Kidnapped

Dortmund-Borsigplatz

There was a loud crack of thunder followed immediately by lightning meaning the storm was almost overhead. The first enormous drops of rain started to fall on the dry pavement. It was a wonderful smell, but I was going to get soaked if I didn’t move quickly. I hurried along Oesterholtzstrasse and was almost home when a light green Mercedes pulled up on the side of the road next to me. Damn, the German Police been must have been watching me. I was going to be in trouble now for interfering. The passenger side window opened and someone shouted my name. The rain was falling pretty heavily so I couldn’t get a good look at the person behind the voice, but I knew it wasn’t Herr Becker or Herr Schmidt so I hesitated for a moment.

“Sheila, come here. We need to talk to you. We can give you a ride home while we talk”

What choice did I have? If I didn’t talk to them now, I would have to explain myself later. I knew I was in trouble.

I just didn’t know how much.

I walked hesitantly towards the car and despite the rain a man stepped out and opened the back door for me. He was dressed black pants and a black leather jacket. I didn’t recognize him and he looked a little too stylish to be a Police Officer. He ushered me towards the open door. I peered into the car hoping to see a familiar face before getting in. When I recognized no-one I took a step backwards, but before I could turn and run, I was pushed roughly through the open door and onto the back seat, banging my head on the way. A pair of firm hands grabbed my wrists as the door was slammed shut and the car sped away. I tried to scream, but a hand was clamped firmly over my mouth.

“If you want to live stop screaming.”

I recognized that the heavy accent of the man who was driving the car. I felt sick as I realized he was speaking Russian and not German. I grabbed the door handle and managed to open the door, but only a crack. I screamed as loud as I could.

“Help, somebody please help me”

The man sitting next to me grabbed my arm roughly and yanked me closer to him, putting his hand over my mouth again.

The driver spoke again “Sheila, did you not hear what I said? If you want to live, sit still. I would love to hurt you. I would very much like to squeeze your neck and watch your eyes bulge as you die, but I promised my mother I would bring you home. I think she wants to meet you. I think she may have a job for you.”

Dead of July will be released later this year 

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