by L. G. Davis
The tension on Jared’s face tells me he has realized his mistake. He should have chosen seats much closer to the stage. He’s right to worry that if he leaves me, I might walk away. My muscles are already tight with the need to run.
At first, I’m afraid he will ask me to go up anyway, but someone from the crowd pats him on the back and nudges him forward. The look he gives me before stepping forward is one that leaves me cold. He’s still smiling, but even though he’s able to fool everyone else, I see the evil in his eyes, the warning.
Can I run from him? Do I have a choice?
With each step he takes forward, he throws a glance over his shoulder.
I wait with bated breath until he gets up on the stage, still glancing my way. My luck comes when the mayor engulfs him in a hug. For a moment, Jared’s face is turned away from me.
I don’t waste time. I get to my feet and move away as fast as I can on shaky legs.
“Where are you going?” I stiffen when Rachel’s voice comes out of nowhere. I consider stopping to speak to her, but since she was rude to me earlier, I figure she might understand why I don’t.
I keep moving faster, my head bowed, my upper body folded so it would be hard for Jared to see me over the heads of the standing people. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that Rachel is nowhere to be seen.
Over the speakers, I can still hear the mayor talking to Jared. It would be impolite of him to walk away.
Weaving my way through the many people is hard and I’m already weak with anxiety. My upper lip and my armpits are damp with sweat.
I need to keep going. I cannot stop.
I step over empty bottles, candy wrappers, and chips packets on the ground. A man curses when I bump into him, but there’s no time to look back, to apologize.
I run.
When I finally break away from the crowd and come to the large parking lot near the stores closest to the square, I freak out. Where will I go now? Where can I hide? All the shops are closed because of the festival, and I don’t have a car to drive out of town. If I decide to walk, it’s only a matter of time before Jared finds me. He might even ask people to look for me. I’m pregnant and tired. There’s no way I’d get far.
From where I stand, I can still hear the sounds of celebration. I’m still close to danger. He must be frantically searching for me now.
For a few minutes, I wander around the parked cars, grateful that they are giving me temporary cover.
An idea drops into my mind and my gaze drifts to one of the many tourist buses parked on the curb of the main street. I run toward them.
A very tall man, maybe a driver, is standing in front of one of the buses, smoking a cigarette. I can barely make out his face through the thick smoke swirling around his head.
I choose one of the two buses that are open and have no people inside.
I don’t think twice before running inside the cool interior and straight to the back of the bus, where I crouch down so no one sees me, at least not immediately. On the seat close to where I’m hiding is a leather bag. It calls for me to open it, to search it for money or anything that could assist in my escape. It’s hard to resist the temptation. I’m not a thief, but this is a desperate situation.
I unzip it and push my hand inside, but I don’t find any money or a phone I could use to call Rosemary.
* * *
The longer the wait gets, the more I tremble.
Maybe what I’m doing is not smart. Should I have kept running? No, I’m too exhausted for that.
It would be far safer for me to disappear this way. The only problem is that I don’t know how long the tourists will stay at the festival. Or maybe it’s not a bad thing if they stay long. If Jared is unable to find me among the people at the square, he might decide to search elsewhere.
I wait for what feels like thirty minutes. When nothing happens, panic grips me. Jared is a smart man. He could decide to look inside the buses. My only hope is that the drivers will keep him out. But what if every seat on the bus is occupied and the passengers immediately realize that I’m not one of them?
My mind begs me to get out, to find another place to hide, but my body refuses to move. What if Jared is waiting outside the door?
Rock music from the festival makes the air around me vibrate. Later, when I’m gone from Sanlow, I’ll always remember the song playing. The soundtrack of my life.
Unsure what else to do, I shut my eyes and start to count. I stop at fifty-two because I hear a sound. Someone has entered the bus. He must be talking on the phone. I hear his voice, but no one replies.
It dawns on me that if someone finds me hiding, they will know I don’t belong in the bus. Why would I hide if I’m one of them? They will alert the driver immediately.
My heartbeat is racing as I sit up. When I glance out the window, I spot Jared. Rachel is with him. She was probably watching me the entire time and now she’s telling him where she saw me headed.
I crouch back down, my insides quivering.
The man inside the bus has finished his call, but not long after, more voices mingle in the air. People are entering the bus. I force myself to sit up again, to seem normal even though sweat is dripping down the middle of my face. I can no longer see Jared or Rachel outside.
A man in a jeans jacket peers at me suspiciously, but says nothing as he takes a seat in the second row from the front of the bus. I hold my breath when an old woman with a large mole on her chin makes her way to the back, toward me. As soon as our eyes meet, hers narrow.
“You’re not from the Sunshine Home,” she says sternly. “What are you doing in here?”
That’s when my mistake hits me hard over the head. The people entering the bus are much older than me. They are probably from an old age home. No wonder the woman knows right away that I don’t belong.
I clear my throat. “I just—” before I can think of something to say, she opens her lips to speak.
