Page 2 of Serendipity
I would blame my hunger on not hearing the white van that came from the other side of the street. I would also blame me being pissed off, exhausted, and all in all, completely distracted by the neon sign for Danny’s Bistro for not hearing the door opening. It wasn’t until somebody grabbed me from behind that I finally realized what was happening.
Three men wearing black balaclavas and tactical gear, as if they were going to war, came out of nowhere. Two of them were pulling me backward, while one of them kept scanning the street as if someone was going to jump out and start fighting them.
It hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest—they were fucking kidnapping me.
CHAPTER2
That entire speechthat your life flashes in front of your eyes when you are faced with an inevitable end, or when you’re dying, is such a load of bullshit. The only thing passing through my mind when they put a black bag over my head was that I was truly going to kill somebody today and then order a pizza. My stomach kept growling, as if I hadn’t eaten for two days and not a couple of hours.
Okay, I had two things passing through my mind—I also needed to pee.
It didn’t help that the driver, whoever he was, was driving as if he was on the set ofFast and Furious.
My hands were in front of me, tied with something, as were my legs, while I sat on the cold, hard floor of the van. They talked amongst themselves, but I couldn’t understand a single word.
It sounded like Italian, but decrypting foreign languages was the last thing I needed to worry about.
What I needed to worry about was if I was going to live or not. I tried thinking who would want to kidnap me, but apart from that guest last year that threatened to throw a flowerpot at me because I didn’t want to give him a free upgrade, everybody else either liked me or was mildly ambivalent.
One of the kidnappers raised his voice all of a sudden. Before I could even turn my head to follow the direction from where it came, the van came to a sudden stop, and I went free-falling to my side, landing face-first on the floor.
Motherfuck.
“Shit,” one of them yelled, his voice sounding much closer than I would want it to be.
Groaning on the floor and holding my bladder was not what I envisioned for this day when I woke up. Before I could push myself up from the floor, a strong pair of hands grabbed me by my upper arms and lifted me back up into the sitting position.
He didn’t speak, didn’t utter a single word, but I could feel his presence way too close for my liking.
“If you don’t want me to start kicking and screaming, I would suggest you step away from me, buddy.” My mouth felt like sandpaper, my stomach contracted and groaned, and my bladder threatened to burst any moment now. “Not to ruin the whole damsel-in-distress moment and all that shit, but can we please stop at the gas station or something? Unless you want me to pee here in the car?”
A collective groan echoed through the van as soon as the words left my mouth. I didn’t think that men were so prude at the sole mention of normal bodily functions. Before I could ask and probably dig myself into a deeper hole with them, the sliding door they pulled me through earlier opened with a whoosh, letting the fresh air to infiltrate the vehicle.
I had no idea how long we drove, but it must have been long enough to get out of the city. When they pulled me up, took me outside, and removed whatever it was they tied my legs with, I couldn’t hear the familiar sounds of the cars buzzing through Ventus City, nor could I smell the stale, humid air.
“Where are we?” I asked, even though I knew that none of them would answer the question. I started wondering if they even understood English. Judging by that groan earlier, they probably did.
“Shut up and walk,” a voice on my right side said, the two of them holding me between themselves—as if I could run right now. With the state of my bladder, the furthest that I would be able to go would be the nearest bush.
I was close to crossing my knees and walking like that until they let me use the bathroom.
Doors opened and closed, a car arrived, men talked—and now I could understand that it was Italian—but nobody spoke another word to me.
“I really, like really, really, need a bathroom,” I protested again. “Please, Mr. Kidnapper. I swear, I just need to pee. The iced tea I drank earlier is already sliding down, and I’m not sure how long I could—”
“Cazzo,” the same guy from earlier spat out. “We’re getting you to the fucking bathroom.” If I wasn’t sure earlier that they spoke in Italian, his accent just confirmed it.
I shut my mouth then, feeling more than hostile energy in the room—they were nervous. I mean, I would be too if I kidnapped someone in the middle of the day and dragged them into a van. I had no idea why they took me or what they wanted to do with me. I was pretty sure that I wasn’t material for human trafficking. Wait, was there a checklist they had when kidnapping people?
“I have a question.”
“No,” came sharply back at me.
Jeez, fine. I was just trying to be friendly.
Another set of doors opened, and not even a second after that, the black bag they put on my head disappeared, allowing me to finally breathe properly. I blinked, then blinked some more, my eyes adjusting to the glaring light in the room—no, the bathroom.
A marble floor with dark blue walls, and a bathtub that would take up half of my living room stood in front of me. I gawked like a fish on dry land.
