Keeping Isabelle

I remember looking at the clock a little while after Harry left. The small hand near the 11 and the big hand between the 6 and the 7. It's been two hours, according to the clock.

The cot wasn't comfortable anymore and I was scared to do anything else, but lay on it, just like Harry'd said. Tonight had scared me. It scared me a lot.

I was a key? What did that mean? Who was the man’s bosses? Why did I have to be kidnapped? Why couldn't I just live a normal life? Why was there so many question marks in my life?

A boom rang through the house. I took the blanket off my head so I could look at the big, metal door. I told myself it was Harry, but what if it wasn't?

It had to be Harry.

He said I could count on him.

I thought about meeting Harry upstairs, but I remembered he'd said not to unlock the door until I was sure I was safe. At this point, I didn't know.
I sighed, holding onto the blanket tighter, squeezing my eyes shut.

I could hear a muffled voice ringing through the house. Please, please be Harry.

Silly little girl, my conscience said to me. Why would Harry wait this long to come get you?

Tears started streaming down my cheeks. Why would he? I was going to die, some filthy man was going to come and get me. I put Harry in danger, this was my punishment.

I heard the door open, and I squinted my eyes even tighter.

“Get up.” I opened my eyes, confused by the feminine voice I’d heard. I saw a female, probably just a few years older than I, standing there before me.
She had a gun in her hand. Her long, brown hair tied in a ponytail and her bold hazel eyes gleaming.

“Get up,” she barked again. “Hurry, now!”

Notes