by Vera Hollins
“I’m so sorry, Hayden. I just didn’t want you to feel bad because of me.”
“You don’t have the right to stop me if I want to help you. I feel worse when you’re pushing me away.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t want to push you away. I know how strong and capable you are. We just need to take baby steps. Take it slow, as you said. We’re still getting to know each other. All of this, us, it takes time.”
He sighed and stroked my cheek. “I know.” He pulled away. “You should go to sleep now.”
“I still didn’t drink the tea.”
I took the mug and opened the lid, inhaling a sweet scent. The tea was still warm.
“You shouldn’t go to school tomorrow. You should rest.”
He was so gentle, so different, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as I sipped my tea.
“I’m not going. Even if I weren’t sick, I wouldn’t go. I... I can’t show up there like this...”
I pointed at my asymmetrical hair, ashamed. He’d said he didn’t care about it, but other students wouldn’t feel that way, and I wasn’t ready to endure their prying looks. I needed tomorrow and the weekend to cope with this and muster up strength for Monday.
“I’ll help you with it, if you want.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a professional, obviously, but I can cut off those burned ends before you go to a hairdresser, if you want me to.”
My stomach squeezed. He managed to surprise me yet again. He would cut my hair for me.
I wasn’t able to form the right words, feeling a huge wave of love and gratitude toward him. Was this real?
“Are you real?” I asked him, getting all emotional. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
He smiled. “Then it’s settled.”
He stood up and walked over to his letter on my wall. He looked at my drawing of him above it before his eyes shifted to his poem. I placed the empty mug on the nightstand and lay back against the headboard, covering myself with the sheets.
“You didn’t throw it away,” he said quietly.
His words made my heart ache. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
His expression held hope and need, and it crushed me to see just how much he needed love. He needed my love.
“Because it’s precious to me, just like the sketch pad and pencils you brought me. I’ll never throw it away. I’ve read your poem so many times I memorized every single word.”
His lips curled into a tiny smile, his eyes drifting back to his poem. “I wrote it hours before I came to see you that day. It just poured out of me.” He closed his eyes. “But it was ironic. My feelings didn’t matter when you...” He didn’t finish his thought, but I knew how he was feeling.
I clasped my hands together. “Your feelings meant—mean—everything. That day, I completely broke when I read the last two lines...” I caught his gaze and held it. “It matters. And it doesn’t sound fake. It’s what I need the most.”
He sat back next to me and took my hands in his, looking at me with so much love and passion. My heart, mind, and body went haywire.
“I.” He kissed my left palm. “Love.” He kissed my right palm. “You.” He kissed my lips, throwing me into a whirlwind of emotions. I was lost in him, kissing him back like my life depended on it, and it was my greatest addiction. He was running through my veins, filling every part of my being, and I couldn’t function properly without him. He was in my system, and it was impossible to get him out.
“Only you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. “Never forget that.”
“WHERE ARE YOU? I’M in front of the court.”
I texted my mother and looked around the dark street as people passed me. She was supposed to meet me here after her shift in the supermarket, but she was still not here. It was way past four, and the sun had already set, so the temperature drop was considerable. I was freezing as I walked up and down the sidewalk, growing angrier with each minute. I just wanted to be done with this and go home.
My phone buzzed, and I looked at my screen expecting to see her reply.
“Did you meet her?”
It was Hayden. I sighed and texted him back.
“She’s still not here.”
His text came soon after.
“I’ll come there.”
No. He was supposed to be at therapy, and I didn’t want him to miss it just because my mother was irresponsible and uncaring.
“I don’t want you to miss your therapy. Don’t worry. She’ll come soon.”
I felt warmer knowing he wanted to be with me. This day started out like a dream. He skipped school, coming to my house as soon as I woke up, and we spent the morning and afternoon together before he went to therapy and I came here. He wanted to come with me, but I managed to convince him to go.
I felt a lot better, and all those hours spent with him... It was definitely different. It was special.
My screen lit with a new text notification, and I opened his message.
“You know I didn’t even want to go to therapy. I want to spend time with you.”
I felt the same. Everything was happening too fast, but I needed it. I happily embraced it, refusing to think about dark Hayden and enjoying everything light Hayden had to offer. These cherished memories were forever embedded in my mind.
“Me too, but you have to go. You know it’s for your own good. We’ll see each other soon anyway.”
I looked around again, becoming more impatient. Why wasn’t she answering my message?
My phone buzzed with a new text from him.
“One hour seems like a long time.”
I grinned and replied.
“It sure does.”
Minutes passed by, and I was still waiting. Letting out a disgruntled sigh, I called my mother, but her phone was turned off. I looked at my phone incredulously, and a flicker of unease filled me. Why was her phone off?
I glanced around me, conflicted. Maybe her battery ran out. Or maybe...
No, it couldn’t be Brad. He’d said he was leaving. I had to stay positive. For all I knew, she had to stay longer at work but couldn’t let me know because of the dead battery. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before.
