Run, Darling

by Nicola Tee

  “It all happened so quickly. I threw the piping hot water in his face. Backwards he catapulted, slamming into the opposite wall, which gave me just enough room to squeeze past him. My legs moved before my brain told them to. I had an approximate twenty-second advantage on him, and I needed to make it count. I ran back down the hall and through the kitchen. I was heading for the garage, hoping the door to it was unlocked, as he was always in the garage for a few hours after breakfast. It was open, thank God it was open! I do not want to think what would have happened to me if the door was locked, it makes me go all cold just thinking about it.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I stepped down into the garage. My heart sank when I saw the garage shutter door was down. I was trapped! There was a wooden table to the left of the door with a load of tools on it. I grabbed the biggest metal tool I saw and tucked myself behind the door whilst trying to find out how to open the shutter from afar. Is it weird to say that having a weapon in my hand made me feel powerful? At that point all I knew was if he caught me before I escaped, I was going to put up one hell of a fight, there was no way I was going back into that twenty-five by sixteen prison quietly.

  “My heart was probably pounding loud enough to give away where I was hiding. But somehow, I was focused and ready for the next turn of events. I kept repeating Lizzie’s words, ‘Run, darling’, in my head as encouragement. It actually worked, those two words have helped me be in the present, sitting opposite you. I gazed around the garage and finally saw a black button protruding out of a white square. The problem was it was on the opposite wall to where I was standing, and I could hear him calling out to me. He kept yelling, ‘Oh, Kate, I am coming for you!’, as he closed in on me. He managed to turn my great escape into a twisted game of hide and seek. I once again whispered, ‘Run, darling’, under my breath, and then flew across the garage and whacked the shutter button on my arrival. I fell to the floor and as soon as the shutter started lifting, I rolled out of hell. I knew he couldn’t get onto the floor and roll like I did, and that he would have to wait for it to be all the way up to get outside so that gave me another good head start, as it was a painfully slow shutter.

  “As soon as I was clear of the shutter I jumped to my feet and I ran straight towards the forest. I didn’t look back, not once. I was inches away from being hidden amongst the trees, a perfect camouflage when I heard bang! Bang! I leaped forward and fell to the ground. I crawled a few feet to the first tree and planted myself behind it. I managed to compose myself, and then I wiped off the fallen leaves stuck to my trousers and lifted myself up, ready to run for my life. I took extra precautionary measures by running in a zigzag formation to make the target on my back harder for him to hit. The funny thing is, he called himself a hunter; the bullets were nowhere near me. I could tell he was off from where I was by metres, thanks to my impeccable hearing. If he had a better shot and took me down, I would have died trying and that must count for something. I ran and ran until I reached the town centre, and that was when I was brought in to you by one of your officers.”

  A Long Way Away

  “Do you remember roughly where you ran from, or how long you were running for?”

  “Literally from the middle of nowhere. I was held away from civilisation, I never heard anything from outside the house. Not a postman, not a delivery driver, not one passing neighbour saying morning, nothing. You could never imagine how much I longed to hear a voice just so I could get a bit of hope that someone one day would come knocking. I only went outside once and that was when I was made to dig a grave for Lizzie’s body. I thought about hitting him with the spade and running. I even did a three hundred and sixty-degree take of my surroundings, trying to plan a way out of the nightmare that was my reality, but all I saw were trees. It was soul destroying to see how far from people I was. Plus, Mr. Hump had his gun loaded in his hand at all times, just in case, I tried to make a break for it. If I had known then what I know now I would have made a run for it because he was no trained sniper, then again, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

  “Although I was in hell, I didn’t want to die, and I especially didn’t want to leave this world with a bullet in my back and thrown in a self-dug grave alongside Lizzie. I knew death was a potential repercussion of me trying to escape this morning, but I saw it as a risk I needed to take as I couldn't spend another night in that prison. It was so lonely and deafeningly quiet, to the point where I could hear every breath I took throughout the day and at night-time, my breathing seemed to make a melody, it was that prominent. I actually used to count my breaths at night to occupy my mind until I eventually drifted off to sleep.

  “I can probably work out where the house is for you, if I mentally retrace my steps.”

  “It is worth a try. All we need is an approximate location, so we can start a grid search,” states Mr. Simmons.

  “Well, let me give it a go,” I close my eyes trying to get myself in the zone.

  “Okay, here goes. After I whacked the garage shutter button, I fell to the concrete floor and rolled under it. As soon as the fresh air hit my cheeks I frantically climbed to my feet and bolted for the trees, blah blah, bang bang, you know that bit. Once I was amongst the trees I ran north in a zigzag formation, it was never-ending, one tree after another.”

  I look down at the back of my hand. “Yes, in total, I ran for one thousand two hundred and ninety-four Mississippis. I think it was either the adrenaline that kept me going or the fear that Mr. Hump was chasing me on a quad bike or something, because there was no way I was fit enough to run that distance without a break."

  “Did you just run straight?”

