3. Carly
Carly
Six Weeks Earlier
My friend, Jess, and I fall to the ground.
‘That was ridiculous,’ she says.
I’m too out of breath to answer but grunt in agreement.
‘We won’t be able to walk tomorrow.’
She’s probably right. But Coach Jeff is an expert and knows how long our bodies need to recover before game day. I imagine our next session, the final one before the game, will be light and focussed on strategy.
‘How are you getting home?’ I ask her when I finally catch my breath.
‘Mum’s over there.’ She points to a car parked across the street. ‘Want a lift? She won’t care.’
I shake my head. ‘All good. The walk’s only five minutes.’ I rub at my burning quads. ‘Plus, might be a good cool down.’
Jess jumps up. ‘See you Thursday,’ she says, before grabbing her training bag and heading to her car.
I swing my own bag over my shoulder and head towards home.
I flick through TikTok videos on my phone as I walk.
A habit I know my dad would be furious about.
‘ Distraction is the leading cause of accidents,’ he reminded me one afternoon when he drove past me while I was walking and scrolling.
I explained to him that I wasn’t driving, that I’m not being distracted while controlling machinery.
But then he came at me with statistics about distracted pedestrians and accidents, and he was smug when I had nothing to say back.
The thought makes me slide my phone into the side pocket of my soccer bag. You win, Dad.
A car heads toward me, a few blocks from my house.
As it gets closer, it slows down. I pick up my pace so I can pass it quickly.
It’s creepy. Probably some old weirdo perving on a kid in sports gear.
As it nears, I can see it’s a black SUV with dark windows and bright headlights, unnecessary for this hour.
The car stops as I’m about to pass. My body goes cold and my heart races. It’s fine. It’s fine. They’re probably just lost. My brain tries to convince my body but my heart rate continues to climb.
The passenger side door of the car opens and a woman steps out. She’s wearing a black jacket and big sunglasses.
‘Excuse me, love. Do you know where this is?’ She holds up a phone, pointing to a map. Directions. Just as I thought. But I don’t dare step closer. I squint my eyes, pretend to look and shake my head. ‘Sorry, no.’
The woman takes a big stride toward me. ‘Are you sure?’
It all happens fast after that. She grabs my arm and spins me so she can wrap her arms around my body.
Over the thundering sound of my heartbeat and between my pathetic attempts at a scream, I hear another door open.
Then my bag is pulled from my shoulder, there’s a sting in the side of my neck and everything goes black.
***
My head pounds as I attempt to open my eyes. Whatever I’m lying on is cold and hard, making the pain in my head worse. I blink away tears and try to take in where I am. I remember walking home. I remember the black car. I remember the woman. But nothing after that.
I lift my head, wincing at the pain and use my arms to push myself upright.
What I see is the stuff of nightmares. I’m in a tiny rectangular cell, much smaller than my bedroom at home.
Three walls are made of concrete and the fourth is a row of steel bars.
There’s a mattress on the floor in one back corner and a bucket in the other.
I use the bars next to me to pull myself up.
The room spins and I hold on tight to keep my feet.
Outside my cell is a large open space with one table in the middle.
Surrounding the space are cells like mine.
The dim lighting makes it difficult to see and judging by the single tiny window in the building, it’s dark outside.
But I’m sure I’m not wrong when several pairs of eyes look at me from the other cells.
Where the hell have I been taken?
Panic starts to take over. I scream and pull at the bars. They don’t move at all. Over and over I scream, tears running down my cheeks. What is happening to me?
‘Hey,’ a voice comes from my left.
I can’t see who the voice belongs to.
‘Listen,’ they continue. ‘No one will hear you. You should sleep.’
I have so many questions. I don’t know where to start. Where are we? Why won’t I be heard? Who are you? Why did they take me?
I’m overwhelmed and sob without forming any coherent sentences. “P-p-please,” I beg.
‘Just sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Using the bars and then the wall for support, I shuffle over to the mattress. There’s no pillow and the sheet is covered in stains. The only bedding is a small blanket I’m certain at first touch will scratch and irritate my skin.
I lie out flat, unsure how I’m ever going to sleep. My head is still pounding, but a wave of exhaustion takes over. I close my eyes.