Chapter 212: Hotel Room: Hannah
It had been a long couple of days trapped in the hotel room.
While the room itself was comfortable, naturally I was going crazy being trapped. The worst part was not knowing who had kidnapped me. I had eaten a few of the mini-bagels with strawberries and oranges, but I was getting pretty tired of the selection.
I had always thought oatmeal was gross - a cross between gruel and slop that had never appealed to me. When we were little girls I could remember our mother serving it to Lori and me for breakfast. My brothers never seemed to have been there, probably following our father in whatever he was doing and drinking coffee from a young age.
I remembered Lori slurping it up, but me, I’d always try to get rid of it by "accidentally" spilling it or spooning some into the trash can when my mother wasn’t looking. I didn’t understand why my brothers weren’t subjected to eating such detestable food, and I resented it. Looking at the oatmeal packets on the counter brought back those memories.
With nothing much left to do in the empty room, I flicked on the TV. I had been pretty engrossed in a baking show marathon on and off while in captivity, and that day was the finals.
The best three contestants had to bake the ultimate wedding feast, including cake, a pastry dessert, cookies, and some kind of bread. When they were done, their spreads of goodies would look perfectly delicious.
As they got to work, I thought about all the hours I had spent in the kitchen with Lori, perfecting new recipes. I hoped we’d be able to bake together again.
Without access to the outside world, I had no idea what was going on. During the commercial, I sauntered over to the window and looked out. Cars drove along the street as if it were any normal day for them. I thought about how the world keeps going, but at any moment, several people could be in crisis.
There was no doubt in my mind that Roman and my family were looking for me. But would they find me in time before my kidnapper returned? And what exactly was the kidnapper planning to do with me?
Those thoughts twisted my stomach more than the thought of eating mushy oatmeal. I popped open a yogurt, one of the last ones, and began to stir, mixing in the gooey fruit bottom with the tart white creamy substance on top. Sitting on the bed, I returned to watching the show, occasionally spooning some of the yogurt concoction into my mouth.
I wasn’t really hungry, but I knew it was probably a good idea to keep up my strength. I had no idea what was going to happen, and I had to stay prepared.
All my life, I had had to be ready at the drop of a hat for whatever my father had in store. Being under his thumb, I would dress for parties or accompany him to a meeting without much warning. The night I ended up at the Auction House, I’d only had a short time to prepare, and obviously I had no idea what was going on until after I had arrived and seen other girls being sold onstage.
I shuddered at the memory, losing interest in the fun baking competition.
Instead, I thought of Roman and what he could be doing in that moment. I missed him. Being shut up in a hotel room wouldn’t be so bad if I had him beside me.
I closed my eyes and thought about his sexy smile and the way he ran his hand through his sandy hair. He had the most amazing body that sizzled and brought heat to my cheeks. He always looked handsome, even first thing in the morning. I didn’t even mind his morning breath, and I longed to give him a long, sensuous kiss.
Even though he was a businessman who worked on the computer all day, his hands were often calloused from his weight lifting workouts. I never minded feeling his rough skin stroke along my body. His movements were always so delicate.
I rolled over and hugged the pillow, wishing that someone would come for me soon. I couldn’t take the anticipation much longer.
Flicking off the TV, I then turned to look out the window again. Maybe I could make a big sign that read HELP and hold it up to the window.
With my new idea, I got to work, looking for what I could use to write with. I didn’t have any paper, but thought maybe I could use one of the sheets, which I ripped off of the other bed. Using one of the coffee stirrers, I poked a hole in the sheet then ripped it in half.
Having made the sheet big enough to read a message from afar but small enough to fit in the window, my canvas was ready.
Searching the drawers again, I couldn’t find anything to write with. I looked in the bathroom. Soap wouldn’t be bold enough, and body lotion would just soak into the sheet.
I thought about cutting myself and writing a message in blood, but decided that that would be my last resort.
Cracker crumbs would probably just fall off, and oatmeal wouldn’t create enough of a contrast. Looking in the refrigerator, I searched for anything that wasn’t white or beige.
Strawberries. Luckily, I hadn’t eaten all of them.
I pulled out the carton and looked at the already wilting berries. Squeezing one over the sheet, I attempted to drip the juice into the white sheet, doing my best to create letters.
It was more difficult than I anticipated, trying to extract every drop of juice from the strawberries. I managed to make the letter H and E, but I was running out of berries. I’d have to conserve.
I was halfway through writing the L when I heard a noise at the door.
It was the first time I had actually heard someone approaching the door, and when the beep and click of the door unlocking reached my ears, I was poised and ready.
The person came into the dark alcove of the hotel room doorway, and I pounced.
I didn’t wait to see who it was, I just wanted to attack. With my limited self-defense skills, I didn’t know the best method, but rushing at the person, trying to push my way out of the room, seemed like the best idea.
My force wasn’t quite enough, however, and the kidnapper grabbed me despite being pushed back. I pushed harder, trying to knock him over, and he wobbled, but stayed on his feet. He held onto me and forced us back into the room.
I lunged for the door and caught it just before it closed, holding it open while yelling at anyone who might be nearby. The kidnapper was able to pull me away in a second, and I couldn’t stop the door from slowly shutting. Scrambling forward, I scraped at the door with my nails before the man pulled me back again.
I was on my stomach, not even facing my attacker, just trying to get away, frustrated that I had been so close to freedom, seeing the hallway outside the hotel room, the red carpet with gold diamond shapes enticing me.
The kidnapper dragged me away, then picked me up at the waist in spite of my protests.
"You can’t do this!" I screamed. "What do you want from me, anyway? Help! Help! Someone’s kidnapped me!"
Silently, he carried me away from the door.
I could tell he was strong and also a good fighter the way he was able to subdue me without hurting me. What was weird was that there was something familiar about him in that moment.
I hadn’t been able to properly see his face. The entryway to the room was dark. I couldn’t place whether it was his smell, his touch, or something about his body that I remembered or experienced before.
Still, I was sure he was the one responsible for keeping me locked up, and in response, I started kicking wildly, using all my force. I was screaming as loud as I could, hoping someone would hear me or at least letting my kidnapper know I wasn’t going down easy.
He slammed the door shut, making sure it was latched and locked. My optimism sank at that moment, realizing I wouldn’t be getting out just yet.
He carried me inside the room to the bed with me frantically flailing my arms and legs, doing everything in my power to get away. In contrast to my aggressive, jerky movements, he calmly and gently placed me on the bed.
"F*ck. Calm down, Han," he said.
Immediately, I stopped.
Han? Had he said Han?
No one called me that - ever.
No one except Martin.