Madeleine Abducted (2 page)

Jeremy looked back down at
Maddy
and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Before she could decline
again, Jeremy waved away the question. “No need for an answer. I can at least
stay behind and help you to your car.”

Her eyes looked over to the group waiting by the doors. She
smiled up at Jeremy. “Thank you, but no. They’re waiting on you; you should go
join them. I’ll have no problem getting to my car.” He hesitated, before
finally relenting. Nodding at her once, he turned and moved to join the
departing group.

An hour later, Madeleine carried her instrument through the
large, nearly empty parking lot, struggling not to break the rose given to her
by the beautiful, yet intimidating stranger. As she approached her car, a limousine
pulled up beside her. She looked over to see the rear passenger window rolling
down. Holding her breath, she wondered if this was the same man from backstage.
When the window finished lowering and revealed the passenger on the other side,
she felt oddly disappointed to discover it was someone else entirely. The man
behind the window was older, his handsome face made even more distinguished by
the silver streaks at his temples. He was obviously wealthy, exuding an air
about him of authority and prestige. Madeleine wasn’t shocked when he called
out to gain her attention: she simply believed that he was another admirer
wanting to congratulate her on her performance.

He opened the door to his car and stepped out and she was
instantly impressed with his choice of tuxedo. He looked debonair, moving with
a swagger that gave away his refined taste and upbringing. He was definitely
sure of himself and the slight smirk to his mouth gave him a boyish charm. Two
large men stepped out of the car behind the first. After unfolding their large
frames and exiting the vehicle, they took their place behind the older man.
Maddy’s
heartbeat skipped from nervous energy as they
approached, but she swallowed down her concern, assuming the man to be a
politician or other well-known public figure.

The men approached and once they were within close
proximity, the older man reached out his hand as if to shake hers.
Maddy
wiped her hand down the side of her gown to remove
the moisture on her palms before reaching over to accept. As soon as they
touched, his grip tightened around her hand and his smile dripped with malice.

“Good evening, Ms. Clark,” he said. “I wanted to introduce
myself to you and let you know how impressed I was by your performance.” The
words were polite, but there was an undertone of cruelty. Madeleine’s heart
pounded against her chest as she forced a smile.

Her voice was laced with trepidation when she responded,
“Thank you. I believe it was one of the best I’ve given to date. Are you a
fan?”

She attempted to pull her hand from his grasp, but his grip
tightened in response. He pulled in closer and said, “I have not always been a
fan, but I came here tonight because my son has a huge appreciation for you. His
birthday is coming up, you see, and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind giving him a
private performance.” His eyes seemed to darken as he spoke and the two men
behind him moved so that they were on either side of
Maddy
.
Suddenly, their hands came up, grabbing her arms. Before she could react, one
of the guards covered her mouth so that she could not scream.

The man’s smile faded once his guards had her secured. “There
is no need to struggle, Ms. Clark. It won’t do you any good.” With that, the
man turned and started making his way back to his car. One guard lifted
Maddy
while the other retrieved her instrument. She screamed
into the guard’s hand, but knew that there was no one around to hear her pleas
for help. She was dragged to the car and shoved into the back while the other
guard took her instrument to the trunk.

Desperately kicking and flailing her arms, she attempted to
break free, but once she was placed in the car, more hands grabbed onto her,
and a cloth bag was thrust over her head. She felt rope being tied around her
arms and legs. Finally, something hard hit her in the back of the head, and her
body instantly went limp. Madeleine realized, as the blackness slipped in and stripped
her from consciousness, that tonight, the stage was not what she needed to
fear.

Madeleine woke up to discover herself locked inside a dark
room. Groggy and slow moving, her head was pounding and she was disoriented
from the lack of light. The normal symptoms of panic were oddly absent; her
mind struggled from the lack of adrenaline pumping through her body. Slowly,
she moved her hand to her head and pondered how her body could feel so weightless,
but unusually heavy at the same time. As she tested her ability to move, the
squeak of metal could be heard. She reached down to find what felt like canvas
pulled taut beneath her. Her hand slid across the canvas, the sound reminding
her of the same serrated harmonic you would achieve by lightly sliding your
finger along the string of an instrument. The sound was oddly comforting in its
familiarity. Abruptly, her hand came upon a cold metal bar, to which the canvas
was attached, and
Maddy
deduced that she was lying on
a simple cot.

Rolling onto her back, she felt something cold against her
leg. Slowly, she pulled her leg up to investigate and discovered a metal
shackle locked around her ankle. She reached down and gave the chain a hard tug
and quickly determined that the binding was secure.

She laid back down, the throbbing in her head increasing
from her movement. Her thoughts were slow and jumbled and she felt numb in some
areas, while tingly in others. It was difficult to move her appendages and
oddly, she felt like giggling. As she laid there in confusion, her mind
traipsed back to her performance at the concert hall. Her thoughts briefly
touched upon events from that evening: the solo performance; Jeremy’s smiling
eyes; the green-eyed stranger; and finally, the older gentleman in the parking
lot. She remembered being grabbed and forcefully shoved into the back of a limousine.
Her nerves started to regain feeling, the synapsis in her brain communicating
once again. Adrenaline began to finally wind its way through her veins while
fear tugged at even the deepest recesses of her mind.

