When You Know Your Captor

They say it’s never a stranger. It’s always someone you know. Someone you trust. Someone from your inner circle. That couldn’t be more true.

I watch as he sharpens the knife, it’s stainless steel blade glinting in the dim light of the trailer. My hands are bound behind my back and I can’t remember the last time I had anything to eat or drink. My strength is fading and all I can think of is Ryan and how I have to get back to him.

My captor looks at me and flashes a lupine grin. He stands from his stool and walks toward me. I cringe as he leans down to my face, his breath sour in my nostrils. He steps around behind me and I feel his fingers against the skin of my wrist.

He slips the knife between my hands and severs my bindings.

“Go,” he says.

I gasp, bringing my hands together, rubbing my wrists. They are raw from the struggle against the nylon rope.

I struggle to stand but manage. I’m woozy.

He goes back to his perch on the stool and begins to sharpen his knife again. He looks up at me, his eyes those of a predator. To think he was someone I trusted only a week before.

“Tell Ryan I send him my best,” he says without looking up.

I reach for the door and I throw it open.

I run.

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