Photo Copyright: Marie Gail Stratford
Henry awoke on a cold surface, his wrists and ankles bound.
Through the gag he screamed, “Help,” but only a muffled sound escaped!
Where am I? I remember bringing Hope’s things to charity. Drove home, and something pinched my back.
He struggled to sit up. A thud filled the air, as his head smacked into a hard object.
He writhed; the effort caused the blindfold to slip. A bright light permeated the space. Oh my god, I’m in a box. Take a deep breath. If they wanted me dead, they would have killed me. In the distance a door creaked.