PRE-ASSUMED

11:36 P.M.

Everything went black. The world around me was deafeningly quiet. The only sensations I had were the hands-on my waist. It was from the person who picked me up and loaded me onto something that resembled a seat. I struggled to move because someone tightly clasped together both of my hands. Something that felt like a thick rope held my hands in place. I couldn’t even move my feet, as they were confined to each other. I tried shaking my head sideways but stopped when I came to realize that even a slight movement would cause me to crash down from where I was lying.

Then I heard a sudden thud and the sound of moving feet. After a few countable steps, it came to a halt. I tried to refine my listening skills, but I couldn’t hear a single voice or sound after a few minutes. After what seemed like an eternity, I could finally hear whispering. Then there was a sudden roar of an engine, and something moved. I could feel the movement, which made me believe I was lying down in the car seat and was being driven somewhere.

Where?

That was a mystery.

I wanted to speak. I tried to figure out where I was being taken, but I couldn’t. I tried, but nothing would come out of my mouth. But then I heard whispering and muttering around me. Someone in the front seat was on a call. Was it a driver or some other person in the passenger seat?

I don’t know.

He said, “Yes, everything is going according to our plan. We have tied Ivanka in the back seat, just like we had discussed. Don’t worry; we will be there according to the agreed-upon schedule. Okay, Bossman. We will see you there.”

I expected more, but that was the only sentence uttered before everything was silent again. The surrounding ambiance was not that of a rose garden. It was cold, spooky, and scary enough to make anyone pee in their pants, but that wasn’t what scared me the most.

I feared that no one would notice my absence at this time of the hour. I lived alone in this big city of Paris with no roommate to share my room. In the morning, my staff will definitely notice my absence. Now, I highly doubt that.

I never once in my life thought that some strangers would abduct me. But who does? It’s not something that someone wishes to experience.

Like most days, I closed the door of my bakery shop a little later than usual. It was 11: 30 P.M. in the night. I wrapped and cleaned everything. I grabbed my small bag pack, turned off all the lights in the room, locked the front door, and began walking back to my house. This was my typical day. I decided to take a different route. It was a bit shorter, but it wasn’t anything unusual as I tend to use that part of the way more often. Even though that section of the city is isolated, it isn’t dangerous. But now, I think it’s time to change my perception of it.

I was content with how my day went. Everything felt positive. I was walking calmly. To keep warm, I was dressed in black jeggings with a dark brown jacket over my long blue t-shirt. I paired my jeggings with brown boots and a grey beanie on top of my dark brown hair, which I left open.

Then suddenly, with no warning, everything in front of me went black. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. One person was blindfolding my eyes while another person fastened my hand. I was in shock. Perhaps that was why I stood as still as a rock because before I could comprehend anything, I was being lifted from behind while allowing the person who had tied my hand to replicate his actions with my legs as well. And before I knew it, I was being carried away. I had my mouth open the entire time, trying to make some sort of noise, but I couldn’t.

Within a few minutes, which felt like hours, the vehicle stopped. It brought me back to reality. There was a sudden jerk while pressing the breaks as I felt myself roll sideways. However, the four hands kept me from collapsing on the car’s floor pan. This incident led me to believe that two people in the back of the car accompanied me throughout the ride.

The car doors opened from the front and the back. The guy sitting across from me approached and whispered. “I am going to carry you inside.”

He put his foot down and began walking. I didn’t bother to move because I knew it would only make things worse. My wrist had already soared because of the rope’s grip, so it was best to remain calm and still.

I figured the person carrying me was walking straight. But in a split second, I felt the movement of being turned ninety degrees to the right, then ninety degrees to the left. Finally, he came to a complete stop. I heard the door crackling. He walked a couple of steps forward, placed me on the hard floor, and then closed the door.

It was as simple as that. There were no words, no warnings, nothing.

Everything around me was pin-drop silent.

No noise.

In the City of Love, Paris; I was locked in a room with my hands tied in front of my stomach and my legs bound together. I was laid flat on the stone-cold hard floor.

Ivanka Pattersons, a 26-year-old woman who refused to speak, was kidnapped, and no one knew when she would be released.