Page 18 of A Princess, Stolen
I imagined doors swinging open without the engine being turned off as footsteps approached. Really heavy steps, like those of murderers I only knew from the press and my Netflix series.
Are they going to kill me now?
“Please…don’t shoot,” I stammered in some direction. Not a second later, I was grabbed under my arms from each side and dragged forward in total darkness.
Waves of fear flooded me like the many dark colors from the images in my nightmares. I barely felt the heavy hand placed on my head that pushed me down like criminals on TV being taken away in a patrol car.
“Get in!” The man’s voice had an accent that I couldn’t place, but it wasn’t Isaac.
I wordlessly obeyed, searching for something to hold on to, for something inside the car that could help orient me when someone grabbed my arm and helped me.
At that moment, I no longer felt as ready to sacrifice myself as I had before, especially not when the other man slid next to me and pushed me further along the seat. Doors slammed, the car drove off, and I was suddenly wedged between two wet, hot bodies that seemed gigantic, almost monstrous to me. Strange hands fumbled with the coat.
Inwardly, I cringed and remembered Isaac’s words.Have you ever watched anyone die, Willa Nevaeh Rae?If I had the same choice now as before at the edge of the forest by the ruins, I would run.
“I got it!” a second male voice suddenly growled next to me. It sounded at least as frightening as the man with the accent. When I felt movement next to me, I instinctively flinched, but nothing happened.
Instead, another man from the front seat said, “Hey… Everything’s cool… Yes, we have her… Yes, everything was in the bag… Of course… We’ll be in touch.” He sounded noticeably young and casual. Then it dawned on me that they had been searching for the phone to inform their contact.Isaac isn’t here!But that initial relief evaporated abruptly. It meant nothing. Nothing meant anything. He could show up at any time. They could kill me at any moment. Even without him.
The car rumbled like a wheelbarrow over bumpy ground, shaking me from right to left so that I kept bumping intoone of the two men. I closed my eyes behind the cloth. Sweat permeated the air, men’s sweat, cheap tobacco, and the smell of onions. I felt their gazes. I would have sworn on my life that they were staring at me. And I felt something from them. Nervousness, but also excitement and triumph. Panicking, I choked back the gag reflex in my throat and tried to think about Dad’s smile, my flowers, and my paintings, but it didn’t help. My mind was painting pictures of its own. Maybe they would rape me. One after the other. Together. Maybe I would die today. The worst thing was the silence. No one was speaking. I drew wild patterns on the raincoat with my fingers: semicircles, dots, squares, the wordsDad,and thenMom. Help!
I barely noticed that the car had stopped. The man with the accent ordered me to take off my shoes so I could move faster. Blindly, I fumbled with the straps of the Manolo Blahniks, took them off, and clutched them like a lifeline, but they took them from me. Someone dragged me out of the vehicle. Still, no one said a word and I didn’t dare say anything. My eyes watered under the blindfold. A damp wind blew against my face, smelling of salt and ocean. We were one hundred percent on a beach on Staten Island.
Again, I was grabbed under the armpits from each side and dragged along. I heard the ocean roaring. It was so close. It sounded like a ravenous animal foaming at the mouth. My nightmare flashed through my senses.
Maybe they would submerge me in the Atlantic with iron weights. Maybe I would drown like Mom. It was this last thought that stirred the courage of desperation within me. I fought wildly against their grip, screamed, and dug my feet into the sandy ground, but they didn’t let go, only heaved me higher, uttering, “You, be quiet! The wind swallows everything anyway!” The backs of my feet dragging over prickly grass, over gravel, and sand. I screamed anyway until I felt the water on my bare feet.Cold, icy Atlantic water. In no time at all, the hem of my dress was soaked with water and clung to my calves.
My mind retreated at that moment into the deepest recesses of my mind. I fell silent and made no sound as reality frayed like the brittle strands of a cord. I perceived everything separately as if none of it belonged together anymore. The men’s voices calling to each other, the sound of the sea, the whistling wind. I barely noticed that I was being thrown onto a hard surface. My fear blurred everything, seesawing, as a deafening crack filled the air and soaked it with gasoline.
Frightened, I curled up. What if they took me out to sea and threw me into the Atlantic Ocean many miles from the coast? I wouldn’t make it back even if it wasn’t too far, even if I could take the dress off in the water, even with all the swimming lessons I had over the last thirteen years. I’d be too panicked.
Help me, Dad! Oh God, help me!
The boat started moving. Hard impacts shook me and the foamy spray splashed me, soaking my hair.
I reached for my mom’s ring, felt the ruby heart and the rough spot between two stones. I thought of her warm smile. About the Palace of Shards. About Delilah and Penelope, who were probably even now searching for me. Had Dad noticed that I was gone? What would he do? What if they actually just threw me overboard, maybe even bound my hands and feet?
I didn’t know how long I had been cowering there, shivering from the cold, and conjuring horrific scenarios when they jerked me to my feet and ripped the raincoat off my body. My teeth chattered. Everything swayed again, but the boat didn’t seem to be moving—the engine was off. Someone wrapped my hands around rough ropes. “You, up there!” barked the one with the accent.
“What?” I stammered. In my mind, he was still a murderer type—with a bald head and a hook for a right hand. “You, climb up! Ladder. Made of yarn.”
“Rope ladder?” I asked cautiously.
He growled something hotly against my neck that I didn’t understand. Maybe “All right already.” I don’t know, but apparently, they weren’t planning on lowering me into the Atlantic like a mafia victim.
I tried to concentrate as I felt for a rung with my foot. I found it, but it gave under my bare sole, still, I managed to find my footing and climb a few rungs with the dress, which became tangled several times. Further up, I heard a few men talking, and the next time I blindly searched for a rung, several hands grabbed my upper arms.
With a loud “Now!” they pulled me up and I landed roughly on my knees.
“Welcome aboard, princess!” Laughter and voices surged around me. They seemed to come from every direction. I stayed on the ground for a few seconds, not knowing how to react while I was still processing the shock: I was definitely on a ship, somewhere in the Atlantic, on the ocean where Mom had drowned.
I clenched my icy fingers into fists so I wouldn’t drift off again. I needed my senses. Next to me, there was a thud and cursing. “Damn it, Castor, can’t you hold the ladder?” Someone grumbled something dark and then there was a loud bang followed by another. The men who had been with me were probably boarding. I didn’t count how many there were. They were in the majority anyway and I wasn’t Lara Croft or Wonder Woman.
Was Isaac here?
Thinking about him almost drove me crazy. I was narcotized by fear, but I was still aware of my surroundings. Creaking wood,the groaning of steel like in a steel factory, a whisper of deep voices, then silence, and finally, “Okay, let’s take her to the boss.”
I was grabbed again. They showed no regard, not for my fear or blindfold.
