Captive

“Ryan, please stop,” I whispered when I managed to pull away from his kiss. Ignoring me, he started unbuttoning my shirt.

“Hey, I said stop!” I said louder this time, and the shove he got made him realize that I meant it.

He sat up and ran his hand in his blond hair with frustration. “What is it, Mia? We’ve been dating for 8 months, will you ever trust me?”

Adjusting my shirt, I rested my head on the bedpost. “I’m sorry, but I’m not ready, Ryan. I don’t want to do it because we have to. You know I love you and I want to be with you, but only when it feels right, and it just doesn’t right now.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You’re gonna join the forces, aren’t you?” He held my hands and played with the bracelet he had just given me for my 22nd birthday. His green eyes searched mine waiting me out. I stuttered and there was my answer. I wasn’t sure I loved him enough to give up my dream.

“I’m… thinking about it,” I said while looking at our intertwined hands.

“I need to know, Mia. You can’t just leave me hanging like this.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted, you know that.”

Letting go of my hand, he said, “Following into Josh’s footsteps.”

“Ryan, you of all people should understand that.”

“It’s okay, Mia. I love you too much to be the person who stands in your way, even if it pains me,” he said with a sad smile. “But if you do get deployed overseas, don’t expect me to be sitting here and waiting for you when you get back.”

*****

The first time Sidney Crosby kissed me was rough and needy. His lips crushed mine in a bruising kiss that was anything but romantic. It didn’t take much for his tongue to start exploring and I gave him all the free passes he wanted. It was getting hotter and hotter with each nip and bite of his teeth. Sidney Crosby was neither gentle nor romantic and part of me liked it.

Our bodies started to relax from all the tension that we’ve been living with for the past eight days. However, a different, more dangerous tension was building up. I needed to regain my composure before we did something stupid that we cannot take back.

I shivered as his hands pushed my t-shirt and his fingers grazed my skin. I knew I had to stop things from escalating but I was enjoying him more than I would have liked to admit.

“Sidney,” I mumbled against his lips. My hands pushed gently against his chest but my weak effort did not stop his next assaults on my neck. “Stop,” I whispered. Instead of stopping, he moved his hips against mine and I had to bite my lips when I felt him.

“I believe you!” I squealed. That got his attention.

He stopped bruising my neck long enough to give me a questioning look.

“You’re not gay,” I said hurriedly, my chest heaving as I struggled to push him away.

Crosby gave me a death stare, clearly not appreciating my interruption. I gulped, my heart was racing; my whole body was still at his mercy.

“Sorry, I thought you wanted it too,” he said dejectedly.

“No, it’s…I … we cannot do this. I had to stop us from making a mistake. We’re stressed out and not thinking clearly,” I said as I watched him shuffle around and leave the bed. With his arms stretched to the sides of the window, he hung his head low and remained silent.

“Come on, you know I’m right.”

He clearly misread the situation. I did not want to stop either but I was not about to confess that to him. Standing at a safe distance, I stared into the night with him. He looked over his shoulders and whispered another apology.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him and inched closer, “You did not – and shall I say, cannot – force yourself on me. I won the fight, remember?”

He huffed then chuckled. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, a tough soldier like you cannot accept such a girly compliment.”

“I’m not 15,” I rolled my eyes.

“Thank God you’re not. It seems you were even crazier back then.”

When I glared at him, he lifted his hands up, “I’m sorry, please don’t kick my ass again, officer.”

This guy knew how to press my buttons and get me hot all at once. I shook my head and couldn’t hide my grin as we stared at one another in the soft moonlight.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Mia,” he said softly. “I’m sure you were as gorgeous at 15,” he added with his gaze never leaving mine.

His words were simple yet sweet that they stirred a lot of emotions inside of me. Guys have called me beautiful before, but it never sounded as genuine as when Sidney Crosby said it to me then, in a prison cell, in some mountain in Iraq, when we didn’t know whether we’d survive to see another day.

“I was out of line,” he said just above a whisper. “You may have a boyfriend for all I know.”

“I don’t. It’s um…it’s okay really,” I was having trouble finding my words.

He tilted my chin up with his fingers and leaned down to kiss me. This time, it was soft and innocent that I felt my knees get weak. I wrapped my arms around his neck and savored him. We stopped to breathe and he passed his hand tenderly through my tousled hair. “Told you I’m into women,” he smiled.

Then his smile was replaced with a frown. He put his forehead on mine and sighed, “Thank you,” he said to me.

I was puzzled. “For what?”

“You saved my life and kept me in check when I was freaking out. I never thanked you properly. No matter what happens tomorrow, you need to know that I owe you my life, never forget that.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at my bare feet. “You don’t owe me anything,” I whispered back.