“We have an intruder,” she shouts. “She could be a thief.”
As soon as she says the words, people start rooting inside their bags and a younger man enters the bus and makes his way to the back. He might be the driver.
My hands are growing clammy by the second and sweat pushes through my upper lip.
“I’m afraid you will have to leave, ma’am,” he says, running a hand over his buzz cut. “This bus is for the Sunshine Home members only.”
Ashamed and terrified, I rise to my feet.
“She’s harmless,” a woman with a tiny bun on top of her head says out loud. “She’s pregnant. Maybe she was tired and wanted to rest. It’s crazy out there.”
“Thank you,” I mouth to her. She doesn’t notice because she looks away too quickly.
“Very well,” the driver says after a moment’s hesitation. “But now you have to leave. If you don’t, I will have to call the cops.”
All of a sudden, the woman who had warned everyone about me starts screaming. “I can’t find my pearls,” she shouts. “I left them on my seat. She must have taken them.”
“I didn’t steal anything,” I croak. “I don’t even have a purse.” Before we left the house, Jared told me that there was no need for me to bring my handbag to the festival.
It’s a good thing I didn’t find anything to steal in the bag next to me.
The old woman doesn’t listen. She continues to shout in anger. “Someone call the police.”
To my horror, a cop walks into the bus. It’s the same man who had questioned Jared and me about Victor’s disappearance.
My throat closes up.
“Mrs. Bloom,” he says in surprise. “What are you doing in here? This is a tourist bus.”
“I’m sorry, I was tired. I needed to sit down.” I lick my dry lower lip and raise my hands, palms facing him. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
My hands are still in the air when I reach the front of the bus. But as soon as I step out, the first person I see is Jared, wearing the medal the mayor had given him.
There are several more people surrounding the bus. He must have figured out that there was something going on and came to have a look.
“It’s all right, officer,” he says. “My wife gets a little confused these days. It’s the pregnancy. I’m so sorry.” He reaches for my hand and holds on tight.
I want to pull away, to call for help, but he would be forced to tell the cop who I am and what I did.
On the way to the car, he pulls me to his side and whispers into my ear. “I warned you. I hope you’re ready for the consequences.”
Chapter 26
The short walk to the car feels long and painful with Jared’s arm tight around me, his fingers pinching my skin.
People are staring at us. I see them through the blur in my eyes. I’ll certainly be the talk of town for the next few days. But I can’t find it in myself to care. It’s only a matter of time before I leave this town behind. I failed today, but sooner or later Jared will make a mistake that will lead to my escape.
When I try to pull away, he pulls me closer. “Don’t mess with me, Kelsey. It will only take a second for me to turn around and tell the cops what you did to Victor.”
“You’re a monster,” I hiss. I want to fight him, to let everyone know that he’s keeping me prisoner, but my punishment would be harsher than his. I probably killed a beloved member of the community, a man whose memory they honored not too long ago.
“It takes one to know one, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to my cheek that makes my stomach roll.
Finally, we arrive at the car and he forces me inside with only his toxic words. I hate that he doesn’t even need to lift a finger in order to make me do what he wants.
His hands grab the wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. He pulls away from the parking spot carefully and drives me back to the house I had hoped to never see again.
The tightness in his jaw tells me he would prefer to drive faster, to ignore the speed limit, but he knows the cops will be watching. As soon as we’re a good distance away from the festival, he hits the gas.
As the view outside my window becomes a blur, I grip the door handle with one hand and place the other on my belly. My stomach lurches when the car starts speeding toward the back of a blue pickup truck.
I guess I was wrong. He doesn’t care about the cops. He thinks he’s untouchable.
“What are you doing?” I scream when we get even closer. “Are you crazy?”
“No,” he says without looking at me. “I’m furious, and I want to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
I shut my eyes and grip the handle tighter. The tires scream when he brakes suddenly and my back presses deeper into my seat. My eyes fly open in time to see the other driver pull up at the curb. Jared picks up speed, ignoring the anger directed toward him with the shake of a fist.
When we reach the house, my stomach contracts with the urge to throw up, but I ignore it until it goes away.
“Don’t do that again,” I say, stumbling out of the car only to lean against it for support. My knees are still weak with fear.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He slams the door and comes to my side. “Get in the house.”
When I hesitate, he grabs my arm and pushes me toward the house. He doesn’t have to worry about someone seeing him being rough on me. The street is quiet because people are at the festival.
As soon as we enter the house, he slams the door shut and locks it. The key goes back into his pocket. Before I can prepare myself for what comes next, he picks me up from the floor. If he had done this a couple of months ago, it would have been romantic. I would have been giggling instead of screaming at him to put me back down.
“You’ll pay for what you did today,” he says carrying me through the hallway that leads to the basement door.
Fear flushes through my body. When we reach the door and my mind registers what’s about to happen, I struggle harder for him to let me go.
