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Kidnapped

Mila

When I opened my eyes, the concrete floor was at eye-level, cold against my cheek. Even though I’d been on it for a while.

A long while, judging by how my body hurt when I rolled over onto my back. My neck hurt when I tried to turn my head from side to side, and it felt like my whole body was going to seize up if I moved too fast.

I lifted my hand to my cheek. The cut had stopped bleeding not long after it had been made but the skin was tender and on fire. Inflamed, I was sure. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I had to stay calm. It was the only way I was going to get through this.

How long had it been since I’d been taken? I had no way of knowing. There were no windows in the basement I had been put in, only a naked light bulb that was always on. Without the change from day to night and back again and with my phone taken away from me, I’d lost track of time completely. I didn’t even know if I’d slept for ten minutes or ten hours.

It was on the lo
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