My left hand tightly grasped the .45 caliber handgun, and I don’t have the slightest idea how it got there. I’m clueless as to where I am or how I came to be here. All I know is that my heart is pounding so fast that it might explode.
Struggling to stand with trembling legs, I reached for the nearest thing I could see: a counter of some kind. Holding onto the edge of the tiled counter, I gazed around the dimly lit room taking in my surroundings. I can guess that I’m standing in a kitchen. On the left side, a fridge, standing next to a desk. The fridge had to have at least 50 magnets on its glossy white coat. Magnets of Mt. Rainer, cats, cars, and other miscellaneous things crowded the surface. The desk, on the other hand, looked a little challenging cluttered with crumpled paper, pictures of some people, pens, pencils, and some half empty bottles of water. On the right side of the kitchen, I noticed the oven, sink, and dishwasher. Pots and pans littered the oven top, dirty dishes overflowed from the sink, and the dishwasher looked unused. Obviously, whoever lives here doesn’t like to do the dishes.
From the next room, I heard a muffled scream. Body becoming fully alert, I quickly raised my left hand which still had the gun in it. Quietly, I edged my way into the next room. What I saw next made my heart beat quicker. A girl was tied up to a chair perched by the fireplace. She was bound by the hands and feet as well as a piece of duct tape slapped across her mouth. I couldn’t understand what she was trying to say as she mumbled through the tape. Every second, she became more frantic, and before I knew what was going on, I felt something hit me in the back of the head. I fell down hard, and hit my mouth against the table. My mouth started to bleed as I noticed that I had knocked out a tooth.
When I looked up to see what had hit me, my heart began beating faster than a sprinting cheetah. Standing before me was a man who looked to be in his mid thirties. Blond hair came down to just above his piercing blue eyes which were staring right into mine. In his hands, the shiny barrel of the shotgun pointed right at my heart. The .45 caliber that was in my left hand would be no use now because as soon as I even lifted a finger, I would be shot….