One

There was an unconscious girl slumped on the ground. She was propped against a pipe with her arms twisted and bound behind her. She was wearing her going-out clothes, but they were crumpled and spotted with blood. Her formerly perfect makeup was smudged. Her blonde hair limply framed her battered face. One eye was blackened and blood was crusted under her nose, but the featured attraction was the massive red lump on her forehead where she’d hit the pavement when she’d been attacked.

Her eyelids began to flutter and her head lolled to one side, and then back again. She opened and closed her mouth, running her tongue back and forth, trying to get the taste of death out. Finally, her eyes opened. Slowly at first. But then, once they focused, they shot open as her body tensed. Reasonably. Anyone in her surroundings would have the same reaction.

She was in an empty room. More like a warehouse, really. Concrete walls closed her into an area about the size of a large classroom. Rusty metal pipes, such as the one she was handcuffed to, shot from fixtures in the ceiling and raced along the walls to the floor. Directly across from her stood a single door, one of those sliding partitions that required a good deal of strength to push open. There was not a single opening or window for her to see whether it was day or night. She also couldn’t see that there was a video camera above and behind her head, positioned precisely to capture the entire room.

The pain dawned on her. First, the whimper as she felt her shoulders scream from the way they had been crudely jerked behind her. It felt like they were trying to rip themselves from her body. Any slight motion sent a jolt of pain through her. She could barely think from the pounding in her head. Being unconscious will do that to you, even if it wasn’t the result of a beating.

She started to panic. Chest heaving, her eyes frantically searched the room.

“Hello?” Her voice was raspy from lack of use. “Hello?!” She tried again, with little progress.

A deep rumble echoed through the room. It could have been thunder. Without thinking, she tried to scramble away from the noise. Her entire body protested.

But the sound wasn’t thunder. It was too close for thunder. And too high pitched. In fact, it almost sounded like rusted metal scraping against cement.

The door was opening.

A man stood in front of her. A ski mask covered his face, with only tiny holes for eyes and mouth. He was dressed entirely in black. From her place on the ground, he must have been ten feet tall.

The words were out of her mouth before she could comprehend them. “Please let me go you don’t have to--”

“Shut up,” he calmly interrupted. His voice was the exact kind of voice that could have belonged to anyone--neither high nor deep, no accent, no emotion.

She was shaking. Her feeble voice shook with her as she tried again. “We have money you just have to let me go I won’t tell anyone--”

“I told you to shut up!” he barked. But he was still calm, controlled. He took one step into the room, closer to her. She tried again to push herself away with no avail. “And do you really think I want money? You’re not that stupid, are you?” He paused, waiting for her to reply.

The pause grew and grew. She was the deer caught in headlights.

“Hm?” he said. “Are you stupid?”

“No,” she squeaked. She was trying not to cry and failing.

“What? Could you say that a little louder?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Silence fell once more. He took another step closer. She forced her eyes to the floor, doing anything to avoid his cold stare. He sighed and she flinched.

“Well, don’t you want to know what I want? It’s not money, that’s for sure.”

She bit her lips together and kept her eyes trained on the floor.

“Well, lucky for you, I’ll tell you.” Another step. Another pause. “I don’t want to kill you, Katie.”

Her head jerked up, her body electrified. “How do you know my--”

“No, no, no.” He shook a finger at her. He spoke as if she were a child. “You’ll find out in due time. Well, maybe you will. That’s the point of our little deal here. Would you like to hear about it?”

She collapsed again, shrinking back down against the pole.

“Hm. You have to know the rules if you want to live, you know. Please, tell me you want to live.”

She still refused to look at him.

“Don’t you want to live?”

The tears were flowing fast and hard now. You could see the inner argument waging in her head--Should she talk to him? Ignore him? If she spoke to him, would he kill her? If she ignored him, would he kill her?
No matter what she did, would he kill her?

As she realized the severity of her situation, her entire attitude changed. She blinked hard. She swallowed her tears. She straightened her back. Squeezing her eyes shut again, she took a deep breath. Slowly. Carefully. Letting the breath build up inside her, filling her with whatever remnant of dignity she had left. As she exhaled, her hardened eyes opened. She was no longer the pathetic girl on the floor. She was Katherine Hansel, and under no circumstances was Katherine Hansel pathetic.
Finally, she answered.

“Yes.”

And the man smiled.



He clapped his hands together and my facade was shattered. I flinched and drew back against the pole, my safety blanket. “Ah, yes. There we go. I was sincerely hoping you’d want to live. My brilliant plan wouldn’t work very well if not.


“Here’s how it’s going to work. In ten hours, this will all be over. I can promise you that much. Does that sound far enough to you? Just ten little hours. Tell me that’s fair.”

