps approached and the bag was yanked off her head. It was so bright, after spending however long in the darkness. She blinked repeatedly, trying to focus her eyes as she looked up at her captors.
They were wearing balaclavas and one had a heavy black pistol in his hand. Bile climbed up her throat. Maybe it would have been better not to see the weapon.
The one who had pulled off the bag bent down and grabbed her chin. He turned her head, hard hazel eyes finding the long scar. Then, he looked her over more intently.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Willow…” It was a bit strange for them not to know that—unless they hadn’t meant to grab her.
He released her face and she snapped her teeth at his gloved hand. Something flashed in his gaze as he stalked off to join the other man standing menacingly with the pistol.
Whatever their plan was, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.