Captured Miracle

By: Alannah Carbonneau

Chapter 1

My heart slammed painfully in my chest as fear surged through my bloodstream. It was so potent I tasted the bitter swell of bile. A large calloused hand covered my mouth, cutting off the piercing scream bubbling in my throat. My eyes popped open and I struggled to adapt to the suffocating darkness surrounding me. My blinds had been pulled closed - not the way I left them when I’d climbed into bed - and there was only a sliver of silver moonlight slicing the darkness.

Tears burned my eyes and I blinked rapidly, clawing at the hand held firmly over my mouth. I tossed my head from side to side, trying to tear myself from his punishing grip, but I failed. Instead, I parted my lips, tasting the nauseating salt of his skin as I clamped my teeth down on his calloused flesh.

The man flinched, “Shit!” He hissed in a deep breath, pushing his hand harder against my face, forcing the back of my head into the mattress. He leaned down over me, his breath warm and revolting against my face. “Do it again and I’ll make sure you pay.”

I whimpered as another man claimed the space on the opposite side of my bed. My eyes, now adjusted to the dark, counted three figures. All men. All dressed in black.

What were they doing in my room? What did they want from me? What were they going to do to me? And what about the rest of my family? My mother and two little sisters, would they be safe? What would happen to them?

The man standing close to the door moved quickly to the end of my bed as I started flailing viciously against my human restraints, my legs tangling in a mess of sheets. The three men moved in surprising coordination. The man whose hand held my scream from finding release grabbed my chin with his other hand, while the man standing on the opposite end of my bed caught my flailing wrists in an iron grip. It didn’t take long for the man who’d been standing beside my door to pull the sheets from the bed, exposing my bared legs. Hot hands moist with sweat locked on my ankles, stilling my movements.

A painful sob rocked through my chest, but no sound found its way into the silence. Through my misted gaze, I stared at the men as they breathed in evenly. They knew what they were doing, and I was terrified of what I didn’t know. I’d never once thought twice about wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of panties to bed. And, I never once thought I’d be grateful for my wiry chicken legs. The way the pale moonlight touched the insipid skin of my legs didn’t make me feel all that alluring. I could only pray that these men weren’t here to rape me. I would prefer death.

My bedroom door cracked open and another man popped his head into the room. “Hurry, it’s time.”

A cry ripped through my heart as I realized there were more than just the three men in my bedroom. The man holding my mouth bent low, his breath sickeningly warm and moist against my skin. My lips trembled open as I struggled not to cry aloud, and his finger slipped into my mouth. Again, I tasted the salt of his skin mixed with my own saliva and I gagged.

He shifted his hand over my mouth. “If you wake them, we’ll be forced to kill them.”

His words turned my blood cold and my body was quick to relinquish my fight.

The man spoke again, “You’re going to be a good girl and come with us now, yes?”

My heart shattered into a billion little shards, as I nodded, finding the ability to reply silently through my debilitating fear. He didn’t move his hand from my mouth, but this time, when they moved to peel me from my bed, I didn’t struggle. I couldn’t, not when my struggling meant the death of my family.

Tears rolled down my face, dripping onto the man’s hand before rolling over his skin. He tensed, but didn’t say anything to comfort me. I hadn’t expected him to. These men were anything but noble. They were criminals. And they were dangerous. Never before had I once thought it was a possibility that I might be abducted from the safety of my bedroom, of my home. I’d heard about these things happening, but they weren’t the kind of things that happened to me.

But that’s what every unfortunate soul thinks when they are being carted from the safety of their home. This shouldn’t be happening to me. I don’t deserve this.

The man who’d held my ankles opened my bedroom door, his eyes filled with grave warning as I passed him by. I knew what he was telling me. Don’t speak. Don’t cry out or scream or fight. Because if I do, they’ll have to kill my family. I heard his silent warning loud and clear.