She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat was so dry
and raw that she couldn’t get out much more than a raspy whisper. She wondered
if this was the type of nightmare where she was paralyzed, unable to free herself
from some unseen force. Her body felt languid and she wondered if she’d been
drugged or if this was an aftereffect of the blow to her head. A cold breeze
caressed and prickled her skin. Her hand reached to investigate, delivering the
realization that she had been stripped of her clothes.

She wanted to be strong. She wanted to think that she was adjusted
well enough to be able to face her circumstances with determination and
courage. But as understanding seeped into her mind, fear consumed her, leaving
her feeling helpless, reducing her to tears. Although it’s easy to scream for a
victim to run or fight when you see them in a movie or read about them in a
book, the futility of the situation is far more evident when you find yourself
in their place.
Maddy
curled herself into a tight
ball; her body shook as she sobbed. The heat from her tears slowly cooled,
leaving icy trails from the paths they traveled down her cheeks.

After regaining consciousness, time snuck by as Madeleine
lay unaware of its passage. The lack of light or sensory stimulation kept her
mind stagnant and confused. Second, minutes, hours or days could have passed
and she wouldn’t have known. Desperate for sound, she kicked out her leg at
times just to hear the rattle of the chain, or she would move on the cot to
hear the thin aluminum bars groan from her weight. Any noise was welcome within
the suffocating silence of her dark space. At some point, her eyes dried up and
she reached a numb state. She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t happy, she wasn’t sad;
she just was. Her mind wandered from why she’d been captured, to the identity
of her abductors, and on to the question of their intentions. But even those
thoughts were smothered under the weight of the hopelessness she felt.

As her mind aimlessly drifted, a solitary note lightly
played within the recesses of her mind. Like a small glimmer of light and
warmth,
Maddy
chased the note within her thoughts as
it grew in volume and intensity. That note slowly changed into another, and
then, blessedly, another. She tried to let herself be absorbed in the haunting
melody of the cello’s song that played within the confines of her imagination;
an escape from the tragic circumstances of the present. She was most likely
hallucinating, but it didn’t matter. The song was a gift, a distraction, and
she was swept up in the feelings it elicited. Her body floated with the waves
of sound as it rose and fell. At times it was so loud, it caused her heart rate
to increase with its intensity, but when it dipped back down to only a slight,
soft reverberation, she felt like she was sinking into nothingness with its
threatened absence. Her breathing began to keep time with the tempo of the
melody. She became the music, losing herself within the ethereal plane it
produced.

One song gracefully ended, allowing another to begin. Each
piece, wrapped within melancholy and despondency; but the absolute perfection
of the harmony within the notes, the sharps and the flats, combined with
everything in between, added beauty to the evocative and emotional depths of
that sadness. Was this her soul speaking to her from within? Or had she simply
lost her mind to the environment that surrounded her? In truth, the cause of
the music didn’t really matter; the freedom she found within it was the only
thing for which she cared.

As she continued to be carried within a musically induced
trance, a sliver of light appeared before her. It was distant and faint and she
blinked repeatedly, thinking visual illusions had now joined her auditory
manifestations. She held her hand out above her, sweeping it along as she
created the music from air. Her other hand moved as if playing an instrument
that did not truly exist. She didn’t pay much attention as that sliver of light
became wider and she all but ignored the creaking hinges as a door was being
opened. Still lost in her fantasy, she didn’t notice as a large man entered
through that door and walked over to her. A beam of light hit her face just
before the force of the man’s hand rocked her head sideways.

“Snap out of it, bitch!” he yelled.

She was instantly removed from her reverie and her jaw stung
from the impact of the slap across her face. Tears sprang from her eyes and her
mind was suddenly stripped of any happiness she’d gained in her delusional
state. Before she could react, a large hand painfully gripped her arm and
pulled her up from the cot. The chain around her ankle rattled as she was forced
to stand; her legs threatened to give out from their lack of use.

Another vicious slap impacted with her face and the force of
it knocked her back. Her neck craned and her head spun in the direction of the
blow.

“You need to wake the fuck up. It’s almost time for the
party.” The man’s voice was rough and menacing and it was followed by a
sickening chuckle.
Maddy
instantly recoiled at the
sound, but his grip around her arm was so tight, there was no means for her to
escape.

As her body reawakened, her bladder suddenly screamed with
the need to release. She wasn’t able to hold it in the vertical position she
now found herself and a warm trail dribbled down her leg.

The beam of the man’s flashlight traveled down her body,
stopping suddenly on the puddle forming beneath her. “What the fuck
?!
You sick bitch!”
Maddy
was
thrown back suddenly, landing in the urine that now spread along the floor. She
watched the beam of the flashlight as the man turned and left the room; closing
the door, he returned her to the pitch-black darkness. Multiple nerves called
for her attention: her head and neck ached from being struck in the face; her
body retched from being soaked in her own foul-smelling fluid; and a sharp pain
shot through her hips and back from being thrown to the ground. Before she
could process anything more, the door once again flew open and Madeleine was
struck with the ice-cold spray of a fire hose.

