I was taken hostage by a terrorist group.

I was taken hostage along with two other kids who I’d only met that day, and my best friend, Lexy. The kids who I really didn’t know were called Brandon and Simone. The terrorists though we were plotting against them, or something similar to that. Personally, I probably would have, but I was only 17 at the time!

But anyways. I was standing on the side of the road, minding my own business, when, out of nowhere, I was whacked on the back of the head with something hard and very possibly sharp. It knocked me out for a few good hours before I finally woke up.

When I did wake up, I didn’t know who I was, where I was, or why I was where I was. It took me only a few minutes to quiet the screaming sirens of pain in my head long enough to realize that I was Melody Johnson.

About fifteen seconds after I remembered who I was, the pain was back. Screeching, deafening roars of pure misery in my head, my arms, my legs, everywhere! I felt my face. There was dried blood on it. I felt my arms and legs. More blood. I didn’t open my eyes, mostly because I was afraid of what I would see. Finally, with much effort, I opened them.

I saw nothing. Literally. There was some kind of rag over my eyes. I grabbed at it and hurled it as far as I could. The events that had transpired earlier that day-or at least, I thought it was still that day-were coming back to me.

I inspected my surroundings. Nothing was familiar, although now that I was listening, I could tell that I was in a truck or a van. The three kids I had been with surrounded me, and a person with a ski mask on-I know, how cliché-was sitting beside us all, grumbling to themselves. I screamed, just to make them jump. It worked. They leaped up, their head hitting the top of the van, and screeched in fear before they realized it was me.

“I wouldn’t suggest doing that again,” the person growled in a deep voice, grabbing my arm forcefully. I smiled.

“Oh, I’m trembling!” I said sarcastically. Really, I was terrified, but I had to be brave. The guy grabbed my neck and squeezed with both hands. I could barely breathe.

“Say that again?” he questioned, smirking at me. He tightened his grip, and I struggled, grabbing at his hands.

“Morell! Stop it! The boss said to keep them alive and you know it!” A voice came from the front of the van

“I wasn’t going to kill her, just shake her up a bit!” Morell yelled back to the person, dropping me. He gave me a cold stare that told me it wasn’t over yet.

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t see her turning purple?” the voice retorted.

“Of course I saw! She hadn’t even passed out yet!”

“She shouldn’t have! What if you lost your temper like last time?”

Morrell immediately put his hands to his chest, and I wondered what had happened to him after he had lost his temper. “What happened?” Oh, no. That did not just come out of my mouth.

But it had. “None of your business, you nosy little…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but I was pretty sure that whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t nice.

“Sorry.” God, how weird was I? Here I was, apologizing not just to my kidnapper, but to a guy that had just tried to strangle me?

“Whatever.” He turned away, still clasping his hands in his lap demurely. The vehicle hit a large bump, and my head it the side. I screamed in pain. I heard a noise coming from Morrell, and it took me a few seconds before I realized it was a laugh.

“You know, that’s not very nice,” I told him sternly, forgetting who I was talking to for a brief moment.

He turned back towards me. “You know what? I like you, kid. You’ve got a lot in you. Don’t lose it.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I took it as advice anyways.

“Thanks.” I bit my lip, not sure whether to ask him something. “How old are you, anyways? You don’t sound that old, but you must be, because you can plainly see I am not a kid.” It was an honest question.

“Where you’re going, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. I’m 17, maybe 18 now, I can’t remember. My name’s Ricky Morrell. What could you do with the information, anyway? I’m not important enough to know anything.” He seemed to be trying more to convince himself than me.

“And you’re calling me a kid?” I sat up stubbornly. “For your information, I’m the same age as you! I’m Melody Johnson.” I stuck out my hand to shake in a polite greeting, completely unsuited for the situation. But, really, what did I care? From the way he was talking, it sounded like I was going to be dead by tomorrow anyway. “Where am I going? I’ve pretty much drawn the conclusion that you guys are the terrorists we’ve been hearing so much about lately, and that I’m headed for death or a fate worse than it, but I’d like to know what’s going to happen to me.” I meant for it to sound brave and careless, but it came out far closer to the way I felt, meek and afraid.


Ricky shook my hand. “I’ll tell you, but first I have to take off this mask. I know it’s against code, but it’s so HOT.”

He pulled off his mask, and I very nearly gasped. This guy WAS hot!

“We’re going to a place we like to call ‘Death Valley’. And once you’re there, you’ll wish you’d never been born.” He laughed humorlessly. “Anyways, it’s late, and you should probably sleep. You’re in for quite a day tomorrow.

And that was only my first DAY with the terrorists.