Bounded was the first of how I felt. Tied to what I see is a wooden chair in an unknown location. They cuffed my arms that I could not see behind my back, with my legs strangled by the ropes tied against the chair.
My fogged memories from last night's party served me the regret of drinking too much. My incorrigible partygoers' lifestyle made me an alcoholic. Hangover hammered my head, and the blinding lights above my head almost exploded it.
Too painful to adjust to the brightness, I struggled against the bound, but it just hurt my ankles and wrists. I felt my throat scratchy from the lack of hydration, with my stomach grumbling on the feeling of emptiness.
I have no habit of going around without feeding myself first, but then again, I was never kidnaped before, either.
I had a lot of questions, but I was too exhausted to scream and seek attention. Instead, I waited for my host to release me from my pain, and I saved my energy for future events.
I did not remember getting abducted, but the last person I saw was probably a girl who led me to the empty hotel room. She was marvelous, wearing a side-slit deep neckline gown, dark thick black hair decorating her face as she swayed her hips. Nita was her name. A voluble seducer caught me in her trap and led me here.
Other than her, I remember drinking my intoxicating whiskey, getting upset, going to the rooftop to get some air. I remember the party in pieces.
On the cue, I heard footsteps as I lifted my head to see two men approaching. Two tall men with weird dressing sense, too built for my liking with shades over their eyes in the darkness, came over with a water bottle.
I only desired the liquid they were holding, but I doubt if they cared about my desire. The man holding the bottle swayed it in his hold, tempting me to snatch it away from him.
Reluctantly, he attached the mouth of the bottle to mine, and my jaw hurt when I tried an unbearably big gulp, reminding me of the injury I received from the woman last night. Too afraid of never be able to drink again, I lingered a little more on the bore.
Half satisfied; half recovered, I glared at the man with the energy I saved from earlier. Another man came forward with a recorder, "Identify yourself."
"Why? You don't know who you kidnapped?" My sarcasm got me a blow on my already injured right jaw. "Cedric..... I am Cedric Hart." I followed the instructions in my raspy voice.
I removed my eyes from the looming figures and focused on my surroundings. The blinding lights make it harder for me to capture every corner, but manifestly, they had me restrained in the abandoned warehouse.
As much as I hated interacting with these two buffoons, they left me with no other choice. "Who ordered you for this?"
The man who offered me water came into more light. I noticed his chevron mustache: thick and sinister over his dark complexion. "We're not allowed to talk to you."
"Fine." I sigh. "Tell them to come soon and feed me something." I almost yelled at the last part. I smell like vomit in my previous night's suit from the party, but I kept that demand for later. The warehouse was so empty that our voices echoed.
The guy with the recorder, who was a little shorter than the other guy, I heard him talking with someone on the phone a few feet away from us.
"Yes, he is awake." He confirmed it to someone. "Do not worry. We will take care of him." I wanted to punch them, but my body aches from sitting so long with my movements restrained for an unbearably lengthier period.
"No, sir. He's completely alright but a little low on sugar level." I grunted at that. "No, sir. He hasn't fed him for the past three days." The colors on my face left. I might have collapsed on the floor if not for the chair.
Three days?
My mind raced with various thoughts but one question pondered hard, my heartbeats raced, but I was inarticulate to ask them anything. My pressure increased on my brain, trying to remember the past three days.
"P-Past three days?" I asked when the guy ended the call. "Which day is it?"
"Wednesday." He shortly replied, but I swallowed hard at the thought. If I am here for more than three days, that simply means my father has not noticed my absence, or he can not find me. But how is that possible....a man like him can not find me?
"Who are you, people?" The shorter guy was checking for the head injury I received on the day of the kidnapping. "Where are we?" I kept asking.
"Florida." The man with the mustache replied. He played no role but just kept staring at me. The other guy glared at the man for responding to me. Quickly enough, I become restless. I wanted to get out; I was frightened, panic-stricken as I thought of never getting out of this place.
Did we come from New York to Florida? When? How?
These thoughts will surely be the cause of my nightmares. My father can not find me here; he would never be able to find me here. "Who ordered you for this?" It was an irritating process and typical of me to ask people who will never answer me.
I forgot my hunger; instead, I tried to free myself from the throbbing pain of restrain. The hangover disappeared, and I was ready to take over these two.
"Stop. You'll only hurt yourself." The shorter man holds me in the place, and I cringe. I spit on his face and instantly regretted it when he raised his arm to attack me. It was only because of my restriction towards any kind of movement, or he would have never been able to touch me like that. Even as a man, I despised his touch.
"Behave. Your father will not come to get you." He met my eyes and warned. I just wished for my arms to be free more than anything at the moment.
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