I don’t do basements. I haven’t stepped into one for years. When I was a kid, I slept in the basement. While some kids have their own rooms and a comfortable bed, I had the basement and a dingy mattress. My grandmother’s house had four bedrooms, but she didn’t think I deserved one of my own.
“You want to play this game the hard way?” He tightens his grip. Pain spreads through my entire body. I’m terrified it might reach my baby.
“Please,” I beg. “Don’t do this.”
“You are making me do it, Kelsey. It’s all your fault.” He kicks the door open.
“No,” I say as panic rushes through me. “I’m not going down there.”
If he takes me to the basement, that’s it. I’ll be cut off from the world. People will come and go and not even know that I’m inside the house. I cannot go through that again.
My feet connect with the floor hard when Jared puts me down and flicks on the light. “Get inside.”
“I don’t want to. Please, I’ll do whatever you want. But don’t...don’t make me go down there.”
Jared pushes his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “You have two choices. Either you go into the basement or I’ll call the cops right now. Make a choice.”
For a split second I wonder whether it’s best to go to prison and get it over with, but the thought of experiencing the things I went through behind bars fills me with dread.
I walk through the door, my hands clenched tight, sweat trickling down my spine.
Before I descend the stairs, I look behind me at the man who calls himself my husband.
“What are you waiting for?” he growls. “Go on.” He gets behind me so close his body nudges me forward, almost knocking me down the stairs.
I grab the railing and lower my foot onto the first dusty step.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I’m shaking, my armpits now drenched with sweat.
It’s okay. You are an adult now. You will be fine down here.
If only I could get myself to believe it. I can’t help feeling like a scared little girl again with Jared playing the role of my evil grandmother.
“Good,” he says, his breath scalding the back of my neck. “This is where you’ll stay from now on. You deserve to be punished for the way you humiliated me today.” He grips the back of my neck and squeezes until I whimper. “If you betray me again, I will kill you.”
Even though I don’t want to believe he’s a murderer, even though I want to tell myself he’s lying, my gut tells me he means every word.
“No.” The fear of death is enough to make me fight back. Without thinking about the consequences of my actions, I lunge for him, clawing at his cheek with my nails.
He hisses with pain, then he plants the palm of his hand on my chest and pushes me so hard I stumble back. My buttocks meet the dusty floor so hard pain shoots up my spine. I shouldn’t have done that. He’s so much stronger than I could ever be.
My hands go to my stomach. What am I doing? My baby has been subjected to so much suffering already. How much more will it be able to take? Is it even alive?
Before I can pull myself back to my feet, Jared stomps up the stairs and slams the door shut. The light goes off and I’m plunged into darkness.
I don’t move from the spot. Inside my head, I’m back in my grandmother’s house. Like I used to do back then, I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, careful not to squeeze the baby too tight. I rock back and forth while gazing into the darkness.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper softly. “You don’t have to be afraid. We will make it out of here.” I don’t believe a single word I’m saying.
I pull in breath after breath to calm myself, but it’s not working. My body refuses to relax. How can I protect my baby if I cannot even protect myself?
After a while, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I force myself to look around. That’s when I notice a tiny window at the far end of the room. It’s so small and the glass is too dirty to allow enough sunlight to enter. I sit staring at it, un
moving, my body numb.
I’m not sure how long I wait for Jared to return, but it has to be a while because by the time the light is switched on and the door is unlocked, I’m hungry again, the pie I ate at the festival long forgotten.
He appears at the top of the stairs with a slice of bread in one hand and a plastic cup of water in the other.
“I hope you have made yourself at home down here,” he says, smiling as he descends the stairs.
I don’t answer and he doesn’t say anything more. Instead of giving me the bread, he throws it onto the dirty floor and lowers the cup of water next to it. He leaves again, locking the door behind him.
My fingers search the floor for the bread. I’m too hungry to care that it’s dirty. I find it and dust it off with my clothes as best I can. I eat it like someone who hasn’t eaten anything in weeks. I don’t get to drink the water. In my desperation to drink it, I knock it over by mistake while reaching for it.
That’s when I quit holding on and cry, deep, heart-wrenching sobs. I cry for the life I almost had. I cry for my unborn child. I cry because I’m so tired.
When there’s nothing else left in me, I pick myself up off the floor. With the help of the faint light from the window, I shuffle toward one of the boxes. Even though the basement reminds me of the past, maybe it’s the best place for me to be right now. Maybe I’ll be able to find something to help me.
I have to do something or risk going insane. Maybe that’s what he wants. He wants me to go crazy so he can have complete power over me.
Blocking out my childhood fears, I start searching through the boxes around me, looking for weapons I could use to defend myself.
Most of the boxes are filled with clothes, nothing that could inflict harm.
Just when I’m about to give up, I come across a photo frame. I snap it apart, separating it into four pieces of wood. They might come in handy.
Even though there are still many boxes I can search through, my aching body is screaming for me to rest. I lean against one of the boxes and close my eyes.