Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27008899-20151110120932

I can make out the light as it seeps through the cracks with each passing street lamp. The smell of oil and permeates the carpet, as I lay my head against a metal rod in this metal moving coffin that I know is just my temporary resting place. I can hear voices talking just under the music that was placed at a volume intended to drown out my kicking and screaming. Blind and bound, I have no clue how long I have been in here or how far we have gone, as my consciousness fades in out from the fumes.

We go through our lives thinking we are safe at home. Home is our sanctuary where no evil can penetrate. This delusion we tell ourselves is far from fact. Walking into my home this day I had expected, what I always expect. My husband and kids sitting in front of the TV waiting to greet me with a hardy "Hi Mom!" And "Whats for dinner?" Why would I expect anything else? I never hurt anyone. I don't deserve this. My family, oh god.

As I open the door I heard something strange, nothing. The sound of nothing is unusual in a house with three kids two dogs and a husband. "Hello, I'm home." I said only to hear my own voice tone echo through the halls. I hang up my keys as I listen but hear no response. "Hello?" I said hoping that someone would respond. Then it occurred to me they must all be out back. Occam's Razor, right? As I make my way to the back door everything goes black.

Before I have a chance to fight my hand and feet are bound in tape. My struggles are nothing more than annoying wiggles to the two men carrying me from my home. I am gently placed in my steel tomb and hear the lid shut with a loud thud. What have these monsters done with my family? What plans do they have for me? The possibility of being forced into sex trafficking runs through my mind.

I begin to cry as I struggle to free my hands from behind my back. Wait, the metal rod. It's a tire iron. I begin to move my head pushing the iron down under my shoulder. Shrugging, I am able to push it down further to my elbows. With a few movements of my arm I am able to feel the metal on my finger tips. Several scooping motions later and I can feel the sharp end in my palm. I begin chipping away at the tape. Piece by piece my hand begin to more free.

Just as I free my hands the car stops. I begin working on the black hood placed over my head as two car doors shut. My fingers quickly search around my neck looking for anything that could be holding it. I give up and prepare myself as I hear the two men approach the back of the car. I ready the sharp end of the tire iron to be the first thing they see and last thing they feel. The trunk opens with a click and with a scream I sit up and blindly stab into the darkness. My forward motion is abruptly stopped as the tire iron pierced my kidnapper.

I hear several gasps as I jump from the trunk to my feet. I tear off the hood and look down to see, my husband not moving with half of the wrench end of the tire iron protruding from his eye, the other half buried deep into his skull. Over him with a horrified look stood, my brother. Behind him all my friends and family, my parents, and my children. Above them a banner that read "Happy 10th Anniversary" 