“Viola?” Mar whimpers, and I snap out of my frozen haze.
Abbie pulls a gun from behind her back and points it at me. My heart leaps into fast drive as I shove Mar behind me.
“I know how to use this.” She pushes away from the SUV. “Get in. You’re driving.”
I look at the gun, then glance around the small beach parking lot. Night has settled in and everyone’s gone. One lone car sits a few spaces down. I squint, but don’t see anyone inside. On the other side of the lot is the path that leads to our campground.
I consider running. Would Abbie really shoot us?
“Don’t even think about it,” she says.
Behind me, Mar trembles. I pull her around and hug her tight to my side. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Abbie opens the driver’s door. “Get in.”
I try to push Mar in ahead of me, but Abbie grabs her. “She’s in the back with me.”
“No,” Mar cries.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Just do what she says.”
Abbie shoves Mar in the back, I close the driver’s door, and over the seat she hands me the keys.
I jab the keys in the ignition, glad for the steady hands.
Abbie presses the gun to my ear. “Drive south.”
I glance at Mar in the rearview mirror. Silent tears trail her cheeks, and it just about wrenches my heart out. I give her a bolstering look, before turning a glare to Abbie. “Get the gun off my head.”
Her upper lip snarls. “I can put it to Mar’s if you’d prefer.”
Mar whimpers, and anger spurts in me that Abbie’s caused it. I will make her pay for that.
I put the SUV in gear and drive off. “Where are we going?”
Abbie snickers. “You’ll see.”
“If we’re going to be driving far, you’ll have to get gas,” I point out, so glad to have my wits focused.
Abbie glances at the tank monitor, irritation registers, and she presses the gun firmer to my head. “Shut the hell up and drive.”
I do and use the time to concentrate and remember the self-defense videos I watched. The moves I practiced. Abbie’s bigger than me. I’d say six-two and 180. I have no clue if I can take her, but I sure am going to try. But what the hell? Abbie’s the one who has being doing all this stuff to me? Why? This can’t be just about Riel.
“Here,” she prompts, and I turn right onto a sandy road.
Simmons Lane. I note the sign.
“All the way to the end,” she directs.
I pull around the back of a small, dilapidated house sitting dark, isolated, and surrounded by trees. Does Riel realize we’re missing yet?
“I had no idea there were houses back here,” I say, purposefully making idle conversation to hide the fact I’m rattled to the core.
“Would you shut up?” Abbie spits. “What do you think you’re on, a sight-seeing tour?”
I almost smile. My fake confident demeanor is working, and that makes me ever more assured in my skills.
I give Mar another glance to see her shaking, but not crying.
“Get out,” Abbie orders. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
I open the driver’s door and reach for Mar as soon as Abbie shoves her out. She latches onto my hand with a death grip.
Abbie aims the gun at me. “Move.”
Hugging Mar close to my side, I walk toward the back door and at the same time survey the area. Garden tools sit propped against the side of the house, a hose snakes around a picket, a beach chair and boogie board take up one corner of the porch, and lots of bricks litter the walkway.
Mar trips on a brick, and I look down into her tear-filled eyes. I squeeze her shoulders and give her a reassuring look, noting the loose brick. I might be able to use that later.
We enter through the back door, and my gaze immediately falls on the preparations. Obviously, Abbie’s already been here. Ropes and handcuffs lie on top of a steel chair situated in the middle of the living room.
I divert my eyes from her materials, survey the rest of the place, and catch sight of a cell phone on the table near the door.
If she ties me up, our chance of escape will be limited. The element of surprise always works in favor of the victim. If I’m going to make a move, it needs to be now before she gets the upper hand.
Glancing over my shoulder, I note Abbie’s location—two feet behind me and to the left. As fast as I can, I spin, kick her in the kneecap, and then punch her straight in the throat.
With a groan, she hunches forward.
I grab Mar’s hand and sprint for the front door. I jiggle the dead bolt and yank on the knob, but it doesn’t budge. A key. I need a key. I turn and smack right into Abbie’s chest.
