It was around 7 a.m., and the early morning light filtered softly through the kitchen window. Sandra's mom, Mrs. Halen, moved quietly around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The gentle sound of utensils clinking against plates filled the room as the sweet smell of pancakes spread through the house.
Just then, Sandra came downstairs. Her long black hair rested neatly on her shoulders, smooth and well kept, and her eyes were fixed on the phone in her hand as she scrolled through it. At sixteen, she had a calm but stubborn look on her face, as if nothing around her really mattered.
"Morning mum," she said casually as she made her way toward the dining table.
"Morning dear how was your night," Mrs. Halen replied warmly, turning slightly to look at her daughter.
"fine," Sandra answered shortly, her eyes fixed on the glowing screen of her phone, her fingers scrolling without interest in anything around her.
Mrs. Halen placed a plate of freshly made pancakes in front of Sandra, hoping the meal would brighten her mood.
"Hope you'll enjoy it," Mum said gently.
"hmm," Sandra replied absentmindedly, still staring at her phone.
Mrs. Halen sighed softly.
"Can you at least drop the phone and eat," mum suggested patiently.
"fine," Sandra said, finally putting the phone aside and picking up her fork.
"Thanks," mum said quietly, relieved.
As Sandra began eating, Mrs. Halen moved to the sink and started washing the dishes. Through the window, she noticed Mr. Paul, the elderly neighbor, struggling to carry some heavy boxes into his house.
Her heart softened at the sight.
"Sandra, can you help out Mr. Paul with those boxes before you go to school," mum said kindly.
Without even looking up from her plate, Sandra replied coldly.
"Nah, I don't have time," she said, continuing to eat.
"But it won't take you more than five minutes to do that," mom insisted.
"No mum," she said firmly.
There was a brief silence.
"But poor old Mr. Paul needs help."
Sandra rolled her eyes.
"I don't care mom!" she retorted sharply.
Mrs. Halen turned toward her daughter, clearly disappointed.
"But you need to help him."
Sandra scoffed.
"Why can't you do it yourself," Sandra challenged.
"Sandra," mum warned, her voice growing firmer.
Sandra pushed her chair back slightly, irritation rising inside her.
"You know what, you've just spoilt my mood. Am leaving," she said, grabbing her bag and heading toward the door.
She paused briefly, looked back at her mother, and added with a careless shrug,
"By the way the pancake taste horrible."
Before her mother could respond, she walked out.
It was 10 p.m. that night.
The house was quiet and dimly lit. Mrs. Halen sat alone on the couch, her hands tightly clasped together, worry written all over her face.
Her eyes kept drifting to the door.
"Where did she go to? what must have happened to her?" she murmured anxiously.
Suddenly the door opened.
Sandra walked in as if nothing had happened.
"Good evening mum," she greeted casually.
Mrs. Halen stood up immediately.
"And where are you coming from," mum inquired.
"School," Sandra replied.
Her mother frowned in confusion.
"School? When do your school close," her mom asked.
"3pm," Sandra replied.
"what's the time now?" her mom questioned.
"10 pm," Sandra replied.
Mrs. Halen stared at her daughter in disbelief.
"Your school close by 3 and you're home by 10," her mom asked concerned.
Sandra folded her arms.
"so what's the problem," Sandra retorted.
Mrs. Halen's patience was beginning to break.
"You are the problem," Mom said.
Sandra raised an eyebrow.
"Really," Sandra challenged.
"Yeah, you're putting up an attitude I don't like."
Sandra laughed sarcastically.
"Wow, so now I got bad attitude," Sandra remarked.
Mrs. Halen took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.
"Sandra whatever is happening you can talk to me, coming back late isn't the right thing," mum said calmly.
Sandra's face hardened.
"Am old enough to make decisions on my own, mom," Sandra asserted.
Her mother shook her head in disbelief.
"For goodness's sake you're 16, you can't make decisions on your own," her mom argued.
Sandra's frustration exploded.
"Well, am tired of you controlling my life mom!" Sandra exclaimed.
"Controlling your life, am not controlling your life," mum replied.
Sandra's eyes burned with anger.
"Yes, you are, that's how you controlled dad's life which eventually led to his death!" she accused.
Mrs. Halen froze.
"Sandra," her mom said shocked and surprised.
But Sandra continued, her voice cold.
"Yes, mom, you know I value my life so much that I won't let you ruin it for me," Sandra asserted.
