Silent Night

Silent Night

Emma awoke with a start, hot and in the dark. Her mouth is dry, and there’s an ache in her neck. Her heart is racing. She tries to sit up, but something moves with her, blocking her. It feels like plastic and makes a crinkling sound when she stretches her arms out. She tries to find a way to escape whatever has her trapped, but she can’t find an opening. Underneath her, the surface is flat and hard. There’s a gentle hum and swaying, like riding in car. Her brain is foggy. She strains her memory trying to recall what happened.

Suddenly, there’s a hard thump. Her body flies into the air, and she lands hard on her left arm. She cries out involuntarily from the shock and pain. Frustrated and afraid, she starts to cry. The reality of her situation begins to sink in. She’s alone, trapped, and lost. All of a sudden, the gentle vibrations beneath her come to a stop. She hears what sounds like a car door closing and a trunk opening. Someone jerks the plastic holding her, and suddenly, she’s suspended in the air.

Her body sways, thumping into something hard. A few minutes later, she hits the ground. She hears footsteps moving around her. All of a sudden, there’s a ripping sound and a dull light shines through a hole above her head.

Standing above her is a tall, slender man wearing jeans, a red plaid button-down shirt, and a black ski mask. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, even though they are indoors. He yanks the plastic off her, and in the dim light, she now sees it’s a black trash bag. He grabs her arms and ties them behind her back with a zip tie. She let out an accidental yelp when he touched the left one. He doesn’t flinch.

She doesn’t recognize the room they’re in. A floor-length lamp stands in the corner, and a chocolate-colored leather couch is against a beige wall. The hardwood floor beneath her is cold on her legs. There are three windows along the walls, and the space outside is thick with pine trees. Rain streaks the glass. He moves toward a fireplace in the center of the room and starts piling logs inside. A blaze ignites, and he pulls the ski mask from his head and sets the sunglasses on a mantle. He’s careful to keep his back to her.

Where was she, and why did he bring her here? She has so many questions for him, but she is having a hard time summoning the courage to ask. She hasn’t even heard his voice yet. As if he read her mind, he speaks.

“Is your arm alright? It looks swollen?” he asks.

She tries to remember if she’s heard his voice before, but she doesn’t recognize it.

“I don’t know, I haven’t tried to move it much,” she says, her voice shaking. She clears her throat, trying to hide the fear. “Have we met before?” she asks him.

He doesn’t answer her. Instead, he turns and walks away. She can hear him digging in a drawer in another room. She wonders what he’s looking for. He slams the drawer shut and walks back toward her. He stops at the doorway, turns the TV on, and disappears into the distance again. The news is playing. She doesn’t like to watch the news, but she can’t seem to look anywhere else. At the bottom of the screen is a square that states the date, time, and temperature. Monday, December 26th. 1:05 A.M. 30 degrees Fahrenheit. So yesterday was Christmas. She tries to think back over the past few days.

Friday was her last day of school before Christmas break. She could barely contain her excitement about being home for a few weeks. The teachers let them watch movies instead of their usual lessons that day. In her class, they watched The Grinch. Her friend Bella didn’t sit with her for the movie like she normally does. Emma was worried that she was mad at her. Bella had been acting strange since she made a friend in the fifth grade. Emma preferred to hang out with the other fourth graders; the older kids seemed mean.

When class let out, her mom was waiting for her in a dark gray SUV. Her mom works for a lawyer in town, and she was still in her work clothes. She had been working there since before Emma was born, and sometimes, when she has to stay late, she doesn’t change before picking her up. They talked about her day at school while Silver Bells was playing on the radio. Her mom told her that she would be taking her to a Christmas party at her work tomorrow.

That night, her dad brought home pizza, and they all ate together at the table. He looked more tired than usual. He said that things hadn’t gone well at work, something about a deal that fell through. It reminded her of her day with Bella. When he saw that she wasn’t eating her food, he changed the subject, and they talked about Santa Claus instead. She couldn’t believe that Christmas was only two days away.

After dinner, her parents tucked her into bed. Her dad squished the blankets tight around her, and her mom kissed her on the forehead. Her bed was soft and warm. She wishes she were there now.

