The memories of the past

RYAN

The ticking of the large clock on the wall was the only sound in the nearly empty school hallway. I glanced at my wristwatch again. Mom should have been here by now. Everyone else had already left—the laughter and chatter of students fading into silence hours ago.

I let out a frustrated sigh, sinking back onto the hard bench by the school entrance. She probably got held up at work. 

“Ryan…”

No no

The voice. That voice.

It froze me in place, icy fingers of dread crawling up my spine. No. It couldn’t be.

I turned my head slowly, unwilling to believe what my gut already knew. Standing there, in the doorway, was the last person I ever wanted to see. My greatest nightmare, the ghost I thought I’d escaped—Ms. Margaret.

My breath hitched, my body going rigid as fear surged through me. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d left. She was gone. She was supposed to be gone forever.

Her lips curved into that familiar, chilling smile. “Hello, Ryan.”

“No,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “You… you left. You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t work for us anymore.”

Ignoring my words, she took a step closer, the sickly sweet scent of her perfume hitting me like a punch to the stomach. My throat tightened, bile rising as the memories came flooding back—memories I’d buried deep, memories I never wanted to face again.

“Your mom asked me to pick you up,” she said smoothly, her voice laced with feigned kindness. Her hand reached out, and I instinctively stepped back, but the wall behind me cut off my escape.

“No!” I spat. “You’re lying. Mom would never—”

“Don’t make this difficult, Ryan,” she interrupted, her grip tightening around my shoulder. I flinched, but her hold was unrelenting. Her smile widened, and it wasn’t comforting—it was the smile of a predator cornering its prey.

“Let go of me!” I shouted, desperation creeping into my voice. My eyes darted around the empty hallway, searching for anyone—anyone—who could help.

Her expression darkened, her grip turning painful. “And don’t you even think about screaming,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Remember what I said I’d do to your mom and dad if you don't listen? Do you want to be responsible for what happens to them?”

Her words were a dagger to my chest. The weight of her threat crushed me, rendering me powerless. Tears welled in my eyes as I shook my head, my voice trembling as I begged, “Don’t hurt them, please. Don’t hurt them.”

“Good boy,” she cooed, her tone dripping with mockery. “Then you’ll come with me. No fuss, no drama.”

I obeyed, my body moving like it wasn’t my own. My legs felt weak as I walked beside her, her hand pressing firmly on my shoulder.

The car was parked just outside the school gate. I froze when I saw it, a sleek, unfamiliar black sedan. There was a man in the driver’s seat, his face obscured by the shadows. My heart hammered in my chest as Ms. Margaret nudged me forward.

“Get in,” she commanded.

I hesitated, my body trembling.

Her nails dug into my arm. “Get. In.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I climbed into the back seat, my small frame dwarfed by the leather interior. The man in the driver’s seat didn’t look at me. He started the engine, and the car pulled away from the curb, the school disappearing behind us.

I didn’t know where we were going, and I didn’t dare ask. I sat there in silence, my hands clenched tightly in my lap, my tears falling quietly onto my jeans.

Fear consumed me, but I kept my mouth shut. Because I knew if I didn’t, she’d make good on her threat. She’d hurt my parents. And I couldn’t let that happen.

****

When I woke up, everything was dark. My head throbbed like I’d been hit with a brick, and my arms felt like dead weight. Blinking, I tried to clear the haze in my vision, but the world remained blurry. I shifted slightly, and that’s when the panic set in.

I couldn’t move my arms.

My legs were bound too, ankles tied together so tightly that I could feel the rough material of the rope cutting into my skin. My mouth—it was taped shut, the sticky adhesive pulling painfully at my skin every time I tried to open it.

I thrashed against the restraints, my breaths coming fast and shallow as I fought the rising wave of fear. My heart pounded wildly, the sound of it loud in my ears. Where was I? How did I get here?

And then it hit me.

Ms. Margaret.

The school. The car.

