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My entry for the fifth Finish That Thought contest.

Read some great stories from the contest here:

http://alissaleonard.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/finish-that-thought-5.html#comment-form


Her son watched as she was snatched away. Before the black bag came down over her head, she saw the living room curtains shift as though a breeze had whispered through their home. Stay in the house, John, you know that.
The water had just begun to boil when her front door imploded and three black clad men rushed in through the flying debris.
Ropes burned against her flesh, the black bag over her face reeked of sweat. The metal floor of the van against her arm was a stark contrast to her flushed skin.
After only six seconds of driving, gravity compelled her body to lean toward the driver’s side of the van as they turned right onto Lexington. The driver stopped for two stop signs, then drove for twenty seconds more. He slowed to turn right, tires crunching on the gravel of the storage buildings parking lot. This close to her home? Stupid.
The Trinity Guard would never have made such a mistake. From her sources inside the Guard, she knew they’d been surveilling her for six months, though they couldn’t say why. If the Guard had decided to make a move against her, surely they knew better than to send only four men?
She listened as the driver, gripping his jangling keys, slammed the door and his footsteps faded. The passenger slammed his door and she tracked his steps to the back of the van. She heard the steady stream of his piss. She hadn’t heard a peep from the third guy in the front at any time throughout, she suddenly realized. Had one of her inside agents turned on her? Her fourth captor had jumped in the back with her after tossing her in.
She started at the grubby hand gripping her thigh. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, we’re gonna take real good care of you.” The smell of his breath through the rank bag lent the illusion of a coffee and tobacco stained crooked grin. He maneuvered himself between her legs, his hands reaching underneath her to grip her and pull her closer. She used the momentum and pushed her arms against the cold floor to launch her legs up and around his head. With a sharp pull downward while rolling to the side, she brought his head down as hard as she could. The sickening twang of his head meeting with metal brought her no small amount of satisfaction.
Still no sound from the front seat, but that didn’t mean captor number three was not there, waiting. These boys were in hot water, they just didn’t know it yet. They would. She could wait, too.

Published in Random Rambling

Jess

Jessica West (West1Jess) is pursuing a state of self-induced psychosis (reading, writing, editing). She lives in Acadiana with three daughters still young enough to think she’s cool and a husband who knows better but likes her anyway.

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