Page 5 of Game of Revenge

As I was recovering from the hit, I felt Juan grab my arm as he began to drag me away. Once out of the room, I let myself be guided. It was clear there was nothing I could do at the moment, and it wasn’t worth getting hurt further for a futile attempt.

Juan took me through a very dark corridor. Finally, he opened a door, removed the handcuffs, pushed me into a room, and closed the door behind me. I stayed right behind the door, desperately looking for a light switch to identify what new hell I was in.

I finally felt myself breathe when I flipped a light switch, and a very dim light came on. I was in a small room with a single window, much too small to escape from. There was a twin bed by the wall as well as a bedside table.

I was overcome with fatigue and fear, living the worst of nightmares, but at least there was a bed and no crawling insects––a slight upgrade from the first room. Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I sat on a corner of the bed. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I realized this unimaginable situation was becoming my horrifying reality.

I tried to stay calm, though. I couldn’t let these assholes win.

About two days passed with me locked in the room. One of the men brought me food twice a day. I managed to sip a little bit of water, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

If this was for money, I would hopefully be out of this place sooner rather than later. All I could do to keep my sanity was force myself to think of happy thoughts, to go back to memories that made me happy, and ignore the sense of doom that was threatening to engulf me.

To ground myself, I focused on memories of my wonderful college days, far from my stepfather. I focused on the wonderful trips I had taken with my friends, back when my life was filled with hope and excitement for what was to come.

Perhaps my mistake had been going back to California, back to my stepfather, who clearly was the reason I was taken in the first place. There was no other explanation. I couldn’t fathom what he could have possibly done and what role I was to play in it.

It was, of course, always possible that my situation was just bad luck. People knew my family had money, and perhaps that was all it took for someone to decide they had the right to take my freedom, and my life, away from me.

Chapter 3

Four days. That was the amount of time that passed, and I was left alone in a dim room with a bathroom break only once a day, when one of the men came to get me to take me across the hall.

The first couple days, I screamed, cried, knocked on the door, but they didn’t care. All I heard was laughter and mumbled conversations.

Restlessness began to creep in after I realized the begging and pleading were doing me no good, so I chose to focus all my energy on breathing slowly, on my mental state.

If I let fear consume me, I was done for. And I couldn’t be. I had a life waiting for me out there, goals, ambitions, so much I wanted to accomplish. I had to believe my life wouldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. I needed to escape. I needed to find a way.

I was losing track of time when one of my captors walked into the room. He was bringing me one of the plates of the day. He moved further into the room––as usual, avoiding any eye contact and always with a mask on––and he placed my plate on the floor, turning to quickly leave like he always did, as if being in the room with me for more than a few seconds would cost him something.

Before he was out the door, I gathered the strength to get up and go to him, grabbing his hand in mine, hoping human contact would help me plead my case.

“Please help me. I can pay you double whatever it is they are giving you. You seem like a nice person. Please, I need your help,” I tried.

He did not answer. He just stared at me with those bored, dark eyes.

For a moment, I thought he might actually help me. Instead, he removed his hands from mine, hastily moved to the door, and proceeded to close it behind him.

I held the doorknob but let the door close. I had been observing that door for days now, at times playing with the knob, toying with a backup plan, thinking of ways to escape should I fail to appeal to his humanity, and I had. He would think that it was locked, but I knew better.

The door would not lock as he thought, because the doorknob did not close by itself as it normally would. I figured out that if I could hold the doorknob at the right time and with the right pressure, I could stop it from locking while someone who was not paying close attention would assume that it was. And this time, it worked.

I had learned to do this when I snuck out of Richard’s house in my rebel days. You could hold a doorknob, close a door, and then slowly release it so that no one could hear it. I held my breath for a second to see if he would notice the different sound, but when nothing happened, I knew I was in the clear.

I was afraid to open the door, as I had no idea who was outside or what could be waiting for me. I stood there, frozen with fear, for what felt like hours but in reality was probably only minutes, as I waited for the voices I could hear to dissipate.

I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Maybe I could try another time, now that I knew how to do it. I could always wait for another day to try to escape.

No, I would not let fear paralyze me. This could be my one and only chance to escape from this place, and not taking a chance at freedom could turn out to be a life-or-death decision. The man might pay closer attention next time. He might realize the door did not lock well. I might be too slow or too fast and lose my chance for real.

I didn’t consider myself a very brave woman, but I also didn’t usually let fear control my life.

I was choosing to fake the courage I didn’t feel for a chance at getting my life back, for a chance at survival.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the doorknob to the right and slowly opened the door. Hesitantly, I moved my head forward to see if there was anyone around. I saw a small, dimly lit corridor, but there was no one in sight.

I wasn’t sure which way to go, but I noticed there was some natural light coming from my right. I closed the door without making a noise. Looking behind me almost every second, I started walking toward the light. The floor was cold under my bare feet, just like the room I was being held in. There was still no one in sight, and since the floor was made of cement, they couldn’t really hear my footsteps.