Kidnapped: Difference between revisions

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Cindy was Linda’s older sister—a bachelorette who had never found a gentleman as perfect as Jason, but she had a passion for children and Linda displayed no difficulty in trusting her. Cindy was jubilant as she accepted the offer of being Bobby’s babysitter.
 
"…and here’s a list of emergency numbers," and Cindy identified a list of miscellaneous relatives pinned upon the refrigerator, "and the breast milk’s in the fridge; don’t forget to warm it up," and then Cindy was redirected upstairs, "and this is Bobby’s room—there’s some of his toys over there and his crib’s over there and—”and—" Linda was pointing in all directions of the nursery.
 
The nursery was painted yellow with large red polka dots—Jason had painted the room himself and was immensely satisfied with its result. A chest of stuffed animals resided in a corner and included plush and cuddly versions of animals including various characters from Sesame Street. But Bobby’s favorite was the original teddy bear—it lied motionless in the crib as if it was sleeping but possessed widened eyes of perfect glass spheres.
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Linda’s cellphone rang—it was Bobby’s babysitter.
 
"Hello?"
 
Oh my God!
 
"Is everything okay?" and then the panic began to erupt…"Cindy? Cindy!" but Linda could only hear her sister cry in pain, accompanied by a gurgling struggle and a splattering liquid…"Bobby!" and then the dial tone.
 
Jason and Linda’s anniversary celebration immediately seized with fear…regardless of their vehicle’s speedometer, their journey back home was long and everlasting as their thoughts were terrorized with agony of which is every parent’s nightmare…and finally, the house was reached and the front door was approached. Jason fumbled with his keys and Linda was biting her lip…and then the door opened.
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This required the authorities’ acknowledgement—the closest phone was within the deadened grasp of Cindy; it was covered in blood. Jason staggered across the kitchen and located an alternate phone of which remained hanging upon the wall. He dialed 911 and spoke to the operator with a trembling voice…Linda paid no attention to her husband’s side of the conversation—she remained standing within the blood and drained out the sound of reality as her vision could only focus on the absolute color of red.
 
And then Linda cried, "Bobby? Jesus, Bobby!" and her stiffened neck turned to face the staircase—each step resembled a waterfall of blood dripping from the upstairs damnation. Linda progressed upon each step with fear and caution with every movement and shift of balance creating a squish of the treads’ absorbed blood.
 
The handrail was untouched by Linda’s spasmodic hand—the beautifully carven railing of wood had also been dripping with blood…it flowed down the banister and clung in spirals upon the railing’s supports…the wall on the opposing side presented additional family portraits, all cracked and crooked and covered in blood.
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