She Doesn't Love Me

A Story by ClaireThePoetWhoDoesn'tKnowIt

X is just trying to hitchhike his way home when he's kidnapped. What could this mysterious captor want with him?

He walks down the deserted road, desperately looking for a ride. Finally, a pick-up stops, and a young woman opens the door, “Hello,” she says, smiling with her eyes, “are you x?”

“Yes, I am,” he cautiously replies, wondering if running is a better option than hitchhiking.

“Good, your sister, Jenni, sent me.” He relaxes. Jenni always sent him rides.

“Thanks kindly, ma’am,” he smiles, hopping into the bright red vehicle. He slams the door, and she turns the keys.

“No, thank you,” she grins, putting a cloth over his mouth. He struggles, and eventually falls asleep. She laughs an evil, twisted laugh, and pulls into the abandoned building, hoping John brought the ropes this time.

❂ ❂ ❂

He slowly wakes up, looking around in a confused manner. “Hello,” she says stepping out of the shadows. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

“Wh-where am I? Why am I tied up?”

“You’re my prisoner, idiot,” she grabs a chair from behind a hidden desk, positioning herself so she can look in his eyes.

His fear shows through. She smiles, remembering the description of the boy, “short, blond, athletic build, blue eyes that are portals to his emotions.” As weird as that sounded at the time, she now knew why they put that. It’s his most distinguishing feature.

“What do you want?” His voice snaps her out of her dream world, “I’m not rich, if that’s why you’re kidnapping me. My parents can’t pay ransom.”

She smiles, leaning back in her chair, “My employers aren’t interested in you. They want the girl.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t have her name, only a bad description. ‘Tall, brown hair, hazel eyes, dimples, often wears fandom tees, often seen’ with you.”

“That’s not specific enough. I hang around lots of people who look like that. Those features are all common!’

“You want it more specific? Fine! Greasy hair, bad teeth, sarcastic beyond belief, single, two sisters, going into 8th grade at x School in x,x.”

“Still doesn’t help.”

“Damnit, I don’t have her name! That’s all I’ve got other than she’s a singer, rides a bus-”

“What bus?!”

“Bus 61, x District. Why?” His eyes widen in fear. He’d recognize that description anywhere.

“You want x!”

“Oh, that’s her name!”

“Why would your bosses capture me?”

“I-I mean they, have been following her on social media. She’s only posted about you for months.”

“She doesn’t love me,” a tear rolls down his left cheek. “She’s not that stupid.”

“Apparently, she is.”

“Why do your bosses want her?”

“Fine, their is no boss. I want x for myself. Because of what she did to me.”

“What she did to you? She’s so nice, you must be mistaken.”

“I’m not. I was a pretty teenager, a model, when she entered pre-school. My agent wanted me to volunteer to work with children, I couldn’t say no. So, I though pre-school children would be easiest to handle. I was wrong. Most students were kind, willing to learn, and adorable. She was an ugly ball of sass, and still is, mind you. She was arguing with me about an answer to another kids question, saying it wasn’t possible. I was walking away, I decided I didn’t need this publicity. She tripped me, and I flew into a toy drum set.” She turns her head, revealing a terrible scar. “Boom. No more modeling.”

Suddenly, a dart flies through the air, sticking her in the neck. She wheels around, stumbling. “Not… fair…” She trails off as the poison fills her veins.

“Hello?” He calls into the darkness, hoping it’s a rescue. The girl steps forward from the shadows, his best friend. He relaxes with relief. She drops the dart gun, running towards him. She envelops him in a bear hug. He can hear her begin to cry.

“Do you really think I don’t love you?” She releases him, holding his shoulders at arm's length. Her eyes are wet, glistening in the light.

“Can we not discuss this here? Please untie me.” She nods, moving around to the back of him. He stands up, rubbing his wrist. “Shall we?” He leads her outside, to, what he assumes, must be her car.

“I do,” she whispers.

“You what?”

“I love you, x.’

He smiles and turns to her, “I love you, too."