I nodded desperately and watched his feet as they began to pace back and forth in front of me.

“I knew it was. Okay, so. Ten hours, ten questions. At the top of every hour, I will ask you a single question. At the end of that hour, I will come back for my answer. It’s that simple. Any questions?” He laughed, but it was wrong. It was not a laugh of warmth but one of cold. “No, you don’t really get to ask questions. That’s my job.

“And, oh, I forgot the best part. I’ll be right back.”

His black shoes turned and left through the open door. The hallway outside looked the exact same as the room I was in. Nothing but rusted metal and concrete. I could hear nothing but the sound of my beating heart and my rapid-fire breaths, now having lost any illusion of calmness. I closed my eyes and tried to slow them, but there was no hope. At least if I concentrated on breathing I didn’t have to worry about the thousands of thoughts running through my head.

(this can’t be happening can’t be happening can’t be happening oh my god this can’t be happening)

(what does he mean questions questions questions)

(this has to be a dream a nightmare why can’t i wake up wake up wake up)

(where am i who is he what is going on this can’t be happening this is not happening)

I heard his footsteps returning, slower this time. And something else.

(no no no please dear god don’t make that what i think it is)

The man was back in front of me. But he wasn’t alone.

(dear god no)

He was dragging an unconscious man behind him.

“If you get the question wrong, he dies.”

My captor shoved the man against the wall opposite me. I didn’t recognize him. He was just another guy, the kind you see every day on the street. Middle aged, slightly overweight, stubble. The duct tape across his mouth and overwhelming amount of blood covering his face masked most of his facial features from me.

He clapped again, ripping my concentration from the beaten man in front of me. “So, what’s the question? Aren’t you so anxious to know? Oh man, this is so exciting.” Through the holes in the ski mask I could see him smiling. I wanted to puke. “The first one. Well, here we go. Ready?” He paused, waiting for me to respond again.

(what could he possibly ask me oh my god please just tell me)

Grinning like the madman that he probably was, he said, “The question is: What is your best friend’s birthday?”

My breath stopped for a moment. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it absolutely wasn’t that. He spun on his heel and exited, pulling the door closed behind him with a resounding rumble.

(he’s asking questions about my own life how would he possibly know who my best friend is what the hell kind of question is that)

(in through the nose)

(out through the mouth)

(just breathe)

(okay, come on, think about this. who is your best friend? andrea.)

(that must be it. i’ve known her for years, since middle school)

“Hey, do you wanna be partners? I don’t really know anyone in this class.”

“Yeah, me either.”


(think. breathe. her birthday. you know this. this is simple. you know this girl like the back of your hand.)

“What are we doing for your birthday this year?”

“It’s my sixteenth, what do you think we’re doing? My parents basically said I can have the lake house for the weekend.”

“No, they didn’t.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like they care.”

“If you say so.”

(it’s over the summer. not close to the beginning or the end of the school year. just one of those middle days. those days where you don’t look at the calendar and it could be a sunday or a thursday and you’d have no idea.)

(june or july. absolutely. but what day i have no idea oh my god oh my god)

(shh, shh, you know this. june or july. you could never tell those two apart. june first, then july. second month. july. yes, it’s july)

(july 5th. yes. remember? you’d go to the lake house every year for those two days--4th of july and her birthday. first few years, her parents would be there. but then she started to hate them and you found your group of friends and they replaced her parents. andrea’s favorite thing to do was lie to her parents and say it would just be the two of us. then everyone would show up and someone would bring a keg and she’d hook up with someone and not be able to remember the entire occasion)

I watched the unconscious man.

(july 5th)

(he’s going to live)

Was I actually smiling?

(you can do this. ten hours, ten questions. they’re all about your life, you can handle it. you know your life better than anyone, right?)

Just ten hours. Ten hours and I could save ten people. Then I’d be free. Then he has to let me go.

(that’s what he said, right? yeah, it has to be)

I had an entire hour left. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Trying my hardest to avoid moving my shoulders, I settled against the pole. There was no way I could be comfortable here, but I might as well try. I was so tired. I closed my eyes, but it wasn’t long before the sound of the door opening awoke me.

“Do you have an answer for me?” the man asked politely, leaning against the door nonchalantly.

I was no longer afraid of him. “Yes. Her birthday is July 5th.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

My world erupted with a flash of light and a bang. The unconscious man slumped to the floor, leaving only the splatter of blood on the wall where his head had been. The world moved in silent slow motion as the man dragged his dead body away, placing the gun back under the waist of his pants. When he returned, I couldn’t hear him over the sound of my screaming.
I could only read his lips as he smiled and said, “Wrong.”