I waited a few minutes longer, but it was clear she wasn’t coming. I shoved my phone into my pocket and headed back home. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, because I’d expected her to bail, but still. I’d hoped she would be responsible for a moment. Yet, all I got was another disappointment.
I cursed internally, stuffing my cold hands into my pockets. I didn’t have a car, so I had to make a long walk to the bus station. Hurrying to escape the cold weather, I took a shortcut between two buildings, which was a small, empty alley. I was almost at its end, when a strong shiver ran down my spine. I felt like someone was following me.
I looked over my shoulder, but there was no one, and I felt silly. This was all because of Brad and the wild scenarios my mind created these days. It had to be.
I quickened my pace. I was about to turn the corner, when I heard quick footsteps behind me. Just as I started turning around, a sudden, blinding pain exploded in my jaw.
And then there was nothing.
Chapter 23
I WOKE UP TO A THROBBING pain in my jaw, worn out and parched. I opened my eyes and tried to move, but something was restraining my hands, waist, and legs. I blinked to clear my blurry vision, lifting my head, and a twinge shot through my neck. I whimpered. I sensed a faint smell of blood, but I couldn’t discern if it was my blood or not.
“The little girl finally decided to wake up,” a sinister voice said from nearby, chilling me to the marrow. “Even with that drug I gave you, it took you long enough.”
My memories returned, and I looked around me, ignoring the pain in my neck. I was in a living room of some cabin, and the fireplace across from me provided the only source of light in the night. I flinched when I spotted Brad. He was half-covered in shado
ws, standing right next to my mother who was tied to a chair.
No.
A chilling realization hit me. He’d kidnapped us. He’d taken us to some unknown place and... What was he going to do with us?
“What do you want from us?” I croaked out, pushing against the ropes, but I only managed to make them dig deeper into my skin, causing another stab of pain.
“Relax. We’re just having a nice chat. I missed this.” His smile was twisted as he circled around my mother with a knife in his hand... A knife?!
I inhaled sharply, and the bile rose in my throat. No, no, no. My vision adjusted to the poor lighting in the room, which allowed me to see my mother. Her face was bruised and her lip was cut, but that wasn’t what scared me the most. No, it was the blood that oozed out of her slashed thighs and arms through her sliced-up clothes. My breath hitched. She was sobbing, her eyes tightly shut.
“Get away from her!”
I yanked against the ropes, trying to get up, but it was useless. My chair scrapped against the floor, barely moving. He scoffed at my attempt.
“I don’t want to. Why would I?” He moved his knife across her thigh in shredded jeans, and she winced, erupting in new tears. “I’ve been away from my dear Patty for a long time.” He leaned in to her face. “I missed you so much...”
I couldn’t swallow, my eyes fixed on the knife that slid across her leg... He jerked his hand, slicing an area above her knee, and blood gushed out of the cut. She screamed.
“No!” I cried out, his laughter ringing in my ears. I closed my eyes to get rid of that gruesome image, but it buried itself in my mind. All his smiles and polite masks he wore since I saw him on that football field shattered away, leaving room for the real truth.
He moved his knife over her arm, the sharp point snaking around the previous cuts. I was sickened to see the enjoyment on his face as he played with her mercilessly.
“Stop,” I shouted, pulling hard against the ropes. “No!”
He didn’t even look at me, cutting her arm swiftly, and our screams mixed in the air.
“You sick bastard! You’re horrible, disgusting—”
“Shut up,” he hollered and advanced toward me. I shrieked, plastering my back against the chair. “Do you want to be next?” He raised his bloody knife, sending me a clear message, and my stomach churned in primal fear.
“Stay away from me! No!”
He stopped above me and slapped me. “Silence,” he hissed, glaring at me. I tasted blood on my lip. “I don’t want to hear your voice anymore.”
A strong shudder ripped through me as I waited for his next move, scared to feel more pain. My mother stared at one spot on the floor, entirely lost just like in our old apartment in New Haven that day. She looked horrible, and I was terrified to experience the same things as her, already shedding cold sweat.
“I tried to act nice. I gave you a chance to come to me willingly, but you refused to listen. So now it has come to this.”
“You’re sick,” I hissed with loathing, unable to keep the words in me.
He raised his hand, and I hunched, expecting him to hit me again, but he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “I’m going to play with you real good after I’m finished with your mother. Now keep quiet!”
My heartbeat skyrocketed when his words sunk in. No, no, no.
I began thrashing, terror guiding my body. “Let me go! Let us go, bastard,” I screamed, burning from exertion and pain.
He shook his head. “You simply don’t listen. If I tell you to keep quiet, YOU WILL KEEP QUIET!”
He turned the knife in his hand and hit my temple with its handle. The impact was so forceful that it sent me crashing together with the chair to the floor. I banged my head on the wooden surface, feeling the most unbearable pain inside my head... Before the world grew dark and silent again.
I OPENED MY EYES, AND a dull pain hit me, settling into a throbbing ache inside my head. I was hungry and thirsty, and my bladder was full. I clenched my thighs together, desperate to empty it.
