I strain against the zip-ties, and feel my wrists start to bleed. The blood runs over the translucent plastic, making it just slippery enough to provide some relief from the chafing plastic. My nose is still filled with the smell of the sack that covers my head, but the sweet scent is gone, replaced by the coppery smell of my blood. In the almost blackness my eyes strain for some sign of what time it is, but find none. The van shifts from right to left and the engine revs, showing me that we're still moving. I've only been up for about 10 minutes, but we haven't stopped yet.

I wonder if someone's looking for me, Marley, my teachers, the librarian...anyone.

The thought trails off into nothing. No one is looking for me. I'm too introverted. I keep to myself so much that it'll be a wonder if anyone even notices I'm gone. Besides, if they do they'll just assume that I'm at home, or the library. I'm sure they won't think that I've been kidnapped.

I swallow a sob. Yeah. No one would ever believe quiet old Kyla would ever get kidnapped.

The car stops abruptly, my already bruised wrists taking the brunt of it. I hear a door open and close before the back slides open. The bag is ripped off of my head and I blink at the rays of sunlight that flood my vision. "Well. You're awake. I wasn't expecting that. I must have forgotten to douse the bag in chloroform again last night. I'm rubbish at kidnapping." He shakes his head at himself disapprovingly. "No matter thinking of that now. It's time to eat."

A glimmer of hope flickers on in my chest, when I see he isn't carrying any food.. Maybe I'll be able to escape when we get some.

My spirit's crushed when he pulls out the gun, sun glinting off the black metal. How can something so bright represent something so dark?

"We need to get food, and we can't do that if you are tied up like a prisoner. However, you need to remember that you are a prisoner. I'll have the gun in my possession the whole time, and I'll be observing you. If you make a move to get the waiter's attention, I'll shoot you. If you try to escape, I'll shoot you. If you do anything at all without asking for permission beforehand, I'll shoot you. I have no qualms about killing a teenage girl, so don't delude yourself by believing that I won't pull the trigger. I will. Do you understand?"

I nod sadly.

He cuts the zipties off of my hands, tutting when he sees the bloody red marks from my struggle. "Struggling won't help you escape darling. It'll only make your stay with me a bit more painful. We'll have to get you a nice long sleeved sweater to cover those up."

Next is the duct tape. I wince as he peels the strip off of my face, the exposed skin raw. He grimaces. "That isn't good." He appears to think about it for a second before digging in a bag at his feet that I didn't notice before.

He comes up with a small tube of lotion, which he hands to me. "Use that on your face. It'll soothe the burn." I take it, wondering how he knew that it burned.

I almost sigh in happiness when I apply the cream. It makes the pain melt away instantly. I can only hope that it makes it look better too. I can't imagine the aftermath of duct tape is pretty.

He cuts the zip tie off of my feet and hands me a bundle of clothes. "Get dressed," he orders. "I'll close the back, but you need to change. Those clothes will attract too much attention, and besides, it's been a while. You need some fresh clothes. Change, then knock on the door when you're finished."

I look down at the clothes I'm wearing. My shirt has blood from my wrists on it, and my leggings are covered in grey dust. Maybe he's right.

The door shuts and I change into the outfit he gave me. It's a long sleeve sweater and another pair of leggings. I knock on the door and it opens. The man looks me up and down. "Much better. You look presentable enough to pass as my daughter now." He moves one hand closer to me, and I realize that he's trying to help me down from the back of the van. I gratefully take it. He might be a kidnapper, but there's no way that I could get down from this van without falling on my face.

My feet land on the cement, sending a shudder through my body. He wipes his hands together. "Well that gets you ready. Now we just need to come up with a story. We can't just go in there as kidnapper and victim now can we?"

He laughs at his own horrible joke. "Let's see. I suppose I can be your father. I wouldn't dare let you call me Dad or Father, or any other one of those horrible terms. I suppose you should use my real name."

My ears perk up. He's going to tell me his real name? Super dumb of him, but good for me. If, no, when I escape I might be able to use it against him.

He continues, unaware of my mental scheming. "So you shall call me Damien, and I will call you Kyla. Let's practice. What's my name, Kyla dear?"

"Damien." I do my best not to sound like I'm cursing him. Turns out I shouldn't have bothered because it comes out sounding like I'm a chain smoker.

Damien looks horrified. "Your voice sounds absolutely horrendous. That must be what happens when you don't speak for three days. I'll get you a tea with honey when we get inside. Tea solves all the world's ailments. In the meantime I'll speak. Don't want anybody getting suspicious of your voice now do we?"

"Can I at least order my own food?" I squeeze out. God my voice is trashed.

Damien thinks about it. "I'd rather you not, but if you must I could just say you've lost your voice." He looks me up and down. "Yes, I'll say you've lost your voice cheerleading."

I cross my arms over my chest. Why is it that every person I meet thinks I'm a cheerleader. Not all blondes live just to wave pom poms in the air and shake their hips at the audience. Why not say I'm extremely dumb as well? After all, I am blonde, so I couldn't be smart now, could I. Stereotypes are ridiculous.

Damien raises an eyebrow at me, and I realize that my arms are still crossed. I quickly drop them, cursing my stupidity. Way to offend the kidnapper, Kyla. Maybe you'll be rewarded. Extra chloroform tonight!

"Let's go," he says gruffly. Well, as gruffly as his accent can get. It's hard for such a pretty voice to be gruff.

I follow his lead down the sidewalk until we reach a small diner that looks like it's older than my grandparents. I grin as I read the faded red and cream sign. Joanne's Diner.

I love diners. I've gone to probably one in my whole life, and that's the failed attempt to introduce a diner in Fallmont. Tourists loved it, the few that ever came to our tiny town. It closed after a month, though, because the locals were outraged about the attempt to overthrow the farmer's market. Besides. The food sucked.

