Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Writing Wednesday: Taking Zoey

     This is a bit from my new edgy YA novel, Taking Zoey.  I was inspired to write it after reading an article in the paper of an Australian girl's bones being found on a river bank.  Her name was Zahara.  How terrifying would it be to be taken like that, and if you were held for any amount of time before death, how desolate and hopeless you would feel.

Warning, this section would be rated PG-13 or R by the motion pictures association.  Consider yourself warned.

He practically threw me back in the closet.  He grabbed the lamp, my plate from the night before, and he took my clothes and left leaving me wet, cold, and in darkness.  I crawled to the little door at the end of my closet, opened it up and went through.  I continued toward the vent around the corner.  Though I was freezing, I unwrapped myself from my towel, and dropped it to the floor, then I slithered my way up into the vent.  Without clothes on, I had more room to wriggle around, but still got caught up at the hips.  Another few days of not eating would probably do it though.
     I squirmed my way back out, and was about to grab my towel when I heard my abductor coming down the stairs.  I quickly grabbed my towel and crawled as quickly as I could back to the door, went through it, and had just sat down on my mattress when my door opened. 
     “Why are you panting?” he asked.
     I had to come up with something fast, but what?  “I was just crying.”
     “Oh.”  He looked uncomfortable, which struck me as odd.  Maybe in his warped way he was actually starting to like me?  To feel for me?  To think of me as a human being instead of an object?  As a daughter figure even?  I mean, though he was a sick fuck and damaged his kid for life he must have loved her in his way?  Shown her some kind of normal affection at times.  He handed me a pair of sweats, boxer shorts and socks.
     “Thank you,” I said taking them from him.  I slid everything on immediately having been naked and freezing.   He turned to go and I said, “Are you ever going to let me go?”
     He never turned back to me and all he said was, “I’ve asked Georgia to marry me.  She’ll be moving in soon.  She doesn’t know I have a child.”  Then he left, locking me in behind him.
     So that was it.  He was going to kill me.
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John Messina, Personal Injury Attorney

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