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Fear. I was over taken by it as I walked into the lobby of the Peninsula hotel. I couldn't stop shaking, and could barely get a deep enough breath. I tried not to show how terrified I was, and hoped to keep it that way.
My task was to remain calm, and act as though the man whom I was here with was my Father.
He was a tall and slender man, with a clean shaven face, and glowing green eyes. His hair lay like a dirty mop on his head, the occasional streaks of natural blonde hair, poking through the brown hair of his wig.
I was suddenly overcome with the horrible sensation of having to use the bathroom. Ugh, and at the worst time possible! I thought.
Now, it may sound as though I were on some sort of Mission Impossible team. Preparing to stop some sort of large terrorist attack on this five star hotel. In truth, it was the exact opposite.
The day before, I had been abducted by a group of six men, in the middle of the night.
I had been at our vacation house in Thailand, lying in my sleep number bed, reading the book, Snakehead. My room was facing towards the ocean, and I could feel the sea breeze on my face, blowing in through my open window. It was the only air conditioning in our whole house (we are a very 'green family')!
I heard a horrible crash come from behind me, and I rolled onto the other side of my back, to see what all of the ruckus was about. I had opened my mouth to start to scream, and instead felt a rag being thrust into my mouth and down my throat. I stood up, trying to fight my attackers. It was useless. They had already bound my hands behind my back by the time I had even stood up.
I was then roughly shoved back down onto the bed, and found my legs bound together also. Again, I tried to scream, and choked on the rag.
I was brought outside and thrown onto the floor of a boat that had been parked in the bay, right near our house.
I had lain there, stuck with terror, staring at my assailants. I counted six figures moving around the boat, all burly in shape. I couldn't see any of their faces, for it was too dark outside. Pretty soon, I felt the boat jerk forward, and I knew that we were on our way.
Quickly, I fell asleep, waking up around every five minutes. Finally, I fell into a deep sleep. When I had awakened, we had docked at the harbor right behind the Peninsula hotel.
That was how I had ended up here, in the control of this awful man.
My 'Father' and I continued walking through the lobby and over towards the main desk. I did a full 360 with my head, getting a grip on my surroundings. To my left I saw two of the men that had captured me the night before. To my right, were two more. Straight ahead, was another, dressed as a bell-hop who worked here at the hotel. They were staring intently at me, and I could tell by their demeanor, that all they desired, was to kill. Just like hound dogs, which have caught the scent of an injured bird. All they want is to go after it, and take advantage of its weakness.
I had been instructed to play along with the role of Father and daughter, and if I didn't, I would be shot. Sure enough, when I glanced behind me at my pretend Father, he opened his jacket just wide enough for me to see into, and I saw a hand gun with a silencer attached to it.
He couldn't shoot me, I thought with a little smirk. There's no way, with all of these people around, someone would notice. I knew that what I was saying to myself was a lie, though. He could easily shoot me without anyone hearing, and by the time someone did realize that I was hurt, it would already be too late. I would have lost most of my blood, and all of my kidnappers would have been long gone.
'Hello, Madame!' My 'Father' announced gaily, speaking in perfect English.
'Why hello, Sir Benningfield!' The concierge greeted my capturer warmly. 'Rooms 102 and 103 are all ready for you. You may head up now. Are there any bags that you would like for me to carry?'
'Oh, that would not be necessary.' My 'Papa' replied. 'Goodbye.'
My 'Father' then motioned to the rest of his buddies, giving them the okay symbol, and I watched them all head for the stairs.
We ourselves headed on our way toward the elevators, and I knew that I had to make my move before we got into the elevators. If I didn't, I had almost no chance of survival.
Before we had gotten off of the boat, my assailants forced me to send a video message to my real Dad, stating that if he did not drop off eight million dollars by later this afternoon, he could kiss me goodbye. I tried my hardest to stay strong, and not cry, but I accidentally leaked a few tears when one of the men lifted me off of my chair that was in front of the camera by my hair. He had then thrown me on the ground, and punched me a few times in my face and in my stomach.
It was already almost three o'clock, and if they took me to their room to hold me there for awhile, I may not even be alive by the time the money from my actual Dad finally arrived.
A little farther along the wall was a small fire alarm box, and I continued walking towards it. Once we had reached it, I stooped down to tie my shoes. Very subtly, I reached inside my right tennis shoe and activated the tracking device that my Dad had placed inside all of my shoes. It could pin-point wherever I was, anywhere on the Earth.
Next, I stood straight up, facing away from my fake Father. I slowly started to walk towards the elevators once more, when I shot my leg up and around, landing a roundhouse kick on my false Father dead in the chest. I heard the breath leave him, and saw him jolt backwards. He had been caught by surprise, which I could use for my advantage. I lunged toward him, throwing my right fist into his face, and then my left elbow. He cried out in pain, and then took aim with his gun at my forehead. Instinctively, I ducked, and only a second later, did I hear the gun fire. I was now squatting on the floor, and I thrust out my right leg, and did a coffee-grinder motion with my legs, crashing them into the man's ankles. He fell to the ground, and I grabbed his left hand, twisting it to the right, making the gun come loose from his hands with a horrible 'cracking' noise, as his trigger finger and hand broke. I pointed it straight at him, and ordered him not to move. I reached over with my other hand and yanked on the fire alarm bell, which would send the cops here, along with the firemen.
Quickly, I turned my head back around to face my kidnapper, and I carefully took aim with the gun. I aimed for his left leg, for he seemed to be left handed, so he was probably left legged. BAM! The man screamed out and cried in agony.
There, now he couldn't follow me out. I ran outside with the rest of the crowds of people who had heard the alarm sound. I searched through the crowd for any signs of police men or security guards. When, surprisingly, I saw my Dad. My real Dad! I ran towards him, and he ran towards me, and we embraced each other tightly. I cried and cried, quietly on his shoulder, as he did mine.
Right then and there, I knew that everything was going to be alright.
A few months later, all of my kidnappers were arrested and I testified at their trials. All of them were sentenced to life in prison, except one, who had actually pled guilty, ending up with twenty years.
But as you know, life's not life, and twenty years isn't twenty years...law enforcement is pretty tricky.