  “That was the plan until I was stopped in my running tracks by a river. The tide was aggressive, so much so that the water was smashing up against the side of the river banks and flicking onto my feet and the surrounding grass. I had a moment of internal battle over whether to try to cross it or not. The other side was a stone’s throw away but that was potentially enough to kill me if I got swept away by the current. I quickly looked around to see if there was a bridge or stones to help me cross it but all I saw, both sides to where I was standing were. You guessed it. Trees.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I had come too far to let myself drown, so I turned to my left and ran along the side of the river for another four hundred and fifty Mississippis.” I quickly glance back at my hand,

  “Yes, that is correct. The gushing water made this beautiful, mellow sound, almost like I was jogging with headphones on, it was the most therapeutic thing I had heard in years. I kept going and going until I finally saw a road. There were no cars in sight, but it was my first bit of real hope. I fell to my knees and placed my palm on it; I was touching the road to my freedom and the thought of that gave me goosebumps. One tear trickled down my cheek, dropped onto the back of my hand, rolled down it and landed on the tarmac. That tear represented my future.”

  “Did you see what the road was called?”

  “No, I didn’t see a sign. Actually, it was more like a derelict country lane,” I reply.

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I crossed the bridge over the river and started to jog up the inclined hill. Thinking back, I should have jogged down the road as it nearly killed me, it was that steep. It didn’t take long for me to see this old-school diner; it was abandoned, but I wasn’t going to let that upset me even though I longed to see a new face. The diner was about one hundred and seventy-eight Mississippis from where I crossed the bridge. There was thick dirt on the windows that hadn’t been smashed in. I peeped my head through one of the broken ones and saw art plastered across all the walls. I mean, it wasn’t very good art. And, it was a bit rude in places which made me giggle, and it sure felt good to giggle. Lizzie would have found it hilarious. There was a sign hanging down with only the letters N and P, the rest must have fallen off, so sadly I do not know what the diner was called.

  “I caught my breath whilst I was nosing a
round the place, and I then continued to walk up the road for another two hundred and eighty Mississippis and that was when I took my next stop because I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. A car, I saw a moving car! It was the best feeling in the world to see a face that wasn’t Mr. Hump’s. I sprinted to chase after it, but I wasn’t quick enough, I watched it fade into the distance and then disappear. I tried to scream the word, ‘Help!’ My brain was telling me to, but the word wouldn’t come out of my mouth, I had lost my voice due to exhaustion. The cars were few and far between after that, and when I did see a car zooming past me it was as if I was invisible to them, even with my hands waving and the desperation plastered across my face they didn’t see me, no one saw me. I know I am wafer-thin, but I am still visible. Is this what humanity has come to, no one helps a damsel in distress?”

  “No, they were probably in a hurry. Everyone is in a hurry nowadays.” Mr. Detective states giving me a snapshot insight into modern living.

  “Fair enough. I suppose if you look at it from a different perspective it might have been a blessing in disguise that no one stopped to help me, as I got myself into this mess in the first place by taking help from a man in a passing van. Where was I? Oh yes, after the first car failed to stop I continued walking left for another one thousand one hundred and twenty-four Mississippis. In that time, I walked across six crossings and a few traffic lights. At that point, I knew I was getting close to proper civilisation.

  “I eventually stopped outside a coffee shop called Nino’s, the shop caught my attention because of the beautiful flowers they had outside. There were these little round fish bowls in the centre of their outside tables with hydrangeas bunched in them, they were exactly how Lizzie described them to me one night when we were talking about our favourite things. And they did not disappoint, they are a stunningly beautiful flower with their blue as blue can be petals. I can’t actually believe something so beautiful can grow in this world.

  “I reached my hand out to gently feel one of the petals, and as soon as my two fingers glazed the top of them I had this surge of emotions run through me. I felt sad with a sprinkle of guilt that I was getting to see the world again when Lizzie never will. I immediately walked away. I then arrived at my final destination four hundred Mississippis later: the shopping centre. It was full of hundreds of new faces. Seeing all those people made me feel safe, a feeling I never thought I would feel again. I sat on the side pavement and watched the world go by. It was near there that I was brought in by the police officer to you. I remember all this because I always pay attention to detail, I do not miss a trick, which is thanks to years of having nothing else to do but to observe and take note of everything.”

  “Was that an accurate or a guesstimate description of where you ran from?” questions the detective.

  “Excuse me. I’ll have you know it was an accurate account of my steps!” I reply.

  “Here look,” I add as I lift my hand from under the desk to show him the numbers I had scribbled down earlier when in the waiting area.

  “I was just asking,” the officer snaps back. I shuffle to the edge of my seat ready to prove to him my intellectual worth.

  “I’ll have you know I do not miss a trick,” I repeat.

  “Okay. Okay. I understand.” He attempts to defuse my anger, but it is too late, he has already insulted me.

  “Oh no. I will prove my point,” I confidently state whilst clearing my throat.

  “How?” he shuffles forward in his chair, tilts his head marginally to my left and raises his eye line looking directly into my eyes. Intrigue is oozing out of him.