I shove Mar behind me, sandwiching her up against the door.
“You stupid whore.” Abbie backhands me across the face.
My head flies to the left, and I snap it right back. Oh, she’s going down for that.
She grabs my wrists, and I fight back, thrashing, tugging, and pulling against her as she drags me over to the chair and handcuffs me to it.
Mar screams and lunges at her, and Abbie shoves her hard, sending her stumbling across the room.
“If you hurt one single hair on her head, I will kill you,” I threaten.
“Is that so? Let’s see about that.” She crosses to Mar, jerks her up, and drags her kicking and screaming from the room.
Chapter Sixty-Two
My heart races as Abbie pulls Mar to the back of the house. Mar screams right before I hear Abbie slam a door.
I yank and pull at the cuffs fastened around my wrists, and another scream from Mar pierces the air. Throwing all my weight to the left, the heavy chair topples over. I twist and contort my body, ignoring the metal biting into my skin, and use my legs to inch my way across the room.
I reach the door that Abbie drug Mar through and kick it over. And over. And over again. “Abbie!”
She opens it, and I look past her to find Mar on the floor, curled in a tiny ball with duct tape on her mouth, wrists, and legs.
“I hurt a hair on her head,” Abbie sings, waving something in front of my face.
I focus on the swaying object, slowly realizing it’s Mar’s hair.
My gaze darts back into the room and zeroes in on the choppy spikes sticking out all over her head.
“You bitch!” I kick toward Abbie’s shin. “What is wrong with you?”
Dodging my kick, she skirts around me, grabs the chair I’m cuffed to, and pulls me back down the hall.
I grit my teeth so I don’t scream at the pain biting through my shoulders, arms, and wrists.
“I tried to be nice to you.” She stops dragging the chair, and leaning down, she grabs my hair. “But you’re just like the others.” She yanks my head back.
I glare up at her. What the hell is she talking about? “Just like what others?”
“Where do I start? Oh, I know. How about Elle, the whore who stole my dad from our family. My mom’s never recovered from the divorce. Or how about that stupid Hanna that accused my brother of putting Rohypnol in her drink. He didn’t, you know. Then there’s Isabel, the girl who stole my boyfriend. I loved him! And she just took him from me. They’re all just like you.” She sneers. “And I made each one of them pay.”
“Abbie…” She’s lost her mind. “What do you mean you made them pay?” What the hell did she do to these other girls?
She tightens the grip on my hair, and I cringe. “To think I tried to be nice to you. You knew I liked Riel. He was the first guy I loved since everything that happened with Isabel.”
“Abbie, I’m not any of those girls. You’ve got to stop this.”
Abbie taunts me with the scissors and then reaches back, and before it registers what she’s about to do, she whacks my hair right off.
“No!” I bring my feet up and kick her hard in the thighs and she staggers away.
She comes right back at me, and I do the only thing I can
, I keep kicking. My legs are the only thing loose. They’re my only weapon.
Abbie tries to grab them, and I kick harder, aiming for any part of her body I can reach. I get her in the shin. Then in the stomach. In her groin. Her thigh.
“Stop!” she yells, lunging for my legs.
With an adrenaline-pumped scream, I kick again and land my heel hard into her ribs. She hunches over, and I thrust my other foot into her face.
Blood spurts from her nose and I kick her again, and I keep kicking, meeting more air than anything as she backs away and falls to her knees. Wiping her nose, she glares at me, and breathing heavy I glare back. Ready. Ready for whatever she’s going to give me.
Then Mar rushes in, a lamp between her hands, and with a muffled scream, she hits Abbie in the head. Glass shatters and Abbie falls forward to her hands. Mar lifts the lamp, and with another muted scream, she hits Abbie again. The rest of the lamp falls completely apart and Abbie slumps to the floor, grabbing her head and groaning.
Shaking, Mar picks up a piece of broken glass and lifts it high above her head.
“No!” I yell.
Panting, Mar freezes.
“Don’t,” I tell her.
