THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA

Mia

This is it. I feel the butterflies flooding into my stomach as I take in the crowded airport. I look around the airport hoping to catch sight of my housing agent who is meant to pick me up from the airport and drive me to my new apartment. I dial his number and it goes straight to voicemail. 

  “Excuse me.” a voice says behind me and I move away to let the woman walk by. I head to the waiting chair to avoid getting in the way of people who have places to be. The address of my new place is saved in my phone but I decide to wait for the agent for a while before heading out. My phone dings and I quickly check it only to see it’s from Noah asking if I have gotten to my place. Although he is just a few years older than I am, Noah acts a lot like an uncle. He moved to the Rio Verde sometime last year and we quickly hit it off as friends. I’m here all thanks to him and I hope I won’t go back empty handed.

I dial his number instead and he answers on the first ring. “Is this the next big author speaking?” He jokingly says and I scoff.

   “I just got here.” Even though I try to act indifferent, the thought of having my book sold nationwide gives me butterflies. 

  “What about the apartment? How nice is it?” Noah asks. I hear the loud bang of the trunk of his ancient trunk and shake my head. Noah will rather chew nails than give out his trunk to a junkyard. I sigh and stretch out my legs.

  “I’m waiting for the agent. His phone is not going through.” I reply. 

  “It should be 7pm over there. You have the address with you. Shouldn’t you go there already? I don’t think you should be walking around in the dark especially in a city you’re new to.” I can already imagine Noah dressed in his 1970s slacks shaking his head in disappointment. 

  “I’m going now. Don’t worry.” I assure him and I heard him sigh.

  “Be safe.” The call ends and I stand up and tighten the strap of my backpack.

My eyes wander out of the airport and truly, it is already getting dark out. I open my last message with the agent and check the address. The apartment number and door pin are all there so I decide not to waste any more time. Dragging my two suitcases behind me, I walk out of the airport was is hit by a sudden hot air. It isn’t as hot as the air in Texas but it is hot enough to make me wish I’m not wearing a sweatshirt.

I flag down a taxi and thankfully, the driver helped carry my large bags.

  “Where are you headed?” He asks and I call out the address the agent gave me. The driver furrows his eyebrows and glances at his wristwatch. “We should hurry.” 

I feel the air hit my face and we drive passed the fancy high rise buildings. There are a lot of lights so it doesn’t even look like nighttime. The big city is surely different from my town, Rio Verde. I can already imagine my mom making dinner, the sheriff hunting down teenagers planning their next party, the small supermarket down the street playing soft pop music. The thought of it makes a small smile appear on my face but it is too early to feel homesick.

Soon after, the taxi enters into another part of the city that is less populated. The houses look broken down and in dire need of repairs. The alleys send shivers down my spine and I wonder how the apartment I’m to stay in fit into this part of the city. The taxi stops abruptly in front of a semi-decent looking apartment complex.

  “Here we are.” The driver looks a little troubled as he stares at the rear view mirror and the side mirror simultaneously. I alight the taxi, half hoping he will help me with my bags but the hope quickly withers when he speeds off the minute my second suitcase touches the ground.

I look up at the building and check the address yet again. It is correct. I pull my bags behind me and enter the building. I am greeted by a subtle smell of stagnant water and sweat. Rushing to the elevator before the smell gets worse, only to be met with a small cubicle that has a number of similarities with a high school restroom. The wall of the elevator has stains on them, stains that looks like they’ve been there even before I was born. I click on the floor number and the elevator makes a loud noise before it starts moving. My heart begins to pound aggressively as scenarios of suffocating flash through my mind. 

Thankfully, the elevator gets to my floor and stops. It makes another loud noise before the doors open. Apartment number 12. I stop in front of my supposed apartment. The doorstep is littered with different footwear but I don’t pay them any attention. I punch in the passcode the agent gave me but it doesn’t work. My heart rate begin to slow down and I take a deep breath. I conclude that it’s the nerves working. The passcode comes out incorrect again. I hear a loud cry from the apartment and I freeze. There should be a mistake. The apartment is meant to be empty. MY apartment is meant to be empty.

I slowly raise my fist and knock on the door. I check the apartment number for the fifth time in 3 minutes and it’s still the same.

