Astrid: A Club Alias Novella

He pauses once I sense we’re outside. Contemplating where to take me? I squirm, squealing some more just in case someone is out here, maybe on the other side of the street, maybe in the parking garage around the corner. But I know deep down, in our small town on this street, people are rarely over in this direction this late. It’s usually one of the benefits of this area, nice and quiet. Secluded.

And then we’re moving again, and we don’t go far before a door is opened, and it’s even darker inside my hood without any streetlights coming through the fabric. I bounce against him as he climbs a set of stairs, and as the shock starts to wear off, it hits me just how screwed I am. No one saw him take me from the studio. Obviously no one saw him holding me on the street. And my husband… oh God, my husband isn’t even supposed to get out of his evening appointment for another forty-five minutes.

And I’m very well aware of the damage someone can do to another person in forty-five minutes.

But in the midst of all this, the one thing I keep thinking in the back of my mind is At least my sister has my baby.

After everything I’ve been through, I can survive just about anything, as long as my baby is safe and can’t be held against me. She’s all that matters. And if I don’t make it out of here, at least I know she has the most perfect dad and the best aunt and uncles to give her an amazing life without me.

But whatever happens, if given the chance, I will get over this too. If I can find my happily ever after amidst the most traumatic decade anyone could ever experience, then I can rise from the ashes made from a life burnt to hell and back. Neil will find a way to heal me, just like he did before.

So I decide to just get through this. Whatever happens until I get free, I will power through and concentrate on just surviving, because that’s the only thing that matters. Surviving so I can go home to my baby girl and my amazing husband.

Chapter Four

I shiver as I’m placed on a bed or table of some sort. It’s cushioned beneath my back, and with swift moves I can’t track through touch alone, the next thing I know, he has my hands cuffed above my head. I feel the cool air of the room on my breasts, letting me know my towel has come loose in the struggle, and my face flames, knowing my captor can see that part of me. My knees clamp shut, and before I can get my bearings when the hood is removed from my head, it’s quickly replaced by some kind of blindfold.

Whatever it is, it leaves my mouth free, but instead of screaming, I plead with the man, “Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone what happened. Just let me get home to—” I cut myself off. I don’t want him to know I have a child. If he kidnapped me, who’s to say he wouldn’t go back to the studio, find my address in my belongings, and somehow find a way to take her too?

That would never happen. She’s with Seth, and then she would be with Neil. No one would ever be able to reach Josy.

“To who, pretty girl? Who do you wish to get home to?” he murmurs, his deep, ominous voice making me shiver once again.

I take a breath. “My husband. Let me get home to my husband,” I reply, and his dark chuckle makes the hair on my arms stand up.

“What would your husband think about you prancing around naked for the world to see?” he asks.

He’s got me there. I have no comeback for that. I wasn’t thinking about anything but enjoying my shower when I decided I needed that damn hairbrush.

I stay silent, and then I feel the towel being tugged out from underneath me, leaving me fully exposed. I whimper as a shudder wracks my entire body, and of all the thoughts that could pop into my head in such a predicament, Dammit, there goes my smooth legs and my fresh shave, is the one that’s front and center. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve been captured and handcuffed, naked, only God knows where, and I’m pissed I have gooseflesh that’ll leave me prickly? Is this shock? This has got to be shock.

“From your silence, I take it he wouldn’t be too pleased,” my captor says, placing his callous-roughened palm on my ankle and skimming it up the length of my calf, slowly—oh so slowly—until he reaches my knees where they are locked together with all the strength I have in my dancer’s legs. “Mmm… that’s it, little one. Fight me. I like it when there’s a challenge.”