“Beeeeeeeep.”
I regained consciousness with a start, the neon blue of my alarm clock pulling me into reality. I sighed, stretched my legs, and swept the whisps of hair from my eyes that had worked themselves loose from the tight grip of my pony tail holder. I had been dreaming. I struggled to recall the details, but after a few minutes all I could remember was a grey blur.
I rolled out of bed and slipped on my neon orange Karvanas tennis shoes. Adjusting the light blue spandex tank top and Nike shorts, I made my way down the hall, stopping only to give Murphy a quick pat on the head as he snoozed in the corner chair. I had made a habit of sleeping in my running clothes, allowing me and extra 15 minutes of much needed sleep.
I stepped out into the cool envelope of the early morning. A fine, misty breeze met my skin and my cheeks took on a rosy glow. It was still dark, but the golden fingertips of dawn were threatening to break the horizon any second. I stepped off the porch and took off down the street, leaving all of my thoughts and worries behind.
Running. The earliest sport ever created by man. I spent an hour before school every morning out in the neighborhood running. Some call me crazy, others dedicated. But I loved it. I loved the quiet of the trees, as the wind rustled their leaves. I loved how frogs jumped fearlessly across my path, feeling powerful and invincible in the dark. I loved the feeling of my feet pounding the pavement and my arms pumping back and forth. The surrounding darkness was like a blanket of trust, protecting me from the truth of life. In the dark, I could pretend the world was; peaceful. I could watch everything spring to life as nature worked its magic. As soon as the sun was up, I knew that everyone else would be starting their busy days, rushing out and jumping in their cars, contained in their own little worlds.
Most mornings, the darkness was calming, but as I ran this morning, there was a feeling of tension in the air. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was that triggered my paranoia. I slowed to a walk and looked around. A branch snapped. Dry leaves crackled. My eyes searched the shadows, straining to focus on the unknown noise. A wheezing sound met my ears like rough nails against a chalk board. My skin prickled. A cool sweat broke out on my brow as I took a tentative step backwards. Suddenly, fear and terror gripped my body, settling in my veins, freezing my muscles. There was a man. Or maybe a woman. I couldn’t tell, and frankly I did not care. Everything inside was telling me to run, to get away and hide. Before I could take another wobbly step backwards, I was grabbed. A small gasp left my body as a man jumped me from behind. He was at least a foot taller and twice as wide as me. My ribs were buckling, my lungs bursting under his weight. Forcing a bag over my head, he called out to other person.
“I’ve got her. Bring the car around. We better move before she gets her air back and starts raisin’ a raucous,” rasped the gruff man as he held my arms in a tight grip behind my back.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping and praying with every bone in my body that I was dreaming. For the second time this morning, reality came crashing down around me. Next thing I knew, I was being forced into a van, my vision still clouded by the hood. I could feel the rough calluses of the man’s hands as he held me down, then the sharp pinch of a needle in my neck and the icy cold liquid entering my veins, and then…nothing.