The next day, when Emma woke up, her dad was leaving for work. He gave her a big hug and told her to be good at the party. She promised him she would. Then she raced toward the kitchen. Her mom was there, putting away the dishes. She’d made breakfast: eggs, pancakes, and bacon. Emma’s favorite. She ate all of it. Afterwards, she went upstairs to play with her dolls. Bella told her they were too old to play with dolls, but she didn’t care.

A few hours later, her mom told her it was time to get ready for the party. Emma picked out her favorite red dress, a pair of leggings, and black boots. She brushed her long blonde hair, then her mom braided it and put a Christmas tree headband in it.

Her mom wore an emerald green dress that went down to her knees. She had on a pair of silver high-heeled shoes. Her dark hair was loose down her back, the front grazing her shoulders. She had on red lipstick that made her skin glow. Emma hoped that she’d be as beautiful as her one day.

When they got into the car, her mom let her sit in the front. She also let Emma pick the music, and they sang along to Christmas carols. A soft heat blew through the vents. Even though it was only five thirty, it was dark, and the houses were decorated with colorful lights. Their drive was cheerful and cozy.

When they pulled up to the building where her mom worked, Emma could see a Christmas tree decorated with soft white lights in the window. People were standing beside it, glasses in hand, talking. She strained to see if there were any children, but all she saw were adults.

Inside, holiday music was played on a piano. The furniture was decorated with poinsettias and holly. Garland hung around the ceiling. In the corner, there was the gorgeous Christmas tree. The ornaments were red and gold, sparkling around the white lights. Presents were underneath it, but Emma didn’t think they had anything in them. Her mom said people do that for decoration, but Emma thought that was strange.

On the other side of the room, she saw Santa Claus sitting on a chair. He had white hair, a matching beard, and a big, round belly. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glistened. She knew he probably wasn’t the real Santa, but she wanted to tell him her last-minute wishes, just in case. She pulled on her mom’s dress and asked her to take her over there. She told her that she’d have to wait until she was done greeting everyone.

Her mom walked around the party and spoke to everybody. They laughed at jokes Emma didn’t understand and talked about people she’d never heard of before. It was torture. The whole time, she could see Santa in the corner of her eye.

Finally, her mom agreed to take her to meet him. She was nervous at first. She only sees him once a year and doesn’t know him very well. She is shy around people she doesn’t know, especially adults. He smiled when he saw them approaching, and she felt a little better.

Emma climbed onto his lap and looked at him. His face was more flushed up close, and his eyes were dark brown, almost black. There was a strange, sour smell on his breath. It reminded her of the times she woke up in the middle of the night and went into her dad’s office to watch him work. Sometimes, he’d smell the same way.

Santa studied her as well and told her that her dress was pretty. He also told her that he liked her boots and hairbow. She didn’t bother correcting him about the headband. She didn’t want to be rude and disappoint him, especially this close to Christmas.

Once she’d told him what she wanted and someone snapped a picture, she ran back to her mom. As she did, she bumped into a man wearing a dark gray suit. He looked down at her with bright blue eyes. He seemed annoyed, but when her mom came over and apologized, he rubbed the top of her head and said that it was alright.

They stayed at the party until after ten o’clock. Emma couldn’t believe her mom made her stay out so late. Her bedtime was at eight thirty, and she wanted to go to bed so that she could wake up one day closer to Christmas. Her mom walked around for what seemed like hours, saying her goodbyes. When they finally left, her mom strapped her into the car, and Emma fell asleep before they got home.

The next day was Christmas Eve, and Emma woke up early, before the sun had risen. She found her parents in the kitchen, cooking. She asked if she could help, and they put her to work peeling potatoes. After her mom put the ham in the oven, they made chocolate chip cookies to leave out for Santa. Then, Emma went to watch holiday movies in the living room while her parents finished preparing dinner.

It was dark that night before they ate. There was ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, cranberry sauce, and dressing. Her parents drank white wine, while Emma had sparkling grape juice. They told her stories about what Christmas was like when they were growing up, and Emma told them all the things she hoped Santa would bring. Once they’d finished, they cleaned up the dishes, laid the cookies out for Santa, and headed to bed. Her dad read her the story about the Polar Express, and her mom dimmed the lights. It was the perfect ending to a peaceful Christmas Eve.

Yesterday was Christmas. Emma woke up before six and raced to her parents’ bedroom to wake them. They were difficult to rouse, but she was persistent. Eventually, they gave in, and they all headed downstairs. Under the tree was a new pile of presents. She opened them in her pajamas while her parents watched, drinking coffee. She got two dolls, a dollhouse, some clothes, and a new book. She also got a basketball, with a note from Santa, telling her to look outside. In their front yard, he’d left her a new basketball goal.

