All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Stormy Night
The rain howled, the car shuddered with terror and I had a strange feeling someone was watching, following, stalking me…
Rain sliced my windscreen as I tried to figure out which road I was on. The night was dark and the storm strong as I searched my map whilst trying to stay on the road. I saw the lights before I heard the whining siren of the blue and yellow vehicle. As it came closer I saw that the men were telling me to pull over. I stopped the car wondering what I had done wrong, hoping it wasn’t too serious; money was tight this month and I couldn’t afford to be fined.
The gangly men stepped out of their car, their uniforms kept dry by long, dark trench coats, which brought with them a sense of despair. I wound down the window letting in the freezing night air as well as the sharp droplets that had been pounding my door all night. They walked closer. Something was wrong.
They stopped in front of my worried face. Looking out I could see that one of the officers was holding something, probably just procedure, but it troubled me. The officer holding something bent down and smiled at me, I saw his hand move behind him but didn’t register what he was going to do. A sharp pain in the head; then I blacked out.
I woke lying on a metal bed. I looked around; I was in a small concrete room, at one end there was a door with a small barred window and a hatch for a tray of food. The other end was a toilet and a slit no man could fit through. I was in prison. It was cold and dark, no electricity or heating was in this building. My clothes had been taken and instead of jeans I was in an orange jumpsuit. Standing up I realised my shoes were gone and my toes were turning blue. I sat down again; with nowhere to go and no one to help I curled into a ball and hoped for the best.
I awoke again and heard somebody moving around. I crept to the door, not knowing why I was being secretive and called out. To my surprise the movement coming from outside stopped so I called again. I got a reply,
“Hello?” she stammered.
“Thank God there’s someone out there, do you know where we are?” croaked another female voice.
I couldn’t believe it. There were more people here, not just me. Then silence fell as a metal door slammed shut. I jumped back from my door hoping to blend in with the shadows. Metal screeching upon metal could be heard and I prayed for my life huddled against the far wall. A tray slid through the hatch and a male face peered in, the same one that got me earlier. His eyes were dark and his nose crooked. I could see in his eyes he was planning something. Once again I heard the door and shut crawled towards my tray of food, it was gruel, but I couldn’t help myself. I ate like an animal, ravenous with my first kill.
I opened my eyes. It was dark. I was lying on my metal bed in the same prison cell as before. What happened? I ached all over. I could feel welts on my legs and bruises on my arms. How long had I been out? I tried to stand hoping to find a glass of water somewhere. Again I heard movement next door and then someone called out;
“Is anyone there?” she asked. I waited. Realising no one else would reply, I responded in a croaky voice,
“I am.” I heard the relief in her voice as the next question came,
“Are you injured?”
“Yes, I’m bruised to the bone, I’ve just woken up from being knocked out, and I don’t know what happened…” I answered, whishing she had the solutions.
“So am I. I’ve been here for what feels like years. They’ve never let me out. After every meal I wake not knowing what has happened, feeling like I’ve just fallen off of a cliff.” Her voice sounded hollow, like she hadn’t known happiness. She continued,
“I was walking home one night when two police officers stopped me, told me I needed to go to the station, then they gagged me and tied my wrists. The next thing I know I’m stuck in here…. I have kids you know, who knows how they are…I …”
I heard sobbing, but couldn’t help myself tell her my story,
“I was trying to find my way home one stormy night, they told me to pull over then knocked me out and I woke up here…”
Then I realised. All the cogs fit; innocent women disappearing, nobody knowing how. These weren’t police officers; these were disgusting men who became part of the police force just so women would trust them. It became apparent then that I would never escape. These men were trained. I sunk to the floor and cried. There was nothing else I could do.
Later that evening I lay on my bed wondering why I deserved this when I heard footsteps in the courtyard. I peeked out and saw men huddled in the shadows, all dressed in black, carrying guns. Happiness filled me but I kept quiet, not wanting to blow their cover. I sat on my bed waiting for the commotion to start but all I heard was doors being slammed open and footsteps. I walked to my door and looked out just in time to see agents running down the corridor, all finding cells to open. Shrieks were loud and when an agent finally broke into my cell, I couldn’t help but laugh. He motioned me to follow him and I ran behind. Looking around I saw at least twenty fluorescent boiler suits all standing out against the black of the agents uniforms. I got to the courtyard and was hustled into the back of the van. I was free.
I thought freedom would be nice, and it was …for a while. They still haven’t caught the rogue police officers. Every second of every day I feel like I’m being watched, being followed, being stalked… They’re after me…help…