  “Coming!!” A tiny voice yells. The door is yanked open by a child not more than six. The large brown orbs stare up at me and I let out a shaky breath.

  “I’ve warned you to stop opening the front door.” A woman appear behind the child, dragging him by his ear. “Go and turn off the heater.” She says before focusing her gaze on me.

  “Hey, good evening. I.. uh.. I’m looking for..” I have no words to explain what was going on. 

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asks glancing at my bags and I shake my head.

  “I paid for an apartment online through an agent and I was given this address. I-I.. the agent is not picking up his calls. I think I-“

  “Have been scammed.” The woman completes the sentence. Saying it out loud feels like I am being drenched in ice. 

A loud crash erupts from the apartment and the woman sighs. “Milo!! I’ll break your legs!!” She yells, “Look sweetie, I would advice you find somewhere to spend the night for now. Being out by this time is not the best idea.” The door shuts in my face and the reality of the situation begins to sink in.

Maybe it is a wrong address.

Maybe it’s a wrong apartment number.

It has to be a minor mistake that will definitely be fixed by tomorrow. I slowly walk back to the death trap elevator while searching for the closest hotel to stay. I guess this part of the town has no plans for strangers as the only accommodation available is an inn. 

I use my phone’s GPS to locate the inn. Maybe it’s the fear or anxiety but I feel eyes watching me as I tug my luggage behind me. There’s no sign of a taxi. The few people on the road hurry to their destinations. I say a short prayer and increase my pace. My arms aching from the large bags I packed. Some of my fingers are even becoming numb but the faint smell of weed tells me the source is close so I can’t stop to rest.

Sheila’s Inn looks just like I imagine it will: broken down, smelly and barely lit. The reception desk is empty and I wonder if I should’ve just begged the woman in Apartment 12 to let me stay the night but who will let a stranger stay in their place all of a sudden? No one. Two teenagers walk into the Inn chewing their gum loudly. One of them looks at me and smiles sweetly. 

   “Are you staying the night?” She asks and I slowly nod. The other girl looks at me head to toe and shrugs. “Sheila will be out in a second. She went to the bathroom. Just keep your stuff in the luggage cart and wait for her.” The girl continues.

  “Thank you.”

I let out a breath of relief. The two girls help me load the bags inside the cart. I head over to the waiting area and try calling the agent but his phone goes straight to voicemail. 

  “Take more towels to room 2!” A voice orders and I look up to the reception. A woman who looks like she’s in her mid forties is already sitted there with a nasty scowl on her face. I look at who she was barking at only to see a man identical to her already carrying the towels. “How many nights are you staying?” It takes me a while to realize she’s talking to me. I shuffle my way to the desk and mumble a greeting. She raises her eyebrow at me impatiently.

  “Just a night.” She nods her head. 

  “That will be an eighty.” 

I open my wallet and take out a hundred dollar bill. She tears out a receipt and places a key on it. 

  “Take your stuff to the hallway by your left. Feel free to use the vending machine. Goodnight.” 

I nod my head and turn to the direction of the luggage cart only to see it missing. I close my eyes and count to five before looking around. I am really not imagining it. My bags are not there neither is the luggage cart.

   "Sheila? Where is the cart that was over there?” I ask.

  “Cart?”

  “Yeah,” I slowly turn to face her. “Two girls directed me to keep my bags there and wait for you and now…”

  “Fuck my life.” Sheila swore, “Marcelo!! Those brats have robbed another customer.”

Robbed?

The man who was carrying towels rushes into the reception and looks at me with pity in his eyes. “I thought they were behind bars.” He said. He and Sheila begin to mumble amongst themselves but I can feel the air leave my lungs.

  “What do you mean robbed?” I ask. Sheila shakes her head.

  “Those two girls you met have been terrorizing us for a very long time. First, it started with petty theft and they eventually started robbing customers. Especially that god forsaken one with her sweet smile.”

Dread creeps over me like a cold blanket. My heart sinks, my stomach twists into knots, and my mind races with worst-case scenarios. My breath is caught in my throat as I watch the siblings mumble amongst themselves again. 

A notification enters my phone and I overlook my mom’s text. 10:08pm just three hours of arriving and I have lost everything. I quickly rush out of the Inn hoping to at least see the girls but the street is dead. The only light available is the dull street light and the store at the far end of the street. 

My bags not in sight.