Far From Home

Running for my life, during the middle of the night, through a wood I had never been in, was definitely not the safest thing I had ever done. I stumbled once again, closing my eyes for a brief moment to think up a plan.

Shaggy had earned my full trust by taking me upstairs with him and sneaking me out a back door, setting me free with my backpack he had managed to get back from the two larger men. Gripping the flashlight he gave me, I picked myself up off the ground and continued forward.

As Shaggy handed me my backpack in the doorway, he whispered that we would meet again someday soon, and he would explain everything, but I had to wait for him wherever I went. I wasn’t exactly sure how old he was, but surely he was old enough to not be hitting on fifteen year old girls.

Wait, am I still fifteen? The day I was kidnapped was exactly one week before my birthday, but could it have been a week already? I reached into my pocket to check the date on my phone, but came up empty.
I began to panic, checking every pocket on me, then checking by backpack. One of the men must have taken it, or it must have slipped out throughout the course of all this.

A noise came from somewhere in the woods and I crouched down in fear, unable to see a foot in front of me through the darkness. Suddenly, all my pain came back to me. The world around me spun around, and I threw up, but I pushed as hard as I could to keep moving. Finally, my body gave out, I collapsed on the ground, curled into a fetal position, and fell into the deepest sleep I’ve had in a while

“Guys, come on, we have to find her!” A raspy male voice called out. I wasn’t sure weather I was dead or alive, asleep or awake, but I didn’t move a muscle.

“Come on Matt, it’s 3 am and you haven’t slept in a while, you sure you didn’t make up this ‘dead body’?” another deep male voice asked. “Yes, Jorel, I swear I saw a girl about our age lying in the ditch, and she looked hurt.”

Footsteps came nearby, and an accented voice called out, “Aye, guys I found her!”

More footsteps, running footsteps, came toward me, definitely more than one person.

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying,” the “Jorel” man said. “I told you so,” the raspy voice said, “Dylan, you mind carrying her onto the bus?”
“Hold up!” another male voice said. “I will not let you guys take her onto the bus. For starters, we don’t know who this girl is. And besides, we always swore we would never have roadies. Especially chick ones. No!” “Come on Jordon, look at her, just look at her,” the accented voice said. “Yeah, she’s a total babe, but we aren’t bringing her onto the bus!”

“While you two argue like a bunch of girls, I’m taking her in,” Matt said. I felt someone pick me up bridal style and carry me a few feet, with a loud motor running right next to us, and carry me up a staircase. “I’m telling you, this is a dumb ass idea,” Jordon shouted, climbing on to the bus behind us. “Probably so, but oh well,” the accented voice said.

The pair of arms set me on a soft surface, possibly a bed, and pulled a blanket over my shivering body. I wasn’t sure who these men were, why they owned a bus, and why one of them refused to help me, but I was grateful they had found me. I drifted back into my deep sleep.