Tears began to form in Mrs. Halen's eyes.
"Sandra, I can't believe you're saying this, alright if you don't need my help at least you need God's help," her mom suggested.
Sandra's expression hardened.
"I don't need God's help either!" Sandra retorted.
"Don't say that, our protector we need his help," mum insisted.
Sandra's anger boiled over.
"If he's our protector, why did dad die? tell me, bountiful Christian!" she said angrily.
Her mother's voice trembled.
"God alone knows why Sandra," her mum replied.
Sandra scoffed.
"That's the trash you guys say, I don't need him to protect me before I die like dad. I can protect myself." Sandra declared.
"No, you can't, you need God, you need Jesus," her mom urged.
Sandra exploded with rage.
"To hell with God!"
Immediately, her mom slapped her.
The sound echoed through the silent house.
"You don't say that in my house," her mom said fiercely.
Sandra slowly started laughing.
"why are you laughing now? you think it's funny," her mom questioned.
Sandra wiped her face and shook her head bitterly.
"Ah, I've really suffered, you know what am leaving this house for you and your so-called protector," she said as she walked away.
"Sandra!" her mom called out.
"Am out," she said and left, shutting the door behind her.
"Sandra!" her mom called again.
But Sandra didn't respond.
Sandra was walking on the lonely road in the middle of the night. The streetlights flickered weakly above her, casting long shadows across the empty road. The night air was cold, but Sandra was too angry to notice.
"Stupid God, all you ever bring is problem," she mummed bitterly as she walked, kicking a small stone across the road.
The street was silent.
Too silent.
Suddenly, the sound of a car engine broke the quiet. A black car slowly pulled up beside her and stopped.
Sandra frowned and stepped back slightly.
The car doors opened.
Three guys stepped out.
Their eyes fixed on her.
One of them smiled in a way that made Sandra's stomach twist with fear.
"what's up babe," one of the guys said.
Sandra tried to act brave, even though her heart had begun beating faster.
"What do you want," Sandra said, a little scared but trying to act tough.
Another guy laughed softly.
"You, of course, baby girl," another guy said.
A chill ran down Sandra's spine.
She quickly tried to walk past them, hoping to leave before things got worse.
But one of the guys suddenly stepped in front of her and blocked her path.
Sandra's fear grew.
"Hey, dude let me go," she demanded, trying to push past him.
The guy looked at the others and smirked.
"Alright play time is over," he said.
Before Sandra could react, two of them grabbed her arms tightly.
"Let me go!" Sandra screamed instantly.
She struggled wildly, trying to pull herself free.
"Help! Somebody help me!" she cried, her voice shaking with fear.
But the road was empty.
No one was there.
One of the men covered her mouth while the others dragged her toward the car.
Sandra kicked and fought with everything she had.
"Please! Let me go!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.
Her heart pounded loudly in her chest as panic filled her mind.
The men forced her toward the back seat.
She tried to resist, grabbing the car door and pushing against them.
But they were stronger.
"Stop! Please!" she screamed again.
They shoved her inside the car.
Sandra tried to crawl back out, still shouting and crying for help.
But one of the men slammed the door shut with force.
The sound echoed through the empty street.
The engine started.
Within seconds, the black car sped away into the darkness, leaving the road silent once again.
Inside the car, Sandra's desperate cries continued as the vehicle disappeared into the night.
The car slowed as the road thinned into sand.
No streetlights. No houses. Just the quiet stretch of shoreline and the low sound of waves.
It stopped.
One of the men stepped out and opened the back door.
"Out."
Sandra hesitated.
A firm grip on her arm pulled her forward, forcing her feet onto the sand.
She looked up.
A small boat waited by the shore, rocking slightly with the water. A man stood inside it, watching them silent, ready.
No one spoke.
One of the kidnappers guided her closer, not giving her space to resist.
"Careful," the man in the boat said, stepping forward.
They pushed her toward him.
She stumbled as she climbed in, the boat shifting under her weight. The man grabbed her arm and steadied her before letting go.
"Sit."
She sat.
The two men who brought her didn't leave. They stepped into the boat after her, one at a time, their movements sure and practiced.
Back on the shore, the last man got into the car.
The engine started.
Sandra turned her head.
The headlights cut through the darkness as the car pulled away, the sound fading as it drove back the way they came.
Gone.
The man in the boat untied the rope.
The engine roared to life.
No one spoke.
The boat pulled away from the shore, carrying all of them into the dark water.