Mine
Isla
My hands were almost numb. I looked down at my fingers, clutching my brown bag tightly in my lap. I scan the area, anxiously taking in the view, hoping that my eyes will finally find what they are searching for. Nothing. After four hours of waiting, nothing had happened. I slowly uncurl one of my hands from the bag to reach into my pocket. My fingers earnestly hunt for the only constant in my life for the last forty-eight hours. As I finally find the wrinkled paper, my heartbeat quickens as it has done each time I am forced to read the few words from the paper. If you want to see her again, be at this address with $20,000. That’s all the paper said. I didn’t even know if I was in the right area at the park, or if I should move closer to the gate, or further into the trees that surround the nature reserve. Too afraid of somehow angering the invisible captor, I remain on the bench, exposed in such a purposeful manner, that my cooperation was obvious.
