Creative Writing: Kidnapping

5 • Kidnapping

I follow Laura down the road, being extremely cautious of my surroundings. Her long strides tell me that she is still extremely angry, as does her pulled back shoulders. I bite my lip as I think about the conversation with the officer. He didn't seem the least bit concerned about this whole thing, which angers me.

He's probably thinking the same thing I was before about this whole thing just being a cruel prank. Laura is the only one who doesn't seem to think so.

"Laura, wait up!" I call for around the fifth time. Only this time she stops and impatiently waits for me, tapping her foot against the cracked pavement.

I run up to where she's standing, my chest heaving for breath. She doesn't say anything, barely even acknowledges

Grabbing my set of keys to the house from my pocket, I unlock the door and step inside.

The house is dark, which tells me that Mom hasn't returned from work yet. She'll probably be at work until at least five, and its four-thirty now. Flicking on the light, I throw my keys on the table and grab a quick snack from the cupboard. While I munch on the granola bar, I think about the day's events. Never in a million years did I think I would ever go to the cops to report something as foreign as this. In my opinion, this doesn’t even seem that serious yet. I’ve seen someone around for two weeks and have gotten one text and one phone call. What can I say though; Laura likes to overreact a lot.

A few moments later, I throw the wrapper in the trash bin and head upstairs to my room. After throwing my bag on my bed, I head to my desk and sit down on the comfortable seat, looking down at the story I had scribbled down the night before. I shake my head as I read through

Now I just want everything to go away, to not have someone taunting me. Right now, I'm just waiting for him to call or text me, telling me what he’s going to do since I went to the police after he told me not to.

I bite my lip, tempted to just throw the story in the trash and start with something that's less dark and more lighthearted, like little fluffy bunnies wandering a forest or something.

Who am I kidding? My brain's not hardwired for that kind of thing. It never really was.

Just as I’m about to pull out my homework for the day, my phone, which had been in my pocket for most of the day, vibrates. My heart lurches as I take it out from my pocket. Only, as I check the caller ID, my shoulders slump and I sigh in relief. It’s not him, thankfully. On the fourth ring, I answer the call and put the phone up to my ear.

"Hey Laura, I was just thinking of calling you."

The same heavy breathing as the time the man called me fills the line. The grin quickly drops off of my face and is replaced with absolute terror. I take the phone away from my ear to double check the caller ID, to maybe see if I was mistaken about who called, but I wasn't. It's Laura's number. He's calling from Laura's