When they were through picking up the discarded gift wrappings and putting their gifts away, Emma dashed outside to play. She was dribbling the ball, preparing to take a shot, when a black car pulled up in their driveway. She had never seen the car before, but she noticed the man with the gray suit from the party get out and head toward their front porch. He knocked on the door as she missed the goal. Her mom answered it, and he went inside. That’s the last thing that she remembers.

Suddenly, the man who took her comes back into the room. He throws some more logs on the fire and looks up at the TV. Her gaze follows.

On the screen is a picture of a house in flames. A reporter says that the fire began on Christmas morning and is currently under investigation. Emma recognizes the basketball goal in the front yard. It’s her house that they are talking about. The reporter continues to say that two adults were taken to the hospital, one in critical condition, the other released with minor injuries. So far, their ten-year-old daughter has not been found.

She feels tears forming in her eyes as she processes what she heard. Her house has been destroyed, her parents are injured, and she’s been taken. She’s relieved that her parents are alive, but what is going to happen to her? Are the police looking for her, or do they believe that she’s dead in the house?

The man turns on the light in the ceiling and looks around the room. He reaches beneath the couch and pulls out a manila envelope. When he comes back up, she sees his face for the first time. His blue eyes meet hers. It’s the same man from the party who showed up at her house on Christmas Day. But why would he take her?

“He ruined my life,” the man muttered to himself.

Who, her dad? But he works with her mom. What could her dad have done to him? He turns around and faces her.

“No, we haven’t met before,” he says, “my name is Brian. I’m an attorney, and I work at the same firm as your mother. She’s shown me pictures of you.”

He brings over a bag and starts pulling stuff out. He lays her new dolls, clothes, book, and basketball in front of her.

“I couldn’t bring myself to hurt a child. Not even if you’re their daughter. One day, I told your mother about my inheritance and that I wanted to invest it. She told me that your father works in finance and that she would introduce me. I gave him all of my stocks and savings to manage. Three days before Christmas, and he fumbles it! He lost everything! I’m going to lose this house! My wife has already left me! I have nothing to lose. And neither should he,” he said.

Her mind races. What is he going to do to her? He said he doesn’t want to hurt a child, but he took her from her family and burned their house down. Her parents are in the hospital, lucky to be alive. She doesn’t think he’s going to send her back to them.

“I’m going to take you on a trip,” he tells her, “My sister has a cabin in the woods in Montana that she visits in the summer. We can go there until I figure out what to do with you. I just have to finish packing first.”

He leaves with the envelope in hand. She pulls on the zip ties as hard as she can, but they don’t budge. There has to be a way out of them. She looks around the room for something sharp. There isn’t much to work with. Maybe if she could scoot over to the fireplace, she could use the rock to saw them off. She tries to slide across the floor, but accidentally lands on her injured arm. Searing pain shoots all the way up her shoulder.

She can hear him walking around upstairs. He’s moving fast. She doesn’t know how much time she has. She inches her way across the floor, more carefully this time. When she’s about a foot away, she hears him coming back down the stairs. He stops in the entryway and stares at her, a mixture of anger and fear on his face.

He drops his suitcase, walks over to her, and grabs her by the feet. She attempts to kick his hands off her legs, but he’s too strong. She twists around, hoping the motion would cause him to lose his grip. Her right leg breaks loose, but he immediately grabs it again. He starts to drag her toward the door. She twists and kicks some more, trying to slow him down. She can’t let him put her back in the car.

Outside, through all of the commotion, she can barely hear footsteps thudding on the porch. He must have called someone. The chances of escape were already low, but with someone else helping him, it would be impossible for her to get away. She relaxes her body, letting it go limp. Then, taking careful aim, kicks him with all her strength in the groin. He drops her, lets out a howl of pain, and falls doubled over to the floor.

She scrambles to her feet and turns to face the exit. As she starts to take a step, she feels his hand on her ankles. She falls hard on her stomach. Before she can get back up, he’s standing again and starts to pull her toward the door. They are only a few feet away, and hopelessness begins to set in. She starts to surrender to her fate. Then, the front door bursts open, and police start pouring in.