Terror filled eyes gazed around the darkened room, trying to focus. Hoping that this was some sort of weird nightmare without Freddy in it. Begging to wake up and find herself in her own room at home, in a comfortable bed.
"Ouch," her head hurt and there was something drippy running down the back of her neck from the back of her head.
Sherry vaguely saw a light outside a distorted window. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again to clear her vision. It looked like it said, FRIENDLY MOTEL something or another. This was clearly not a dream.
Both of her hands were bound behind her back with duct tape. Legs curled to one side, feet wrapped tightly, again with duct tape, anchored by a longer strip to the hands. Her mouth full with a wad of gauze. Covering her full lips was yet another strip of duct tape.
"OK, remember!" she commanded her brain. "I just got out of psych class, going to my car, laughing with friends. Parked further out of the lot, on the street where the hedges were, alone, unlocked the car door, a rustling noise from behind, then black out."
She heard a TV blaring out from an adjacent room. What day is this? How long have I been out? Oh God, what is happening to me? Why, why, why? She let out a muffled scream.
Panic set in momentarily, but panic was useless. Sherry cryed out to God in silence with tears streaming down her face.
The door banged closed on the other side, and someone was in that room. Heavy footsteps, and dark shadow preceding the man. It was the duct tape maniac, she thought hysterically. She pictured headlines, wondering if this was the end of the road. The end of her life, and promising future. What next? She hadn't thought about after death. It never seemed to occur to her that death would be an event close enough to plan for.
He came to the doorway between the two rooms. Entered the room where she partially laid on the floor, propped against the wall. Striding towards her in few giant steps. Looming above like a vulture, smelling like sweat without a clue of deodorant. He wore a mask like toboggan over his face, a dark t-shirt with Harley on it. The knife he held in his tattooed right hand slid from her bosom up her throat gently, with the blade point to her quivering chin.
Forcing her to look at him with her chin up. He said, "Girlie, you sure are a pretty little thing, so I know you ain't gonna be a waste of my time the next day or so. Even if your rich ole daddy don't come through for us. You sure are gonna be a tasty treat!" He licked his lips, rolling a fat tongue along thin lines for emphasis. The phone rang, and he stalked out of the room to answer.
"So, that's what he's after," Sherry thought. "My father is a senator, but he definitely isn't wealthy." Sherry was well aware of her father's secret gambling debts and other such lewdicrous expenses.
Her uncle Daniel was the only one she ever turned to for support and guidance. Thinking about him soothed her nervousness. She knew he would pray and God would answer and get her out of this horrible situation.
She wished that she had listened more closely to his sermons. Many times she attended services, where he preached in Minitoba. Uncle Daniel was a wonderful pastor.
She was totally drained. Bowing her head praying simply, silently. Mentally relaying to the Lord Jesus her hunger to know him better. She sought his presence. Praying for mercy and forgiveness for being slack.
She envisioned hell, and heaven. She thought about her future. She searched out the window for a sign, and the light of the MOTEL sign began to flicker making a huge broken buzzing sound before it went completely out.
And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.
So Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many; and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto salvation.
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