  “In the waiting room out back, there are seven posters on the wall opposite the entrance. Three of the posters are tips on how to quit smoking and drugs, and four are about violence and reporting a crime. There are twelve chairs around the room, all facing the centre. When I was sitting in the waiting room there were four other people sitting down; two men, one woman and a child. The kind officer behind the desk had the name tag Jane attached to her white blouse, which was tucked into her black trousers. On her left trouser pocket, she had a tear along the stitching, probably from catching it every time she lifted her keys out and placed them back in. And in this room, the fourth-floor tile from the back-left corner has a hairline crack in it.”

  The detective swings round.

  “One, two, three, four,” he counts under his breath.

  “Now do you believe me?” I question.

  “Yes.”

  “So, can you send your officers to find the cottage?” I request.

  He looks over my right shoulder to the glass window behind me and nods, indicating to the people watching our interview to go and do their job instead of standing around with the jaws on the floor. I can’t see them, but they can see me, so their body language is a guess, but I am sure I am accurate with what their reactions are to our interview so far.

  Back to the Beginning

  “Do you remember how you ended up being held captive?” Mr. Detective asks setting the foundations for a different line of questioning.

  “For my sixteenth birthday, I received the best gift ever; money. So, I called Jen, my best friend at the time, to meet me for some retail therapy. I remember we went shop crawling for hours, and by the end of the day we were dragging our bags along behind us as we had bought that much. We completely lost track of time, and only realised how late it was getting when we saw the shops shutting. I knew I would be in big trouble for staying out late even though I only lived up the hill, so I quickly hugged Jen goodbye and left.”

  “Was that the night you got taken?”

  “Yes. I played that goodbye over and over in my head, thinking, why didn't I invite her for dinner, so we could have walked back to mine together? If I am honest, at times I felt myself hating Jen because I drew the short straw that night (of being abducted), and she didn’t (well I hope she didn’t). I had the, ‘Why me?’ question loom over me for a long time. But the truth is, we were both vulnerable that evening, but I was the one whose vulnerability was exploited.”

  “So, you hugged her goodbye and then what?”

  “I started power walking up the hill home, but within seconds it started to hammer down with rain, which soaked me through to my underwear almost instantaneously. Therefore, I had no choice but to start slowly jogging, which was not easy with all my bags. Beep. Beep. The noise was so close to me that it made me jump out of my drenched skin. I turned thinking it was my mum, but it wasn’t her black Ford Focus. She hadn't come to save me from catching my death from the weather. I stood there squinting my eyes trying to make out if I knew the van and driver. The van pulled closer to me and I was moments away from dropping my bags and running for my life, when the driver shouted, ‘Kate dear. Kate, it’s me.’ I will never forget those words.”

  “You knew your abductor?” quizzes the detective with this look of anger signalling that I should have led with that fact.

  “Sort of. I took a slight shuffle forward as the curiosity in me was overpowering my logical thinking process. I examined the driver’s face and quickly realised it was a semi-familiar one. I remembered I saw him speaking to my dad once before. Then, this kind smile took over his face as he asked me if I wanted dropping home to my parents. Of course, I went to decline his offer as I knew getting in a van with an all-but-stranger was a huge no-no. But, before I could even reply he pulled out his wallet and showed me this photo that was tucked inside. That photo was the reason I ended up a victim, as it made me lower my guard. It was a picture of him and my father, proudly holding this huge fish together that they had caught on one of their fishing expeditions. And I stupidly thought that meant he was a good friend of my dad’s, therefore making it safe for me to catch a ride home from him.”

  “So, he abducted you there and then?”

  “Sort of. He jumped out of his van and walked me round to the passenger side, helping me dodge the oncoming cars. I climbed in and everything seemed okay. He asked what
radio station I wanted on, and my request of listening to Capital was met. He even asked me what I had bought, and he seemed to take a real interest when I described the jumpers I had purchased to help fill up my winter wardrobe. We approached my road, and I was thrilled to nearly be home, so I could get out of my wet clothes. I even invited him to dinner as a surprise for my dad. He slowed down—”

  “And then what? I know this is painful but please go on.”

  “He went to turn into my road and then he suddenly turned the steering wheel forward and accelerated further up the hill. I was so confused at that point, so I leaned across and kindly said something like, ‘Excuse me, I live back there,’ and do you know what he replied? Because I remember it word for word. He said, ‘You actually think you are going home, young lady?’ Young lady! Even now it makes the hairs on the back my neck stand up. Not wanting to exaggerate but I think I had a mini heart attack after those words escaped his lips. I became hysterical, but all he did was turn the radio up to drown out my screams.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I desperately tried to open the passenger door, as I decided that a few broken bones from jumping out the van was worth it. The door swung open; I frantically tried to undo my seat belt to jump but it wouldn’t budge, I looked down and all I could see was this abnormally large hand holding the belt down with such force. I leaned my head down and tried to bite his arm, so he would let go but it was like he was made of steel, he didn’t even flinch when my teeth dug into his flesh. Instead, he completely let go of the steering wheel, reached down beside his seat and pulled out what looked like a hunting knife. I screamed, ‘I am sorry’, as I was petrified he was going to stab me to death. ‘Sit still and shut up!’ he continuously yelled whilst banging the steering wheel which further paralysed me with fear.