How could I have slept off?

My stomach twisted violently as I glanced around, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The room was small and windowless, the air thick and stale. 

The faint hum of voices reached my ears—muffled, distant. My captors were nearby.

Stay calm, Ryan. Think.

I strained against the ropes, wincing as they bit into my wrists. My arms ached from being pulled behind my back for so long. The duct tape over my mouth muffled my breathing, making each inhale feel like a struggle.

The voices grew louder, and the door creaked open. My head snapped toward the sound, adrenaline surging through me.

Ms. Margaret walked in, her heels clicking against the floor. She was holding a tray, a sinister smile plastered across her face.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she said, setting the tray down on the table. Her voice was almost cheerful, but the glint in her eyes made my blood run cold.

I glared at her, my chest rising and falling rapidly. She crouched down to my level, tilting her head as if studying me.

“You’ve always been such a stubborn boy,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I flinched, pulling away from her touch. “But don’t worry. We’ll fix that.”

I screamed against the tape, the sound muffled. She only laughed, straightening up and walking over to the table.

“You’ll behave,” she said, her back to me as she picked up something shiny—a knife. My stomach dropped. “Or else… well, let’s just say your parents wouldn’t want to see what happens next.”

She placed the knife back on the table and turned back to me.

"You must be hungry," she said. "It’s been hours since I picked you up. You need to eat something, Ryan. We can’t have you getting too weak."

She reached for the tray she’d brought in, revealing a plate with a sandwich and a glass of water. My stomach growled involuntarily, but I clenched my jaw, glaring at her as fiercely as I could with tape over my mouth.

"Don’t be difficult," she chided, setting the tray down on the chair in front of me. "I’m trying to be nice here. But you always did like to make things harder than they need to be."

I shook my head violently, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me comply.

Her smile faltered, replaced by a cold glint in her gaze. She stepped closer, leaning in until her face was inches from mine. 

"Fine," she straightened up with a shrug. "Starve if you want. It doesn’t matter to me. But don’t say I didn’t offer."

She picked up the tray and walked back to the table, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. Setting it down, she turned to face me again, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You know, Ryan," she began.  "You should really save your energy for praying."

I frowned, confused, but her next words sent a chill down my spine.

"Praying that your parents love you as much as you think they do," she continued, her lips curling into a smirk. "Because if they don’t bring the money, well…" She let the implication hang in the air, her eyes gleaming with malice.

My blood ran cold.

"Yes," she said, her voice mockingly sweet, "just pray they care enough to save you. Otherwise…" She gestured casually toward the knife on the table.

Her smirk widened as she saw the flicker of panic in my eyes. "I wouldn’t worry too much, though. After all, they should love you. Right?" She paused. “Talking about love…”

She walked back to me, slowly circling the chair I was bound to. Her eyes roamed over me with a disturbing intensity, and the smirk on her face deepened.

"You know, Ryan," she purred, leaning down until her face was close to mine. " I left for just a year and you’ve grown."

Her fingers trailed across my arm, and I jerked away instinctively, my muscles straining against the ropes. My muffled protests through the tape only seemed to amuse her.

"Don’t be shy," she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "We’ve always had a… special connection, haven’t we?"

She moved closer, her hand brushing against my cheek. My stomach churned in revulsion, and I twisted my head to the side, desperate to escape her touch.

Before she could say anything else, a deep, commanding voice cut through the air.

"Margaret."

She froze, her head snapping up toward the doorway. Standing there was the man in the mask.

"Come here. Now," he said, his tone cold and unyielding.

Margaret straightened, her smirk faltering for a moment before she masked it with a scowl.

"I was just—"

"Now," the masked man repeated, his voice sharper this time.

Margaret huffed but obeyed, shooting me a look that made my skin crawl before she strode toward the man. 

My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me as I tried to process what had just happened. Despite the terror gripping me, there was a flicker of relief that she was gone, even if only for a moment.