Courtney’s POV

Panic claimed my body as I stared wide-eyed at the people who had stolen me from my life. They seemed equally as shocked, but managed to hide their surprise and instead blocked all of my exits, surrounding me. Their leader, or whom I assumed was in charge at least, stepped forward, unarmed. He smiled warmly at me and held his hands in a surrendering manner, but I still refused to trust him.

I kept my knife hidden in the waistband of my filthy shorts, but kept the heavy pan wielded before me. If I was going to go down, I wasn’t going to die without a fight at least.

“Hey there sweetheart, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’d you say you put down your pan, and we can just chat?” He asked, his voice surprisingly comforting and gentle, but that didn’t make me buy a single word.

I feigned thinking about it; as if I would ever put down my weapon when I knew what these people were capable of. Idiots.

“Why was I locked up then? Why bother looing for me if all you did was try and kill me?” I ask, slowly backing up, hoping to go unnoticed.

But the guards behind me simply stiffen and one of them jabs me in the back with the butt of his gun, pushing me forward. Asshole. I still and cross my arms over my chest, dropping the pan and raising an eyebrow smugly at the leader, who looks somewhat satisfied.

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself, “oh that. We were just making sure you were safe from harms way. And what’s this about trying to hurt you? You were our guest; we would never try to intentionally hurt you. See for yourself, nothing happened to you while you were there. I can assure you, your clothing is clean and new, and you are certainly not injured.”

His voice is so lulling and convincing, and I find myself glancing down at my clothing, which is still as battered and dirty as I remember. What on earth is this guy talking about?

All too soon I realize his intention, and his quiet command snaps my attention back to them, but it’s too late.

“Grab her,” he quickly orders, and the terrifying guards loom down on me, grabbing me trying to pin my frantically flailing limbs.

I thrash about, suddenly remembering my knife lodged against my hipbone, if only I could grab it, I might have a chance. I smack one of the guards in the face as hard as I can, and he briefly drops my arm, and I take that as my chance. I quickly kick one of the other guards in the stomach, using my other leg to trip another one. For a bunch of highly trained soldiers, they aren’t doing too well against a starving, exhausted teenage girl fueled by adrenaline.

I take this as my opportunity to hastily grab the knife and I slash it across a guard’s cheek, wincing when he cries out in pain. Then I proceed to kick and lash out at them, slicing the blade whenever one of them gets too close. So far, I don’t think I have seriously injured any of them, which was my intention; I just want to be free.

I dart out towards the front of the diner, ignoring the bloody corpse and keep moving, out, out the diner. I can hear their heavy footsteps pounding behind me, almost like my heart beating. I run past the intimidating vehicles and towards the back entrance, pressing my body against the wall.

I can hear them swearing loudly before the vans roar to life, driving off in alternate direction. Searching for me.

I wait a few minutes to gather my bearings and to ensure that they’ve indeed, left. Then I collapse to the ground and pull the small, shiny cellphone of from my back pocket; I have two now.

I quickly dial the police first, telling them the address of the diner and everything that has happened. I then hang up before they can question me; I can’t deal with that right now. I then open up Google Maps and search for my location, followed by searching for the nearest town, which is fifteen miles away. I have no way of getting there, and nobody really knows where I am.

I crawl back inside the deserted dine, having no options left. I pour myself another full glass of water and drink it all, taking small sips. Then I scavenge the fridge for something to eat, preferably high in fiber; fiber will keep me going.

Half an hour passes before I feel comfortable enough to move on. And still, the police are not here. I’ve given up on them ever coming to my rescue, and choose to simply wander the desert until I stumble upon civilization. Not before calling Ashley.

He picks up on the third ring, his voice both anxious and worried, “Courtney? What is it, are you okay?”

I want to sob so badly at his concern, but hold it in; have to stay strong. “They came for me, at the diner. They found me, they killed everyone here, and the police haven’t come yet.”

Ashley sucks in a sharp breath and whispers in a low voice, “a-are you alright though? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

I shake my head, keeping my voice emotionless, “I managed to fight back somehow. They’ve left me alone for now; I think they’re scouring the desert for me. But I can’t stay here; I think I’m going to look for help. I’ll call you guys if anything happens.”

Then I hang up.

All they need to know is how I am, and I don’t have an answer of that. So instead of pondering on my life or wallowing in my sadness, I stand up, the wind rustling my hair, and I start to walk.

Notes