The Captive
A killer holds a group of women captive in a dilapidated barn.
It’s going to happen again.
My breath catches in my throat. I’m suffocating. Panicked. I look around at the others and I see the same look of terror in their eyes: will I be next?
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My mom is locked up in the same stall that I am, along with an elderly woman who mostly sits in silence. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t say sit – that makes it sound like we’re all spending a leisurely moment together. The rope around my neck, keeping me attached to the walls of the barn, doesn’t scream leisurely.
But boy, do we scream in here.
Every stall in this dilapidated old barn contains three women. Women of all ages, attached to the barn walls by the rope that’s around their necks. We scream for help, day and night, until our voices are reduced to no more than a croak. But it’s never any use – no one is coming to save us.
The Captor keeps us locked up in here, never letting us out to see the daylight. I can’t remember what it feels like to have the sun’s rays wash over my body. I can barely remember a time when this rope wasn’t wrapped around my neck, keeping me from freedom.
None of us knows why the Captor is doing this to us. Why, out of everyone else, we were the ones chosen to be held captive, cut off from the rest of the world. Why our lives are in the hands of a terrorist.
Every so often, the Captor will enter this prison of a barn and choose one woman. He will grab her by the rope around her neck, yank her behind him, and lead her out of the barn. It’s the same thing each time: the woman screams, begging him to show mercy, but he just stares blankly ahead as he drags her through the dirt. As the barn door shuts, we know we will never see that woman again.
But the Captor is never satisfied. He can’t have his collection of women grow smaller as he continues to kill us; for every woman he kills, he brings in another to tie up. It is an excruciating existence. There are times when we even long for the sweet release of death, but when it comes down to it, every woman’s survival instinct kicks in as the Captor pulls her away to meet her end.
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The rusty latch unhinges and the red door slowly creaks open as my body goes stiff in fear. Then footsteps. Those heavy, ominous footsteps. We all know what comes after the footsteps.
I look over at my mom, so terrified that my body is shaking. She gives me the most comforting look she can muster, though I can see how scared she is too.
“It’s okay, honey,” she says. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Not today.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
All of us in the barn collectively hold our breath. I feel like my heart is pounding as loudly as the footsteps.
Please don’t let me be chosen today.
Suddenly, the footsteps stop. Right outside my stall.
Terror takes over my body. My eyes well up with tears. I desperately try to get the rope off of my neck, but I can’t do anything with my body trembling this way.
Click.
The stall door swings open and the Captor stands there for a moment, looking at the three of us. His gaze finally stops on my mom.
“Please, I beg you, don’t do this!” she cries. “I have a daughter! Have mercy!”
He ignores her cries and grabs her by the rope around her neck, proceeding to drag her towards the stall door as she does everything she can to resist.
“NO!!!” I scream. “THAT’S MY MOM!!! Please, take me instead!”
My cries are futile. As she continues to scream, he yanks her through the door.
The last time I will see my mom.
Udders and tail disappearing into the darkness.



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