Divorced! Now what?
Chapter 129

Bethany

POV

Reading the journals almost made me cry; I had to pretend I was reading a book instead of something else rather than something Cynthia had written about her life. It answered so many questions about why Cynthia changed so much around that time. Mother blamed it on her becoming a woman, and I naturally assumed it was the monthly bleed. Reading this helped me understand that I was the one with a safe life, and Dad told me about Cynthia not being his child. If Cynthia knew this, then she would hate me even more because I had my father's love, and we were close and only got closer as I shared the love of sports with him and Thomas. Looking back, she was a sort of outcast, never wanting to join in, and often went on holidays with Mother when she never wanted either Thomas or I to join her on those trips. I was never jealous of this, as her holiday coincided with an important sports event. I think Mother had done this deliberately to stop Dad from going, too. Mind you, Dad rarely went on holiday trips. We had a holiday home we went to each year and spent a few weeks there, but that was the extent of any family holiday time.

Cynthia became increasingly obsessed with make-up and spa trips with our mother. I had thought they were close, like Dad and me, but I could not have been more wrong. Each trip was more like another dagger in Cynthia's heart as our mother pimped her out to her men friends. None of us knew anything about it. Cynthia became flamboyant and made out she was better than me. She flirted with all the boys at school, and I had heard she was good behind the stands if you wanted a good time. I am glad now that I never judged her or argued with her about how she treated me or how free she was with her body at school. I never thought much of that. I wanted the sister I had before she changed, and I hoped that she would one day find her way back. Now I see that she had no way to make it back.

I wondered why she did not approach Dad, but if this happened around our thirteenth birthday, Dad was away on a murder case and did not come home very much for about three months. I thought the chance to talk to him was gone when Dad came home at night or early in the morning. It seems that some sentences in this chapter require you to read the complete chapters on Job ni b.com in order to avoid an incomplete reading experience. Even on our sports days, he was not there, and only Thomas and I watched it alone, recording it for Dad to view later. Mother used to tell us to stay away from Dad and give him rest because he was on a big case, so we waited for Dad to come to us. Poor Cynthia had everything going against her.

Pam was taking me home. I looked around and wondered where Scott's men were, as I was sure they were told to be there. I was to have security until I was home or at work. I would like to know if that included the police station, too. Did they think I had enough protection because I was with the police?

We stopped outside my building, and I wished Pam goodnight. I did not wait for her to drive off, instead opting to go straight inside. I was both physically and mentally exhausted and needed sleep. But I did not get far; some hooded man was tackling the doorman, and I turned to see if Pam was still there, but her car had already taken off. I struggled with another masked man, kicking him in between the legs and making him fall in pain, but the one that had overpowered the doorman was at my back, trying to put his grubby hand over my mouth. Somehow, I pretended to drop to the floor, giving him all my weight unexpectedly, and he lost his grip on me from the sudden weight. But another man jumped out of a van and joined the fight, and the three managed to drag me to the door and get me in.

Inside was another man waiting, and he hit me in the face. My face bloomed with pain, and I lost my balance and fell the rest of the way into the van. The man inside grabbed my arms and dragged me in, and one of the others climbed behind me, pushing me aside like a rag doll. The third got into the passenger side, and the driver took off.

I had lost my bag in the struggle, which meant no phone. My necklace was broken when the guy tried to stranglehold me, so my Dad had no way to find me.

I hope the doorman is okay.

The van was the same style as the one from the accident. The men never removed their masks or talked, so I had no idea who they were. I asked no questions as I felt they would not answer them anyway. All I could do was wait. The van weaved in and out of traffic, and the driver, not caring about us in the back, was thrown about, or should I say I was thrown about. The other two were holding onto some railing, keeping them upright. I could not even sit up. Each time I tried, the vehicle swerved, and I was thrown off balance, so to reduce bruises, I remained lying on the floor and watched the two men. They never even glanced my way, so they had no worries about my attempting to leave the van or hurting them.

The van pulled into a warehouse, and the door was opened from the outside, making me realize that if I had tried, the door was locked, and I would not have been able to get out. The men jumped out, and one turned to grab my legs. I kicked one guy in the mouth as he tried to hold me, and soon, I had two men restraining me. I had my hands tied behind my back and a sack put over my head, making my fight over for now.

I was picked up and carried somewhere. It was not far from the van, and I was lowered. It was too far to be just to the floor. I dropped a fair distance. Strong hands caught me and put me in what felt like a wheelbarrow, and soon I was moving; the up and down movement made me think the guy pushing the barrow was running or jogging at least, so Dad must be on his way for them to be in such a hurry. I get the impression I am in a tunnel again. I am starting to hate tunnels. The smell in this one had an old sewer smell to it. It is a memorable fragrance I never thought I would have to smell again. The sounds of feet hitting water told me I was in the old underground sewer system, which was no longer used for that purpose. The men started to pant as they ran, so they were moving fairly quickly. This gave me hope that maybe Dad was closing in. We stopped, and I heard a metal scraping sound coming from above; they had a vent to go up in. Any old roadside drain could come into here, but I thought the tunnel had no access to go up. No ladders of any kind; that is what the old maps said in our school project when we used waterways in the major cities. Has the city made some changes over the years?

A harness of some kind was put around me rather roughly. The person pulled it tight, and I grunted at the tightness and was hoisted up in the air; as I left the ground, the feeling of nothing below me caused me to scream, and I started to rise, twirling in circles as I rose, making me feel nauseous. The spinning stopped when my foot hit something, and strong arms grabbed me, pulling me through a hole of some kind; more grunts from men, and I was moving again, but this time over a man's shoulder and the door of a van opened, and I was thrown in unceremoniously and landed with a grunt. We traveled for a while and turned to a gravel road, then when we stopped, I was grabbed again and carried into a shed. It smelt like hay and horses.

I was now in a chair. My ankles were tied, and my hands were released and then tied to the chair as well. Lastly, they removed the sack over my head, and I blinked a few times to get the dust out of my eyes and looked around. I was in a stable; two horses had their heads over the stable door, looking at us. I looked to my left, and the four men leaned against another stable wall. To my right was?

What? Why would that person kidnap me? I could not believe my eyes; that was the last person I expected to be standing before me with a gun in hand and a smirk on his face; it looked like they had just won a large prize. 'Surprise, Bethany, you have been a pain in my butt long enough.