
The day I got kidnapped started off pretty normal.
I sat at my dark oak desk, pushing my brush up and down on the page. Light spilled from the window, illuminating the lamb I had spent three weeks painting. I paused to admire my work. Done! Finally! I then went to the kitchen to grab myself a celebratory snack. I walked back into my room, holding my bowl of grapes.
Then everything went black.
I tried to scream, but someone clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t make a sound,” a low voice demanded. What
was going on? I felt like I was moving. Whoever it was tied my feet together. Same with my hands. I then heard a car engine start. Again I felt like I was moving. Where was I going? Who was behind the voice that I heard?
What was going to happen next?
CATHRINE
I walked down the halls of Riverside Middle School. Ariana, the day before, had told me that she would show me her finished lamb.
But when I arrived in the art classroom, she wasn’t there.
Ariana was never late for classes.
When the school bell rang, I grabbed my bag and hopped on the bus. Ariana hadn’t been at school all day. But she would have called if she wasn’t feeling well.
My phone then vibrated. It was a text from Ariana’s
mom.
ARIANA’S MOM: Did you see Ariana at school today?
CATHRINE: No. Why are you asking?
ARIANA’S MOM: Because she’s not here.
ARIANA
I had fallen asleep in what I thought was a car. When I woke up, I appeared to be in a guest room. My hands and feet were untied, but they had red marks from where the rope had been.
I tried to open the door.
Nothing. It was locked. There was a window, but all you could see through it were trees. Trees, trees and more trees.
When I sat down again, I could feel something in my jean pocket. I pulled out a slightly squashed granola bar. Good. At least I had something to eat. I was hungry, having missed dinner the night before.
The room had a queen-sized bed with pale blue sheets, a white dresser and two matching white nightstands.
I searched the dresser. Nothing. It was completely empty. Same with the first nightstand.
But the second nightstand had a phone.
I pulled it out. It had a solid black case, and the screen was slightly cracked. When I hit the power button, it showed the famous (or infamous) words ENTER PIN NUMBER. I then decided to try multiple different combinations.
0812. INVALID PIN.
0510. INVALID PIN.
1225. INVALID PIN.
0000. INVALID PIN.
4321. INVALID PIN.
1234. VALID PIN.
The phone lit up, showing an array of apps. After about ten seconds of scrolling, I found Hangouts.
I entered Cathrine’s phone number.
CATHRINE
Where could she be? I then opened Hangouts and looked to see if Ariana sent something.
The most recent text was from a few days ago.
ARIANA: I’m almost done with my lamb! I’ll show you on Friday.
I then noticed one text from a number I didn’t recognize. The screen name said Matthew. Who in the world was Matthew? And how did he get my number?
MATTHEW: This is Ariana. I’m in a house I don’t recognize. I don’t know why. I don’t have many details. Tell me if you received this message.
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The day I got kidnapped started off pretty normal.
I sat at my dark oak desk, pushing my brush up and down on the page. Light spilled from the window, illuminating the lamb I had spent three weeks painting. I paused to admire my work. Done! Finally! I then went to the kitchen to grab myself a celebratory snack. I walked back into my room, holding my bowl of grapes.
Then everything went black.
I tried to scream, but someone clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t make a sound,” a low voice demanded. What
was going on? I felt like I was moving. Whoever it was tied my feet together. Same with my hands. I then heard a car engine start. Again I felt like I was moving. Where was I going? Who was behind the voice that I heard?
What was going to happen next?
CATHRINE
I walked down the halls of Riverside Middle School. Ariana, the day before, had told me that she would show me her finished lamb.
But when I arrived in the art classroom, she wasn’t there.
Ariana was never late for classes.
When the school bell rang, I grabbed my bag and hopped on the bus. Ariana hadn’t been at school all day. But she would have called if she wasn’t feeling well.
My phone then vibrated. It was a text from Ariana’s
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