Slowly, Mar lowers the glass and then she drops it and rushes toward me. She’s still got duct tape over her mouth and around her little wrists. I don’t know how she got it off her legs. But none of that stopped her from picking up a lamp and rushing in here. What a brave girl.
She throws her arms around my neck and sobs into my hair.
“Mar,” I say, glancing to Abbie who is now huddled on her knees, her head in her hands, rocking and moaning. “Mar, you’ve got to listen.”
Sniveling she pulls away and lifts her duct taped wrists to pick away the tape covering her mouth.
I nod to the phone I first saw on the table when we came in. “Get that phone and get out of here. Call 911.”
She gets the tape off her mouth and crying, hugs me again. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Mar.” I firm my voice, glancing again to Abbie. “Look at me.”
She sniffs and pulls away. “Grab the phone and run. Call 911.”
“No,” she cries and burrows into me. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’ve got to do this.”
Mar hugs me tighter.
“Have I ever lied to you about anything?”
She shakes her head.
“So, if I tell you everything is going to be okay, do you believe me?”
Mar nods.
“I’m so proud of you. You’re so brave. I need you to keep being brave for me. Can you do that?”
She pulls away and with trembling lips, mumbles, “Okay, but maybe we can find the keys to your cuffs.”
“We don’t have time for that. Please listen to me.” I need Mar out of here. I need her safe.
Mar glances over to Abbie, who isn’t moaning any more, but she’s still huddled with her head in her hands.
“Don’t worry. She’s not moving any time soon. You hit her hard,” I assure her, hoping to God I’m right. “Mar, please go. Go!”
She jumps into action, grabbing the cell, giving me one last hug, and running from the house.
When the back door closes, I blow out a shaky breath. Mar’s free.
I look back to Abbie, still with her head in her hands. Mar must have hit her good. I look around for the gun she came in with and I don’t see it. I glance around the room some more and an idea forms. The broken lamp. My feet are free. I can wedge a shard between my feet and use it as a weapon.
Abbie groans again, and I freeze.
A couple of seconds go by as I hold my breath and stare, but she doesn’t move.
I hop my chair toward the broken lamp, and with another groan, she stirs.
No!
I stretch my leg out as far as it’ll go, toe a chunk of lamp toward me, and slowly, Abbie begins to lift her head.
I scramble with my foot and the broken lamp, trying to get the shard.
Her hands slide away from her head, and I see they are covered in blood. Mar definitely hit her good. Abbie turns her head and looks right at me, and a trail of blood trickles from her scalp. I know she sees what I’m doing, but I still clamber for the broken glass as she slowly stands to her full height.
She staggers over. Right foot. Left. Right. Then she lifts her left foot and slams it right down on my ankle.
I scream as pain ricochets up my leg.
“Don’t you realize we could’ve been friends?” she slurs.
“Why in hell would you think I’d want to be your friend? You’re insane!”
“I’m. Not”—Abbie sluggishly reaches down and grabs my injured foot—“insane.”
Clenching my teeth, I go to kick again, but she yanks my ankle so hard I hear a pop.
Full-blown, chest closing in, tunnel-vision pain spirals through me. My vison blurs from black to white and back again. Nausea shoots straight up from my stomach. Throbbing pain engulfs me. Somewhere just on the cusp of consciousness I’m aware of her securing my legs and ankles together with large zip ties.
I’m completely immobile now. Defenseless. I can’t fight back. She’s going to kill me.
“You didn’t even thank my brother for the flowers,” she mumbles.
My ankle throbs. My wrists pound. I want to fight. But I can’t do anything. She’s not listening. She’s lost in her own twisted head.
She turns away and pauses a second to steady herself before going to retrieve a rope lying on the floor.
My heart stops.
“Insane,” she slurs, coming toward me. “I’ll show you insane.”
I try to hop the chair away, but Abbie just follows me, stalks me, and whatever fog lingering in her brain from being hit seems to lift as she becomes more and more excited with my struggle.
