Paradise

Chapter 1



Life doesn't go exactly as planned...most of the time. For me, that was not an option. I, Kirsten Sail, planned everything down to the last detail and methodically.

I just never counted on being kidnapped.

I was careful- not getting into cars, even cabs, with unfamiliar people; walked side by side with my best friend, Sally Martins; bought only at reputable places; visited sights that were filled with tourists like ourselves; so on and so on. Europe was fun at first. I didn't notice anyone following us, though I did notice that people were taking note of Sally, so I watched her carefully so she wouldn't be hurt. I just wanted this trip to be amazing; that one cool thing that we got to do together before we went our separate ways for college- her to LA to be an actress and me to the local university for business.

We were in Greece, lounging around our little hotel room, waiting out the blistering heating of the afternoon. We had explored the little historic town we were in that morning and now we waited until night to explore the fun of the town. Sally was passed out on the bed while I was on the balcony enjoying a cigarette, watching people go by unobserved in the warm shadows.

The first thing that alerted me that something was out of place were four men stepping out of a nice jeep with dark tinted windows. Three of the four were carrying some nice weapons, hidden casually by their American knock-offs suit jackets. I grew up in a home where there was four boys and guns were as common as eating utensils. I knew all kinds of guns and how to use them well. i jerked up when they stopped in front of the hotel and began to talk to a small, scraggly street urchin that was sitting by the door; stubbing out my cigarette and racing inside the moment the urchin pointed to our balcony.

"Sally," I said, shaking her awake as I grabbed her wallet and our passports. I shouted. "Sally! Get up!"

"What?" she answered groggily, sitting up.

"Come on," I replied yanking her out of the bed and into the hallway, all the while looking over my shoulder for any signs of the four men. I took her to an empty room a few doors down and shoved her into a closet. "Sally..."

"What's going on?" she replied, her voice shaking, now wide awake. "Kirsten..."

"Shh. Listen to me. Stay here and do not move. I want you to count to one hundred, slowly. When you get to a hundred, start over. When you finish, you can leave this closet. Go out and stay out in public until after dark. Then do you come back, get your things and leave."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. Leave here without me."

"To where?"

"Home. Don't move until you reach the second one hundred, no matter what you hear. Understand? Understand?!"

"Yes, yes. Kirsten..."

"Shh. Stay," I said shoving her and her purse farther into the closet and closing the doors. "Shit. Phone."

I raced back to our room for our phones, shutting the door just as the owner, prompted by guns, brought the four men to the top of the stairs. I had seconds, moments to duck into a small alcove space by the balcony doors when the doors opened and the owner and the men walked inside. I watched them tear apart the room, shouting at the owner in rapid fire Greek. I held my hands over my mouth too keep from making too much noise.

"Where is she?" demanded one, poking the owner with the Beretta in his hand. I held my breath when one passed right by me and out onto the balcony. I prayed that if they did find me, the would let me go or something that left me whole and intact and safe. I was pretty or cute at best, but nothing close to Sally. My most glaring flaw is an odd shaped scar on the right side of my face that I got from being pushed off the back porch by one of my brothers (the second one being the fact that I'm not exactly skinny by world's standards).

I flinched when the Beretta barked and the owner dropped heavily to the ground, barely holding back a scream. It's very different watching a human being killed rather than an animal.

"They were here. Or at least one was," said the one coming in from the balcony, stopping only a few feet away from me. "The cigarette ash is still warm."

"Let's go," said the leader. The man inches away turned and looked straight at me. I held my breath, hoping to God that he just thought that I was a decoration of the room, but I know that he had seen me and I was truly caught when he started laughing.

"Tricky girl," he said in English, yanking me from my hiding spot and into the room.

"Not her. She's the ugly one," said the leader, waving his Beretta in his hand at my face.

"Where's your friend? The pretty one," said the man holding me, shaking me a little in his bruising grip.

"Gone. She left today. Gone home. It's just me," I lied, struggling a bit against his grip. The man translated my words, adding more at the end.

"...Let's take her anyway. Something better than nothing for his little collection. Probably a virgin, this one."

I understood about four words out of the whole conversation, as I know only French well.

"Come on," said the leader, leaving with a scowl, his Beretta still in his hand. The man holding me dragged me after him, following the leader. The rest following him. We barely reached the front door when I realized what was happening. That's when I started to claw and fight for my freedom.

"Stop fighting."

"Get her under control," snapped the leader, annoyed that he wasn't getting what he wanted.

"I'm trying."

"No," I screamed, wanting to get free. I saw the Beretta seconds before the barrel bottom connected solidly to my temple and all I saw then was darkness.