Kidnapped!
Yet another from my unpublished collection ...
Never.
“I can’t believe I’ve just walked
all the way to the supermarket just to find none of the things Mother had asked
me to get her,” I muttered. It was at night, and Mother had asked me at the
last minute to purchase some groceries. Lady Luck was certainly not on my side
that fateful day, since none of the groceries she asked for were sold! As glum
as an oyster, I trudged back home. To save some time, I decided on taking a
shortcut through the neighbourhood park back home.
It was a decision I would soon
regret.
Without warning, a gloved hand
covered my mouth. I struggled in vain, but whoever my attacker was seemed to
have a grip as strong as iron. Left with no other choice, I bit my attacker’s
hand in a bid to fight him off. He let go. Kicking him in the stomach in a
fluid motion, I then took to my heels like a gold medal Olympian. Never did I
stop to glance back. Almost back home …
A baton hit my head. Pain coursed
through it like an angry serpent. Unable to bear the pain, I fell onto the
ground with a thunderous thud. Stars began to form in my almond shaped chestnut
brown eyes. Not now! I tried to get up but to no avail. The last thing I
remembered before being swept to oblivion were the words, “Keep that filthy
swine from me. She’s going to pay the price.”
Regaining consciousness, I found
myself in a warehouse.
Opening my droopy eyelids, the first
thing I did was to scream. My screams were futile, for they were muffled by a
handkerchief which covered my mouth. Trying to escape was also useless, for my
hands and legs were tied up. Deciding on the escape was impossible. I scanned
the warehouse. It was actually abandoned and dilapidated, with windows no
smaller than the tabloid newspapers. Jagged pieces of moonlight from holes on
the ceiling dotted the cracked floor like pieces of broken glass. After looking
around, only one, unanswered question remained: Would I get out of here alive?
Oh, why didn’t I heed Mother’s advice to not use shortcuts? Tears began to
snake down my cheeks like a faulty faucet. I began to cry.
“Shut up, you swine!”
Blinking back my tears, I noticed a
middle-aged man. He wore a balaclava, his eyes visible through a slit, as
ferocious as a lion’s, skull-shaped tattoo covering his entire body. He marched
like a stormstooper towards me. The kidnapper proceeded to take off my
handkerchief. Hatred flooding my soul, I headbutted him.
The reaction was instant. He roared
his outrage and took out a M1911 pistol. The kidnapper said in a sinister tone,
“You know, I was going to forgive you for that little assault on me just now.
Perhaps my plans should be changed.” He pointed the pistol at my head. My heart
palpitated wildly. Fear enveloped me, robbing me of all oxygen. Death was
staring at me in my face. Just then, the kidnapper stood upright. Blood spurted
out from his head.
“No … no,” the kidnapper muttered.
Within seconds, the kidnapper landed
on the ground with a thunderous thud. The pistol clattered out of his reach, a
few metres away. At that juncture, I saw an advancing stocky figure carrying a
gun. Rubbing my eyes, I could not believe what was before me.
The police.
Moments later, I was freed. “You may
leave this place now. We have contacted your mother to take you home.” Without
hesitation, I nodded in an enthusiastic agreement and immediately dashed off.
Seeing Mother waiting for me at the police car, fear emitted in her obsidian black
eyes, I ran towards her and surprised her with a big bear hug. Tears of joy
welled up in both our eyes. As I hugged Mother tightly, I instantly thought of
something: Never should I take Mother’s advice for granted ever again.
Never would I take shortcuts ever
again.
Never would I do such a risky thing
again.
Never.
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