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Authors: Tina Smith
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city.
On my way back from the toilets in fifth period a
warm hand grabbed around my neck pulled me back
into the shadows of the hall adjacent the bathroom
into a store cupboard. For a second I thought it was
Reid. But the hands continued with force. The arms
were strong, rigid and stiff, like warm marble. The
other hand cupped my mouth and pressed down
hard as I struggled; my gasp was muffled and futile. I
thrashed as his other arm bonded around me and my
scream was stifled.
“Ssshhhh,” a hot breath hissed in my ear. It
burned like steam over my skin. The tactile texture
of plastic scooped over my head. I wriggled feebly
in panic.
“Don’t go with them,” came a low whisper.
Hands covered my eyes, then, forcefully stuffed
something in my mouth and thick tape stripped
from its roll, wound around my hair rapidly and covered my mouth.
“Are you going to go?” it hissed as my blood
pounded beneath my flesh. And drained from my
face.
I shook my head as best I could under the iron
grasp and a moist tear rolled from the corner of my
eye. I was dragged away further, disorientated in the
dark. I thrashed my legs about to little effect, against
the force.
“I don’t believe you.” The harsh whisper burned
my ear. I felt a heavy push then, downwards. My
hands were hurriedly bound with tape and, too suddenly to believe, I was thrown backwards onto the
floor of the store cupboard. And the whoosh of cold
air flowed over me as the door closed quickly with a
thud and a snap as it was locked from the outside. I
lay sprawled and bound, stiff on the floor in shock.
“Ouch,” I gasped as I tried to stand up. I’d hit the
back of my head on the pile of boxes about me. It was
pitch black - no matter how wide I opened my eyes
I could not see - covered in soft plastic and secured
with heavy tape that pinched my hair. I panicked and
struggled with the restraints on my hands. The terror of claustrophobia tensed my body and I writhed,
struggling in fright to be released from the bonds.
I stopped and told myself not to panic, though my
heart was beating furiously. I sat up on the linoleum
floor, twisting about feebly. Enough of my fingers
poked out of the binding tape to touch the cold floor
but were of no use to reach. What had just happened?
I suppressed some tears. Would they come back for
me? Was this part of the clique prank? Or was this
some other terrifying incident? Would I be raped or
tortured? How violent or cruel was this person who
had taken me, exactly? Who was it that had followed
me and dragged me in here? Was it one of the guys
- Reid or Sky? Surely they were the only boys in the
school strong enough to single-handedly drag me in
here - with such swift force? I tried to think if I’d
seen anything: a look before I’d exited class, anyone
missing who could have grabbed me at just the right
spot. Did Cresida have an accomplice? She was the
only one who had expressed the idea of not wanting
me to attend the after-school practice.
I stood up and tried to budge the door with a
kick. Of course it didn’t budge, it was heavy.They had
thought this out well. My cries were muffled moans
that frightened even me.
I struggled and pulled the tape from my hands to
no avail, it was tight. I hit the door and began to kick
it repeatedly but it was solid. Maybe I could dislodge
the lock. I beat it again and again as my heartbeat
thumped.
I didn’t give up at first. As my legs tired I lay kicking the door with one foot, repeatedly, and my mind
began to wander. As it slowed my subconscious began to entertain me.
My mind kept flashing images of Sky. Did he
look like a bad guy? What did bad guys look like?
Could that be why Cresida played a part in this
to get back in with him? It was cruel and though I
didn’t know Sam, she was the leader, and I sensed the
most heartless of the group whether it was due to her
upbringing or her money, or both. But how cruel was
she and how
On my way back from the toilets in fifth period a
warm hand grabbed around my neck pulled me back
into the shadows of the hall adjacent the bathroom
into a store cupboard. For a second I thought it was
Reid. But the hands continued with force. The arms
were strong, rigid and stiff, like warm marble. The
other hand cupped my mouth and pressed down
hard as I struggled; my gasp was muffled and futile. I
thrashed as his other arm bonded around me and my
scream was stifled.
“Ssshhhh,” a hot breath hissed in my ear. It
burned like steam over my skin. The tactile texture
of plastic scooped over my head. I wriggled feebly
in panic.
“Don’t go with them,” came a low whisper.
Hands covered my eyes, then, forcefully stuffed
something in my mouth and thick tape stripped
from its roll, wound around my hair rapidly and covered my mouth.
“Are you going to go?” it hissed as my blood
pounded beneath my flesh. And drained from my
face.
I shook my head as best I could under the iron
grasp and a moist tear rolled from the corner of my
eye. I was dragged away further, disorientated in the
dark. I thrashed my legs about to little effect, against
the force.
“I don’t believe you.” The harsh whisper burned
my ear. I felt a heavy push then, downwards. My
hands were hurriedly bound with tape and, too suddenly to believe, I was thrown backwards onto the
floor of the store cupboard. And the whoosh of cold
air flowed over me as the door closed quickly with a
thud and a snap as it was locked from the outside. I
lay sprawled and bound, stiff on the floor in shock.
“Ouch,” I gasped as I tried to stand up. I’d hit the
back of my head on the pile of boxes about me. It was
pitch black - no matter how wide I opened my eyes
I could not see - covered in soft plastic and secured
with heavy tape that pinched my hair. I panicked and
struggled with the restraints on my hands. The terror of claustrophobia tensed my body and I writhed,
struggling in fright to be released from the bonds.
I stopped and told myself not to panic, though my
heart was beating furiously. I sat up on the linoleum
floor, twisting about feebly. Enough of my fingers
poked out of the binding tape to touch the cold floor
but were of no use to reach. What had just happened?
I suppressed some tears. Would they come back for
me? Was this part of the clique prank? Or was this
some other terrifying incident? Would I be raped or
tortured? How violent or cruel was this person who
had taken me, exactly? Who was it that had followed
me and dragged me in here? Was it one of the guys
- Reid or Sky? Surely they were the only boys in the
school strong enough to single-handedly drag me in
here - with such swift force? I tried to think if I’d
seen anything: a look before I’d exited class, anyone
missing who could have grabbed me at just the right
spot. Did Cresida have an accomplice? She was the
only one who had expressed the idea of not wanting
me to attend the after-school practice.
I stood up and tried to budge the door with a
kick. Of course it didn’t budge, it was heavy.They had
thought this out well. My cries were muffled moans
that frightened even me.
I struggled and pulled the tape from my hands to
no avail, it was tight. I hit the door and began to kick
it repeatedly but it was solid. Maybe I could dislodge
the lock. I beat it again and again as my heartbeat
thumped.
I didn’t give up at first. As my legs tired I lay kicking the door with one foot, repeatedly, and my mind
began to wander. As it slowed my subconscious began to entertain me.
My mind kept flashing images of Sky. Did he
look like a bad guy? What did bad guys look like?
Could that be why Cresida played a part in this
to get back in with him? It was cruel and though I
didn’t know Sam, she was the leader, and I sensed the
most heartless of the group whether it was due to her
upbringing or her money, or both. But how cruel was
she and how
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