Gone

I am missing. I could have been missing for more than 48 hours. I have two days growth. Jane has reported me missing, I'm sure. Damn…

My thumb slipped. The phone stopped recording. The whatsapp went. Did you know there is a Spanish verb: whatsappear? They even conjugate it. I tapped and swiped the screen again. Don't know how long 43% charge will last me, really.

Where am I? I don't know. You've read Gone Girl, seen the movie, things like that. It's always young women, isn't it? But my name is John and I won't see 40 again. That's because this isn't fiction. It's happening to me… And Jane. What happened? I've got a lump on the back of my head and I don't remember anything after leaving … where? Shit. I don't know. Ah… that's someone coming in.

Stop, send to all contacts, phone off.

I've seen the movies. Play dead. Or unconscious. I got a couple of rib-ticklers. Heavy work boots, I think. Managed not to squeal. Floor: concrete, damp. Wall to my left, brick, no render. Me, sore but not shackled, tied, anything. What about that door? I'll have a look, tell you all later.

Stop, send to all.

Metal: rusty, but solid. Hammer at it? I decided not to, just gave it a few taps. Checked time on phone screen. 00.45 A.M. Left the … Restaurant, bar, lap-dancing club? When? Feels like 48 hours ago... Maybe.

I'm walking back to the straw I woke up on. Fuck. I've just kicked a bucket of water over. Might as well have banged on the door.

Stop, send to all.

They've gone. Two of them, I couldn't stay quiet after the first two or three kicks to the ribcage. They didn't say anything. I can't believe they've left me with my wallet, phone and car keys… Is that good or bad? They had on those balaclavas that people pretending to be Special Forces put on for their Facebook posts.

You're probably wondering why I haven't dialled the emergency number. I have. No luck. These voice messages will reach someone eventually though. As long as they don't bury me here, where there's no signal.