The food here looks really good though, I think, glancing around the diner at people's plates. I see a plate of french toast that makes my mouth water. I guess I know what I'm getting. We seat ourselves at a table, following the orders of the sign, and look at the menus. I already know what I want, so I let my eyes wander around the diner.

Damien crosses his legs under the table, accidentally kicking me. I look over at him and he smiles coldly. "Sorry Kyla dear."

Maybe it wasn't an accident. I plant my eyes on the menu in front of me, not daring to look around again. A waitress walks up and pulls a pen out of her stained apron.

"Hello! I'm Lou-Anne, and I'll be your waitress today!" She smiles constantly while she talks, her red lips stretched out wide. My cheeks hurt just looking at her. "What would you like to drink?"

The question is directed at me, but Damien quickly answers. "She'll have a chamomile tea with honey for her sore throat, and I'll have a coffee. Black as you can get it."

She scribbles the order on her notepad, nearly dropping the pen. "And what would you like to eat?" She tries to point the pen at us, but this time she drops it. "Whoops! Sorry there dearies." I pick it up from off the table and hand it to her.

"I'd like french toast," I rasp quickly. Damien might want me to be quiet, but it'll seem weird if I don't talk. And besides, there's no way I'm letting him order for me..

She frowns. "Ooh, you really do have one kicker of a sore throat there." Her attention refocuses on Damien. "And for you sir?"

"I'll have the Eggs Benedict."

"Great! I'll get those out right away for you guys! Hope you feel better hon." Her hips sway as she walks back to the kitchen, knocking a tray off of somebody's table.

I smother a laugh. Guess I know where the stains on her apron came from.

Damien chuckles too. We sit in silence until our food comes, and then we silently eat. It's probably the most awkward meal I've ever been forced to endure.

"So..Damien," I say, trying to break the silence. He glances up from his egg, the yolk dripping from his fork. "What exactly do you do?"

Now he puts the fork down, glaring at me. "I teach," he says sharply. So sharply that it attracts looks from the people around us. Damien notices them, and his whole demeanor changes. "I'm a physical education teacher at a very prestigious school." His voice is much kinder now, and a smile plays on his lips. The few people who turned around return their attention to their own tables. Damien's scarily good at changing people's perception of him.

I decide to carry on the conversation while he's in this kind state. "That's cool. Not my favorite class, but being a teacher is a hard job. Not everyone could do it."

Damien's cool demeanor fades for a moment, and I think I see remorse in his eyes. Or is it just amusement? "It might be challenging for some, but it isn't to me." He regards me. "What would you like to do when you get older?"

I blush. When I started talking, I didn't expect to talk about myself. For a moment I forget that I've been kidnapped, and just pretend that I'm having lunch with one of my dad's friends. "I'd like to be a librarian when I get older. Not the kind of librarian that wants everything to be perfect and shushes people all the time. More like the one you could ask for help on your homework, or the one with a sweet for you. I want to be the kind of person that people enjoy being around, and the books are just a bonus really."

Now I know I'm not imagining it. There is definitely a flicker of remorse in his eyes. Whether or not it's because of kidnapping me, I don't know, but it's definitely there.

Damien goes back to his eggs, and I let my eyes wander around the room again. Something tells me he won't kick me again.

No one really sticks out in the crowd of hungry people, until I notice a few men in suits sitting at a booth in the corner. Their formal attire seems out of place among all the jeans and t-shirts in the grungy diner. I lock eyes with one of them and look away, embarrassed.

I peek at them again out of the corner of my eyes, and see that they are whispering to each other, hands gesturing for emphasis. I don't know what it is but something about them just seems off.

Lou-Anne comes back with the check, and when she drops off the receipt she leaves her phone number too. Damien looks disgusted, and I can't say that I blame him. 70 year old women don't seem like they'd be his type. We walk out the door, and I drag my feet to prolong the time before I'm tied up again.

We make it to the van and Damien motions for me to sit in the back. "You know, I don't think that I'll have any problems with you. You did rather well in the restaurant." He seems to be thinking, his thick brows furrowed together in concentration. "I think you've earned the right to sit up in the front seat with me. Not taped up, but I'll still ziptie your feet. Does that sound amenable?"

Amenable? That sounds amazing. I nod, and he helps me up from where I sit. I get into the passenger's seat and let him zip tie my feet. He closes the door and gets in. Then, we're driving some more. Of course.

As we pass by the diner's parking lot, I notice a man in a suit like the one's from inside. He looks familiar. Almost like... my father, but I know that's impossible. I crane my neck to get a closer look, but the van drives by a bush, blocking my view. The next moment, he's gone.

***

After about an hour's drive, I have to break the silence. Damien's too silent. I can't hear him breathe, his hands make no sound on the wheel, and there's no radio in the car. I'm going nuts.

"So. Why'd you kidnap me?"

Damien never looks away from the road. "I was ordered to retrieve you. By my superior."

Okay...that's not creepy at all. "Who's that?"

"No one you need to concern yourself with at the moment."

"But what if I wanted to concern myself?"

"Then I couldn't tell you."

The rest of our conversation goes a lot like this. I prod for information, Damien holds fast like a brick wall. There isn't a single chip in his answers. He doesn't give me any useful information at all. He won't tell me where we are going, what we'll do when we get there, or what his superiors want to do with me. I get literally no information.

Maybe if I stay awake a little longer, I'll be able to wear him down. It's not likely though. My eyelids are already heavy; drooping as if I'm balancing quarters on them. I take a long slow blink. The cars outside are really relaxing, creating a background of whooshes. My eyes shut, and I drift off to sleep.