“Hey, you’re one of the strongest people I have ever met, Mia. So please don’t do this,” he said as he wiped the single tear that betrayed me. I shook my head at his statement. I was not feeling strong enough to face whatever our abductors had in store for us. I was scared and ashamed about it.

“Come here,” he said softly as he hugged me to his chest and rubbed my back with his large hands. “Look, it’s been 8 days and what we know so far is that they provided medicine, kept us well-fed, well-clothed, except for the pants part obviously. But overall, they’re treating us well. We even have a shower. I don’t think they’re gonna torture us. These are all good signs.”

“Maybe,” I said against his shirt. I looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile. He was an attractive man, despite the stubble and the tired eyes. “You’re not as stupid as I thought you were,” I said and before he gets mad, I added quickly, “a good kisser too.”

I earned myself a few pecks and I could feel him smiling against my lips. Then our kiss got deeper and more passionate as we tumbled towards the only piece of furniture we had. Crosby once again covered my body with his, his mouth never leaving mine. I ran my fingers through his hair and he detached his lips from mine and buried his head in my neck. He was breathing heavily. “We should stop,” he said against my skin.

“Yeah,” was all I managed to say.

“It’s 2 in the morning,” he said as he focused on his watch all the while still pressing me into the mattress. My hands, with a mind of their own, cupped his cheeks and brought his face closer to mine once again. I was willing myself not to kiss him again, a task proven more difficult than climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.

To diffuse the situation, I pulled his head down against my chest and wrapped my arms around him. He was crushing me but I didn’t want him to move just yet. I shifted a little and settled in this position. He nuzzled my shirt as I ran my fingers over the nape of his neck. It has been a long time since I held someone this close to me. We both needed it. We have found a new distraction I guess.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “I’m heavy, let’s switch.”

He switched our positions, and my head rested on his chest this time. He covered us with the small blanket and hugged me tight against him. We stayed quiet for a while. My mind wandered to places it shouldn’t have, places where we were not prisoners. But I would never be in Sidney Crosby’s arms if we weren’t. I would still be a military nurse in Iraq, oceans and lands away from Sidney Crosby, the worshiped hockey superstar.

“What does it feel like, to be the best player in the world?”

“Apparently, I’m no longer the best, so I can’t really answer your question, officer,” Crosby said as he stroked my arm soothingly.

I snorted a laugh, “Oh please, it’ll be years before McDavid could take that title away from you.”

“So, you’re a fan?” he asked amused.

“I’m Nova Scotian, that’s all.”

“You are? Where from?”

“Halifax, born and raised,” I said proudly.

Crosby grinned at me, “I grew up 20 minutes away. Cole Harbour?”

“I know. Everyone knows where you grew up, Crosby,” I said shaking my head.

“You’re a Pens fan?” he asked, his eyes filled with expectations.

“Sorry to disappoint. Habs fan,” I said with a tight smile.

“I guess that would be okay,” he said, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Can’t hold that against you. I grew up as a Habs fan myself.”

I placed my chin on his chest and looked at his wistful expression. “What would be the first thing you do when we leave this place?” he asked without looking at me.

I appreciated the “when,” not the “if we ever” leave this place.

“Shower – a real warm shower, change into fitting clothes, and stay the hell away from any place you plan to visit.”

Crosby laughed, his chest moving under me. He had an amused look on his face.

“How about you?”

We continued to play the game of random questions, trying hard to distract ourselves from the anxiety and stress.

“Why choose? I say both chocolate glazed and old-fashioned,” Crosby took my timbits question very seriously.

“Our athlete extraordinaire has a sweet tooth, I see.”

Crosby grinned and leaned over me, “I like all sweet things,” he whispered before capturing his lips with mine in a sloppy kiss.

It was already dawn and we haven’t slept all night. We were both exhausted but enjoying each other’s company until the familiar sound of the outer prison door broke our kiss. As Crosby got off the bed, I moved slowly, not wanting to face what was coming. Our cell door opened and our loyal mailman came in with the usual.

“You, remove black thread,” he spoke. And as usual, I nodded and followed the orders. His wounds were cleaned, stitches were removed and a small bandage was placed to protect the scar. I gave him the last shot of antibiotics and told the mailman that I was done.

He collected the kit and did the usual inspection of my pockets. Then, a new development occurred.

“Go face the wall, hands behind your back,” the mailman ordered as he took out the gun from the usual spot on his waist. Crosby and I exchanged looks and I nodded for him to obey. As expected, he handcuffed us and from the corner of my eye, I saw him search through the small box he brought with him this morning.

“You, guy, sit on the bed,” he said to Crosby. It appeared that our mailman didn’t know who his captives were. I was still facing the wall, but I turned my head slightly to watch, worried when I saw that man holding a sharp item.

Crosby walked very slowly towards the bed, his eyes fixated on the blade. I realized that our cell door was not locked when a small person pushed it open.