She digs her fingernails into the crown of my head, and the blood dripping from her scalp trickles onto my face as she slowly begins winding the rope around my neck.
“Please,” I wheeze, fighting her hold.
But the harder I struggle, the dizzier I become and the tighter she pulls.
Tingling starts in my fingers, and then my toes. Slowly, the tingling creeps up my arms and legs. I close my eyes and images flood my mind…reading to my twin sisters…building a snowman with Levi…teaching Mar to French braid…lying with Riel under the stars…
The back door crashes open. I register the sound, shouting, pressure around my neck easing, grunts, the floor beneath me shaking.
Slowly I open my eyes.
Riel.
He throws Abbie against the wall, and her head cracks hard against the wood planks. He rears back, ready to throw a punch, but her body slowly slides down the wall, and I watch as her head lulls to her chin. She’s out.
Riel rushes over to me. With shaky, quick hands, he unravels the rope from my neck. “Viola, it’s me. Can you breathe?”
I nod.
A rush of breath escapes him. He cradles my face between his hands, and his gaze tracks over the blood. He starts searching, trying to figure out where it’s coming from.
“It’s Abbie’s,” I tell him, glancing hesitantly over to her. She is definitely not moving.
Riel wipes the blood away with his shirt, and he soothes my hair from my face. He places a quick kiss to my lips, and I start to cry. “Shh, it’s going to be okay. Let’s get you unlocked. Where’re the keys?”
“I don’t know.” I sniff and glance again to Abbie. “Is she dead?”
“I don’t know,” he says, “and right now I don’t care.”
“Where’s Mar?”
“I put her in my Jeep. She called me and I dialed 911. The police should be here any minute.”
He goes about checking my wrists and the handcuffs, then surveys my throat where the rope was. The whole time he does, I stare at Abbie. I don’t think she’s breathing. My gaze travels the length of her body and back up. She’s really still. It’s then that I see the keys, stickin
g out of her front pocket.
“Riel.” I nod toward Abbie. “The keys to my cuffs are right there in her pocket.”
He gives me another quick kiss before scooting across the wood-planked floor to where Abbie still lies. He reaches for the keys sticking out of her pocket, and everything that happens next is a blur.
Abbie’s hand flies out, and she grabs Riel’s arm at the exact second she yanks a gun from behind her back and points it at his head. I scream. Riel freezes. And Abbie lets out an evil giggle. Then the back door flies open, and the cops barrel through with guns drawn. I hear shouting, but I don’t know who it’s coming from. A gun goes off, and for a terrifying few seconds, I stop breathing as I try to figure out who just got shot. There’s blood next to Abbie and Riel, but I don’t know whose blood it is. They’re surrounded now by cops, and I can’t see. I can’t see!
Time freezes as my heart bangs heavy and hard. I’m aware of people moving around me. I’m aware of people talking, but I can’t comprehend anything going on. Then a couple of the cops move aside and Riel comes toward me.
Relief slams into me, and I sob. “Riel. Oh my God. Riel.”
He comes down in front of me. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“I thought you’d been shot.”
“No, no I’m okay. It’s Abbie.” Riel looks up at the cops. “Someone get her unlocked!” he yells.
So much happens after that. A cop rushes over, my handcuffs are removed, an unconscious and bloody Abbie is hauled off, a medic is examining me, and Riel won’t leave my side.
Cops fill the room. Pictures are taken. Mar’s hair is bagged. My hair is bagged. Evidence is collected. The whole time, though, all I can do is stare at the steel chair, the blood smears, and the handcuffs dangling from the prongs.
Finally, the medic affirms, “She definitely broke your ankle.”
Now that the adrenaline is fading, I slowly become aware of the deep, dull ache.
Riel tucks me securely against his side and watches as the medic carefully puts a temporary splint on me. Then I’m put on a gurney and taken from the house.
When we emerge, Mar sprints toward me, tears streaming down her face. She flies into Riel’s arms, and leaning down, he wraps his arms around both of us. He runs his hand over Mar’s choppy hair and buries his face into my neck.
Watching You Page 20