Fiction: The Kidnapping

It was such a fraught time those five months, not knowing exactly where I was or what was happening around me. I didn’t even know if my friends were still alive because we were not allowed out of our cells, not even to go to the toilet instead a bucket was placed in the corner for that purpose and food was always brought in and as for food, well it was thrown at me each day. Only got one meal a day and it was mostly rotting meat.

For five months I saw no one, not even my captors, because when they entered my cell I was always ordered to put my blindfold on, and if I hadn’t of cooperated with them then I would be beaten. So to avoid that pain I always obliged with any orders given to me. Best thing to do. I couldn’t take any more pain.

It didn’t take much for my captors to beat the living daylights out of me.  My body was no longer white, it was now officially black and blue as I was covered in bruises from head to toe.   I can’t even begin to imagine how much blood I lost each week with the amount of bleeding I did from all the beatings I got. I was constantly spitting blood out of my mouth and nursing my wounds as best I could. It was a nightmare and each night I prayed for release.  I prayed to anyone that would listen to me. I wasn’t sure if there was a God or gods out there as none of my prayers were being answered. I was still caught up in one hell of a nightmare.

Days, weeks and months spent in solitude. No one to talk to and I was forbidden to talk to my captors so over time I lost the ability to form sentences or even words.  I suppose I could have spoken to myself, but if I was heard speaking out loud I was beaten again! After a while my voice box seemed to break from lack of use and all I could do was croak. I was a mess, an utter utter mess. I was broken - physically, emotionally and mentally.

So I had no one to talk to and nothing to do but sit and stare at the grey four walls day in and day out. It was boredom and not being able to use my brain in anyway affected me badly. I felt like I was shutting down completely. I had lost the ability to keep going. I was just so broken.  

Let me describe to you the contents of my living quarters, as glamorous as they were – in the corner of my room was my four star bed – a torn up blanket. It is here I spent most of my days, just lying curled up in a ball feeling sorry for myself. There wasn’t much else I could do, there was nothing worth looking at except all the blood spattered on the walls from when I got battered and bruised. To be fair, they did make some interesting patterns. One blood spatter looked a bit like the continent of Africa – they very content on which I was being held hostage at the moment. Ironic!

Every day I thought why me? Why am I the one being held hostage, being confined to the cell? What did I do? Why exactly was I there?

Before being captured I had been enjoying a lovely Safari holiday in Kruger Park, in South Africa. It was a great trip, we had seen the big five – Elephant, Rhino, Lion, Buffalo and the elusive Leopard. It was fantastic, we even watched a Zebra being pounced on and killed by a Lion – a real live kill, not something everyone sees.

After four days of going on an animal hunt we spent a few days in Nelspruit and it was here that we had been surrounded by six masked men who grabbed us, shoved us into the back of a black van, handcuffed us together and drove us away. All we were doing was walking home from the pub one night, we had done nothing wrong. We had been in the pub most of the night, keeping ourselves to ourselves.

Here we were all six of us in this van, hands tied behind our backs, wondering what was going on. We had been ordered not to speak to each other which would be very difficult anyway since they had taped our mouths shut! We were scared and confused with the situation we were now in. We were helpless.

We drove for what seemed like mile and miles. Sat in the darkness, dazed and confused.  We weren’t allowed to look at each other or else we would get slapped in the face.  We weren’t allowed to close our eyes or else we would be slapped. It got to the point that I was afraid to do anything in case I got slapped or beaten, I was even afraid to breathe.

Finally after what seemed like hours on the road we stopped, we apparently had reached our destination.  We were unsure of where we were, and we couldn’t even look around us to find our bearings because before we were allowed out of the van we were blindfolded.

Our captors kicked us out of the van and one by one we were led into some kind of building were we were separated from each other. I was led into a cell and thrown down onto the floor. I never saw my mates after that so I cannot talk about where they went or what happened to them because I had no idea.

Back to my cell – like I said it was sparse, there was no window so no sunlight or anyway or getting any ventilation in, so the cell stank of me, rotting food, vomit, dried congealed blood and other bodily fluids.  It was a claustrophobic, stifling situation made to make me suffer more than I was.

I was alone. I was in darkness. I felt abandoned.  I was regularly beaten and abused. I sat in solitude and I cried. I cried for me, I cried for my friends, I cried for my loved ones back home. Did they miss me? Did they know where I was? Did they know what had happened to me? All these questions just kept going around and around in my head. I was driving myself insane.

I sat and I thought. Asking myself more questions. Where my friends still here? What was happening to them? Why were we captured? Was anyone back home fighting for us, negotiating our release? Would I ever see the outside and freedom again? Would I ever be able to breathe fresh air again?

My head just buzzed and buzzed with all these questions and thoughts. I was depressed. Negative thoughts had taken over my head. I could do nothing to help myself. For the first few weeks I did press ups and sit ups to try and keep myself busy and keep my strength up but when the depression hit me full throttle there was nothing I could do but lay down in the corner in a pool of sadness.

What did my captors want from me? There was nothing special about me. I wasn’t a millionaires. I was an ordinary business man from Northern Ireland.  I wasn’t famous.  I was just a normal guy hanging out on holiday with my five mates. We had done nothing wrong. We didn’t have fights with locals, we didn’t steal anything and we didn’t unlawfully kill any of the animals in Kruger. We were normal people doing normal touristy things.

I had never been in prison, never been arrested, never been in trouble before. I was a simple man who had a loving family, good friends and a good business. I was a company director of a small company and not a global company like Samsung, just a small local company in Northern Ireland selling second hand cars.

I never laundered money, never did secret deals, did not have any access to important information, all I knew about was selling and buying cars.  Why would anyone want to kidnap me? I was of no value to anyone.  No value to my kidnappers. If a ransom was being asked for, I really doubted that the British government would pay for my release if it was demanded from them.

Doubts started going through my head, Doubts about who my friends actually were. Did I know them as well as I thought I did? Maybe one of them had been involved in something that the rest of us did not know about.  Maybe they had information that was of value to the South Africans. Where my friends really who they said they were?

Or could it just be a case of mistaken identity or being in the wrong place at the wrong time?  Whatever it is, I know I am never going to find out. And I also know deep down in my heart I am never going to see the light of day again. I will never see my mates, my friends, my family or anyone in my company. I am destined to either a life of hurt or pain or else I will end my days in this hole. I think it will be the latter. All I know that life as I knew it is now over.