Air! Need air!
Calm down. Calm down. Don’t panic, or you’ll fucking die!
I was enclosed, so I needed to conserve air. If I panicked, I’d use more.
I wasn’t claustrophobic.
But I also didn’t know where the hell I was.
Once, in college, Jade and I had gone to a sensory-deprivation tank before finals. The advertisement had said that forty-five minutes in the tank was equal to five hours of sleep.
We were closed in, couldn’t move.
And I’d never been more relaxed.
I closed my eyes against the darkness, trying to force my mind to go back to that place, that feeling of peace I’d had while being closed in, suspended in salty water.
But I wasn’t suspended. I wasn’t buoyant.
I was trapped, tied up, gagged, and in some type of moving vehicle.
God, the darkness!
A trunk. Was I in the trunk of a car? With no ventilation? The exhaust fumes would kill me. But I had to breathe. Had to fucking breathe.
Go back, Marj. Go back. How did this happen?
Bryce. I’d been talking on my phone to Bryce and Joe. I’d just seen Colin in the park, and he’d told me… God, he’d told me…
His father had sold him to Tom Simpson. Or so he thought. He was going to get me the documentation. He left. I called Bryce, and then—
Nothing.
Not until now.
Not until this hell.
Another scream lodged in my throat, unable to penetrate the gag in my mouth. I coughed, gasping.
Get hold of yourself! You need to stay calm!
How? How was I supposed to do that?
Think of happiness. Think of something that brings you joy. Anything. Anything.
Bryce.
Bryce loved me. I loved him.
He’d been on the other end of the phone when whatever happened had happened. He’d know something wasn’t right. He’d come for me. He and my brothers would have a posse looking for me in no time.
In no time…
No time…
Don’t go there. I have all the time in the world.
All the time in the world.