The
Darkest
Winter
Ever
by C. J Clarke
"Thrilling, Enticing,- a Riveting Suspense"
Copyright © 2020 by C. J Clarke
PROLOGUE
Poppy’s ponytail bobbed faster as she sped up, clutching her backpack tighter to her chest. Cheerleading practice had run late, just a week away from nationals, and instead of waiting for her dad to pick her up she’d decided to walk the short distance home. Now, she desperately wished she would have just waited.
Darkness fell quick and heavy around her stretching the shadows from the tree lined street into looming figures lurching threateningly with every step. She took a hasty look behind her shoulder at a sound like the crackling of leaves in the late fall but nothing was there.
You’re just being paranoid, she told herself harshly, silently, focusing her wide, blue-eyed gaze back on the path in front of her. She grabbed her phone from the front pocket of her backpack, punching in her dad’s number with trembling hands before holding it to her ear. It was just her and him, like it had always been. Her mother had left when she was a baby, dying a few years later from a drug overdose. She knew her father hadn’t wanted her to find out but she had seen the file in his office. As a private investigator, it had been easy for him to track down her mom and find out what had happened to her. Reading it had made her sad, but in a remote sort of way. It seemed odd at first, but her mother was basically a complete stranger to her, there weren’t even any pictures of her around the small two-bedroom house they lived in.
The other line rang and rang and her heart sank as her father’s familiar voice told her to leave a message after the beep.
“Um, hi dad, it’s me,” She took a nervous look around, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, “I just wanted to call and talk. I’m on my way home right now, I didn’t want to bother you, I know you’ve been working late the past couple of nights so I just decided to walk home from school. I wish you would pick up the phone. I know I’m just being stupid but I’m getting creeped out walking by myself,” she forced a laugh, trying to make herself believe it as well, “anyways, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I hope you’re making spaghetti for dinner, you know that’s my fave–.”
“Well, well, well, what have we got here.” A deep, raspy voice interrupted her message and she whipped her head around as alarm crashed through her. She saw a figure standing there, more shadow than man and her feet froze on the pavement. She didn’t need to ask what they wanted, she could tell by the way her stomach clenched and her heartbeat raced that it was nothing good. Her father had taught her how to listen to her instincts, and right now, they were telling her to run.
She turned around as quickly as she could, pushing her feet to move faster but he was there, moving as if made of smoke and she couldn’t evade him. She switched directions, frantically searching for a way through. But he was there. Always there. Fear threatened to drown her, she could feel it at the edges of her vision like glistening black oil weighing her down.
“Just grab her, Jake, stop fucking around.” Another voice sounded from the shadows of a blacked out van that had been parked unmoving on the side of the street. She hadn’t even noticed it. The other man looked back and she took advantage of his moment of distraction, sprinting to put distance between them but she only made it a few paces before she felt the fingers clamp like vices on her arm.
“Stop it! Let me go!” She cried out as rough hands reached out, holding her in a bruising grip and dragging her towards the open side door. She kicked out her legs, struggling with her entire body to get free but no matter how much she twisted or turned the grip never loosened. It didn’t help that her captor was several feet taller than her and heavily muscled, while she just skated at five feet and a hundred and fifteen pounds. She was no match for the brute hauling her backwards but she had to try. She knew her life depended on it.
With a cry she threw herself into her attacker, aiming her elbow just below the belt, another tactic her father had taught her. Don’t try and fight nice, he’d said, fight like you mean it, fight like you want to win. She knew it landed on target from the pained grunt that sounded but he didn’t let her go, he didn’t even relax his grip an ounce.
“You’re gonna pay for that, you little bitch.” His voice growled low and mean and she shivered with terror. “Just wait till we get you to the house. You’re gonna pay for that real good–.”
“Shut the hell up, Jake. Get her in the van. Now!” The guy who held her, Jake, Picked her up as if she weighed nothing and threw her into the back of the vehicle roughly. She groaned at the impact as she slid against the bare metal floor but adrenaline had her leaping up, immediately dashing for freedom. The feel of a cold hand against her throat and even colder steel froze her movements. It was pressed so tightly to her skin she was afraid to even take a breath.
“Just stop right there.” The other man, the obvious leader who she just noticed was wearing a mask over his face, held a long, wicked looking blade in his hand and it was pointed straight at her.
“Please, just let me go.” She pleaded breathlessly, realizing that the only way she’d get out now was if she could talk her way out. “Anything you want, money, I can get you money. Just tell me what you want.”
“Well, aren’t you just a pretty little thing.” The rough voice from behind the mask said and if she hadn’t uttered a word. He slid the sharp point of the knife under her chin, forcing her face up towards the dim cabin light in the van. All she could see was the dark, beady, lifeless eyes behind the mask and they scared her more than anything else. She tried to remember everything her dad had ever taught her, everything she’d ever learned from watching horror movies. Except this wasn’t a movie. This wasn’t make believe. It was real and it was happening. Terror threatened to choke her but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to speak.
“Please, my name is Poppy Davis. I’m sixteen years old, I have a father that I love very much,” she had to stop as her breath hitched painfully. Make them see you as a person, her father had told her, make them empathize with you. “He loves me. He’s on his way to get me right now. Do you have a child? A daughter?”
A menacing chuckle was his reply as he leaned closer, his breath hot and fetid against her cheek as she tried to flinch away. “Do I look like the father type to you?”
Poppy didn’t have time to respond, to find any way that might help her escape before a heavy fabric bag was pulled forcibly over her head, the smell cloying and chemical. There was a revving sound as the engine choked to life and then her world went dark.
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