In a box.

My first thought is that I'm in a coffin, that I'd had an accident or that Dad's temper had boiled over and I'd been pronounced dead in some ghastly mistake. Then, even though my heart was racing and my panic rising I dismissed the idea as absurd. What use would there be in a coffin for a light? I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to calm down. Whatever had happened I needed to think clearly and logically and assess my situation.

I opened my eyes once more. The container I was in was coffinlike certainly, only slightly larger than my body. I tried to move. My wrists were fastened somehow down by my sides. Moving my hands I could feel narrow strips around my wrists that were firmly anchored to the base of the crate or whatever I was in. A little wriggling and I was able to ascertain that similar restraints were about my ankles, waist and neck. It was also clear that I was naked, no clothing could be felt as I wriggled about.

My heart pounded and I swallowed hard. So this was no accident or mistake at all then. Whatever had happened was deliberately done. I'd been stripped and secured and packaged by carefully planned design. It occurred to me immediately that such careful planning was almost certainly beyond my Dad's capabilities. He was a drunken slob, hardly able to raise the effort to get off the couch and drag his attention from the television long enough to slap me around and cop a feel of my body. I turned my attention to the container.

As I've already said, it resembled a coffin. The insides were padded, I could feel that beneath me and see it for myself on the surface a few inches above my face. That was a small comfort, that some care was being taken to prevent my injury meant that I was probably destined to live. The light was recessed into the padded lining just above my head and another recessed panel seemed to be a tightly meshed grille. I presumed the grille was to allow me to breathe.

There was motion, which I recognised as being from some some sort of vehicle. The vibration from an engine could be felt and also the jolts and change of direction familiar from travelling in cars and such. I couldn't hear anything of course, the container and the padding would be enough to muffle any sounds of traffic from the outside even if such sounds were there.

I considered screaming and rejected the idea, if my packaging silenced the outside world then no matter how loudly I screamed it would soundproof my cries. The fact that I hadn't been gagged in any manner was also confirmation that whoever had put me here was not worried about me calling out.

The vibration and sensations of motion abruptly stopped. A minute or two went by and then the container I was in suddenly moved. I was so surprised that now I did call out, pleading with whoever was manhandling the container to show themselves and acknowledge their existance. There was no reply, but I could feel the container being slid across a surface and then lifted. By the way it moved I guessed I was being carried in my box. That would probably mean at least two people were involved. I tried to make sense of the movement I felt. The box tilted, did that mean stairs? There was a short pause, perhaps a wait for a door being opened? I could feel whenever a turn was made and tried to remember which turns were made and whether the box tilted up or down to indicate stairs or a slope.

After a short while the continer was grounded once more and all motion stopped. Straining to listen I thought that perhaps I could hear voices, but so muffled I could not be certain. I shouted as loudly as I could for attention and this time there was a response of a kind. The container jolted and the was a dull thud. Someone outside had heard me and either kicked or hit the container. I fell silent, were they showing annoyance at me for crying out?

I waited for the container to be opened, trembling in anticipation.