A scream tore out from her throat as the deluge of water bore
down on her body. The icy temperature of the water only adding to the pain
caused by the strength of the hose’s spray; she felt like someone was dragging razorblades
across her skin. Within minutes the onslaught of frigid water stopped, but her
skin continued to sting. Her body began trembling, now completely soaked, in
the freezing cold of the room. The door closed and she was consumed, yet again,
by the void and unrelenting darkness. Her arms folded across her chest in a
pathetic attempt to warm herself as she sank to the floor.

The door swung open again, but this time, a different man
entered. He was backlit for the most part, shadows hid the discernible features
of his face, but she could see that this man’s frame was thinner than the
first. His shoes slowly clicked as he walked, finally stopping just short of
the puddle of water that surrounded her.

“Are you going to continue sitting
there
crying?” he asked. “Or are you going to be a good girl and get up to follow me?
I’ll be extremely disappointed if I have to get my shoes wet grabbing ahold of
you and forcing you up.”

His voice was smoother than the first man’s, almost
consoling in the depth of its tone. The only response she could manage to his
words was the chattering of her teeth.

“I’ll ask you one more time, Cricket, are you going to get
up on your own, or do I need to force you?”

Cricket??

Her body was frozen … in motion and temperature … and she
wasn’t able to respond to him or the odd name with which he’d referred to her. Even
if she had been able to respond: What do you say to a strange man who’s been holding
you captive? It’s not exactly like a person can simply blurt out
‘No, thanks, but I’m happy sitting here
freezing on the wet concrete floor.’
It didn’t matter. Fear was
constricting her body in such a way that even an attempt at movement or
response would be feigned at best.

The man let out an exasperated sigh, “I guess we’ll do this your
way.” Then he called for someone outside the room, “Marcus!”

Her body flinched when he raised his voice, almost as if,
subconsciously, she knew what was about to happen. As feared, the first man
came lumbering back through the door. A whimper escaped her trembling lips as
she shook her head and cowered back from his approach.

“No.” Her voice was whisper soft and barely discernible,
even to herself.

“Ah, she speaks. It’s a miracle.” His droll words were
spoken with obvious condescension. “Stand, Cricket, or else Marcus here will
have to
assist
you.”

She had no other choice but to do as the man ordered. Yes,
technically, she could resist, but the last thing she wanted was for Marcus to
touch her again. She peered up at the backlit silhouettes of the men standing
above her. Her hair hung in damp clumps in her face, which, thankfully, was
long enough to hide her breasts. Uncurling herself from the ball she’d formed
on the floor,
Maddy
pushed herself up, despite the
disputes of her body and mind. She stood on shaky legs and nearly fell over
from the lack of muscle strength. Once she was standing, the smaller of the two
men stepped around the puddle and gently took her arm in his hand.

“Marcus, leave us,” he said.

The large man let out a huff at having been dismissed, but
turned around and did as he was told.

She was pulled closer toward the door, her legs resisting
the movement. Pulling a key from his pocket, the man bent down to remove the
shackle from her leg. Once she was free, he forcefully shoved her toward the
door.
Maddy
stumbled over her own feet and the man’s
grip tightened around her arm to keep her from falling. Tears began pricking at
her eyes and she considered fighting back. Realizing that any fight she could
put up would be a weak attempt in her condition, the uselessness of such an effort
was not lost on her. She was a gentle person. She played music, that’s ALL
she’d done; she began to lament the life experiences she passed up as she
realized the likelihood of
ever
experiencing them had been taken from her.

As they neared the door, the man stopped and moved in closer
to her.
Maddy
flinched back as his grip tightened, but
he pulled her in closer, so that he could speak softly into her ear. With a
business-like tone, he said, “Listen, Cricket, once we walk through that door,
your acts at resistance need to stop. I’m somewhat more forgiving than your Master
will be and I’m certainly more patient than his father. If you want to make it
through this with the least amount of pain possible, I suggest you do as you
are told without fighting. You will not win against them, so you need to accept
your circumstances and make the best of it.”

The grit in her voice sounded as painful as it felt when she
asked, “W-why … why are you doing this to me?”

He took a moment to consider his words, before responding,
“This is your fate, Cricket. Asking why isn’t going to do anything for you
except make that fate a much more painful journey. You need to learn the rules
of your position and learn them quickly if you want to make a smoother
transition into your new role.”

“And what is my role?” she asked. Her voice was stronger
this time and she would have been glaring at him, if she could actually see him.

Pulling her close once again, he warned. “I will tell you
this one more time: asking questions will only make this more difficult for you
to survive … ”

Maddy
flinched at the word
‘survive’; it was an open confirmation that her life was endangered. Her mind
could no longer hide behind the mask of denial that it used to defend her
sanity.