My mother was on her chair, but she wasn’t awake. Her head was hanging down, and I had no idea if she was sleeping or if she’d been knocked out. I noticed that Brad had covered her cuts with bandages, which was a relief. We were alone, with no sign of him.
It was still dark outside, and I was clueless about the time. I couldn’t see anything out of the windows, but since we were in a cabin, I assumed we were on some mountain or in a forest. I did a sweep of the living room to find any detail that could help us to get out of here, but there was nothing.
No lamps, pictures, or decorations occupied this space. There were only two couches, one armchair near the fireplace, and a long wooden dining table with a couple of chairs in the kitchen adjacent to the living room, if one sink cabinet could be called a kitchen. I didn’t see any electronics or dishes, as if he’d made sure not to keep anything that could be breakable and used against him.
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths as I assessed our situation. Brad had my mother and me. I hadn’t heard from her since Thursday night, when she called me before her night shift at the motel, and I couldn’t pinpoint when and how he took her. It was Friday afternoon when he knocked me out in that alley, and I woke up in this living room at night. He’d mentioned he drugged me, so I couldn’t know how long I’d been unconscious or what day it was. I didn’t know where we were, and obviously there were no phones here, but even so, we had to do something to escape.
Had this been his plan all this time? To kidnap my mother and me and torture us?
Hayden. Where was Hayden? Did he realize I was missing?
I groaned in exasperation. There were so many questions in my head, twirling on an uninterrupted repeat, and I felt restless because I couldn’t find any answers to them. The pain in my jaw and head was persistent, and my whole body was feeling heavy, dragging me further down into despair.
Hayden... I needed to see him.
My mother stirred and cried out in pain. The lines of her pale, bruised face showed fatigue and anguish, and it was disturbing to see it. She fluttered her eyes open and looked around her.
“He isn’t here,” I told her.
Her eyes met mine. “Son of a bitch. He’s a psychopath.” She hissed. “My whole body hurts.”
I didn’t fail to notice that she hadn’t asked me how I was, but I swallowed the hurt and pushed it aside. “What happened after I passed out?”
“He patched me up and went out. We need to get out of here.” She analyzed the room carefully.
“Do you have any idea where we are?” I asked.
“No. I was unconscious when we arrived. Shit. My ropes are too tight.”
“How and when did he kidnap you?”
“It was around five on Friday morning, I think. I went to the parking lot, and he sneaked up on me when I reached the car and hit my head. That’s the last thing I remember.”
A rush of pain surged through my head, and I bit into my lip, hoping it would pass soon.
“What were you doing in the parking lot at that time? Your shift ends at six.” I wasn’t really curious, but I needed something to take my mind off the pain.
She avoided looking at me. “I wanted a quick drink.”
I grimaced at her in disgust. I knew she kept her hip flask in the car, but it always unnerved me to hear about it.
“Was there anyone in the parking lot?”
“Not that I saw.”
I wasn’t surprised, because he wouldn’t have taken that risk otherwise. Her motel had a parking lot that was rather secluded, so it was possible to pass unnoticed at those early hours. Also, there were no cameras.
“Still, let’s hope someone saw.”
“How did he get you?” she asked.
“Almost the same way he got you. I was waiting for you as we’d agreed, but since you didn’t show up, I decided to go home. He approached me from behind in a small alley and knocked me unconscious.”
“Were there
witnesses?”
I shook my head. I wondered where my phone was. Had he taken it with him?
“I don’t understand. He’d said he was leaving Enfield. I’d convinced myself we wouldn’t have to see him again,” I said ruefully. It had sounded too good to be true, after all. “I wanted to believe I was paranoid... But here we are.”
“Even if you hadn’t believed that, what difference would it have made?” Her voice was bitter. “He would’ve taken us one way or another.”
She wore an expression of indignation, which was what I felt too, but it was partially directed at her. I never managed to fully stop blaming her for being with Brad and bringing more misery into our lives or thinking that everything—even this—was somewhat her fault. She’d let him stay in our lives for too long, sending us down the dark path that led us here, and I wouldn’t ever know if things could’ve been different.
“This is surreal.” I tensed under a surge of fury. “What does he want from us?”
She didn’t answer, gazing off into space. I gauged how tightly I was restrained. The rope cut painfully into my wrists. Maybe I could try to set myself free the next time Brad was out, but it was going to hurt...
“We have to do something,” I said. “We can’t just let him keep us here—”
The front door creaked opened, and Brad entered the living room moments later, strolling in with a stern expression on his face. Where had he been?
“So you both came round. Good.” He carried two grocery bags, which he brought to the dining table. “It’s time to feed you.”
I glared at him. Feed us?
He took out three sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and two water bottles then put the bags aside. I noticed he didn’t put any cutlery, plates, or glasses on the table. He’d thought about everything, deliberately steering clear of anything we could use to hurt him. My stomach protested, but I felt queasy, and I didn’t want to eat.