“Zahra,” the mailman spoke to the little girl. I couldn’t understand what he was saying but I saw what “Zahra” was doing. The teenager was pointing a weapon at me, a loaded gun that was too big for her hands and too inpt for her innocent face.

“She small but good. No funny business,” the man said. “Sit,” he ordered Crosby more harshly when he was still standing near the bed. The man put his gun back at his waist, no need for it since he had another weapon in hand.

He had his back to me as he fiddled with something I couldn’t see. I looked at the little girl and I had a mix of emotions. I could probably take her down with my legs. But she seemed to know her way around a gun. Do I risk it? I wondered.

“What are you doing?” I heard Crosby say.

“No talking!” the mailman was getting impatient.

Then he stopped talking and I held my breath. I couldn’t see what was happening to Crosby, but if the man has slit his throat as I feared, I would have heard something.

A few moments later, the mailman comes near me and the little girl turns her gun towards Crosby who had something white on his face. Oh my god! That was a razor blade, the man was shaving Crosby’s beard and was cleaning the blade in the sink next to me.

I was shocked but relieved. He went back to his client and I heard the sound of scissors. Meanwhile, Zahra followed her orders. She looked me in the eye as I watched her. She did not even blink. She was a good soldier. There were no emotions on her pretty face; her hands were steady, and her posture was almost military. I bet she had a good aim, too.

“Wear these, be back in a half-hour” the mailman put a stack of clothes on the bed and freed the hands of a motionless Crosby. Next was my turn. He unlocked my handcuffs all the while pressing the gun to my head. He spoke to the girl and she retreated, never turning her back or her gun away from her target until they both left the cell.

I exhaled a sigh of relief, “are you okay?” Crosby did not answer.

I walked to him an inspected his face and hair. Was that hair gel?

“So, we have a barber service now?”

“I thought he was gonna…”Crosby swallowed and knitted his eyebrows.

“Yeah, me too,” I said as I sat next to him. I placed my hand on his cheek and stroked his silky skin with my thumb.

“He’ll be back in half an hour. He’s taking me somewhere, he said to wear these,” Crosby said with panic in his voice and my stomach churned.

“Do they want me to look nice in my coffin?” he asked, getting agitated.

My hand dropped from his cheek and I realized that I was trembling. I had no idea what their plan was, but Crosby was right about one thing. It seemed they were transporting him. Will they leave me alone in here?

“Get dressed,” I whispered. He looked at me with fear in his beautiful eyes, then fear turned into anger.

“It was just a little girl holding that gun, you could have done something!” he shouted standing up and pacing.

I was too choked up to answer him. My mind was playing all the possible horrifying scenarios that this new day may bring me, may bring us.

“Don’t try to tell me that you can’t take down a little girl? I thought you were trained in combat!” he continued to scream at me.

“So was she! She had a gun and that man had a blade to your fucking neck!” I yelled back.

It seems the half-hour was up or that our mailman was back earlier than he said. Our door cell opened for the second time that day – an unusual occurrence.

The mailman came in and with him the two men who transported us a few days ago. Thing One and Thing Two were wearing the same attire and the same passive expression. All three men had guns in their hands.

“Get dressed,” the mailman ordered Crosby who stood stock-still near the shower. “Move!” the mailman ordered harshly.

Crosby who was wearing the usual – tight t-shirt and briefs – moved slowly towards the bed and picked the string waist black shorts and the white polo. Our kidnappers seemed to have finally learned his size because the new clothes fit him to perfection.

“Shoes,” the mailman ordered impatiently while Thing One and Thing Two had their keen eyes on me. I remained seated on the bed, unsure what would be their orders for me. I hoped they wouldn’t ask me to change in front of them. That would be the least scary part though.

Crosby straightened up once he finished tying up the spotless white tennis shoes. The mailman motioned with his gun for him to go towards the door.

That was it. They were taking Crosby. Once he got to the door, he stopped and glanced at me, and I couldn’t help the sob that escaped. Thing One brought a dark blindfold to Crosby’s eyes and shoved him forward and out of the cell as Thing Two moved his gun away from me to follow behind Crosby.

The mailman looked briefly my way and then took his turn to leave me. I was left there alone, unsure what they will do with Crosby, unsure what will happen to me. I went to the window and scanned the outdoors for any activity, but the scenery was exactly the same. I did not hear any vehicle or any commotion. What was going on?

I haven’t slept for over a day and my muscles ached all the way from my neck to my toes. As I leaned on the steel door, I succumbed to my new destiny: rotting alone in prison, or getting tortured to death by terrorists. I broke down in tears; sob after sob racked my body. I cried until my throat was sore. I cried until my stomach hurt, until there were no more tears left to shed. I haven’t cried like this since Josh.

I may get a haircut before dying – that was my last thought before my body gave up and darkness took over.

Notes