by Brook Wilder
“Please, please, just let me go,” she said, shaking.
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to see a pretty face like yours crying,” he said, wiping the tears off her face. She flinched at the very thought of him touching her, and at that point, she couldn’t stand to be this close to him. She started sobbing, holding her belly, as if to protect what was in it. She couldn’t let Simon harm her child, no matter what. The very thought of that made her want to die as much as the thought of something happening to Prescott drove her crazy. “Tell me, Della,” Simon said. “Why did you reject me?”
Della didn’t answer. She just looked straight ahead, not moving. She thought that maybe if she ignored him, he’d leave her alone. “Why did you reject me?” he asked again, holding her face in his hands. Della began to shiver. She clenched her eyes as she felt the baby kick, throwing her head back and beginning to take in deep breaths. “That’s right, you do whatever you can to protect that baby,” he said, eyeing her as she rubbed her belly for comfort. “You have no idea what I might do to him.”
“Don’t you dare come near my baby!” Della said, squirming away from him as he leaned in closer to her. “What do you want from me?” she asked, this time, her loud voice was beginning to attract the attention of the people passing by.
Simon waited for them to leave. “Shut up, shut up,” he said, kicking at the tires again and running to the back of his trunk. He popped it open, grabbed a rope and some duct tape, and came back, eyeing Della as she tried to squirm farther away from him. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “That’s just to make sure you don’t ruin everything. Everything I’ve done, everything that I’ve been planning… It’s come down to this.” He sat in the backseat next to her, tying her hands and her feet together and taping her mouth with a piece of duct tape. “That way you don’t get to ruin everything,” he whispered, that same sick smile still plastered to his face.
Della wiggled in her seat, her eyes wide in fear as she tried to anticipate his next move. She mumbled out a cry, but when Simon turned to her suddenly, she realized she’d better stay quiet. Attracting too much attention was probably not in her best interest.
“Now, I’m going to leave you here for a second,” he said, his head cocked to the side. He just stood there for a while, staring at her, as if waiting for some kind of response. My mouth is taped shut, you idiot, she thought to herself. How do you expect me to answer you?
She nodded, her eyes following him as he slammed the door shut and walked away from his car, making his way back in the direction of her house. Della thought she should try and free herself when she made sure he was gone, but then she realized it was too risky. So she just sat there, tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought about what the hell Simon was doing in there. He could be pulling out a steak knife and preparing to stab her with it, for all she knew. She tried mumbling a few things under the tape, to see how audible her cries would be, but when she realized that not even she could quite hear herself, she felt herself becoming more and more desperate. And she couldn’t keep her mind off Prescott, or the baby. She was scared shitless of what would happen to them, especially if she didn’t comply with Simon’s orders. Simon was a maniac, and Kate was right. She always was. Della leaned back in her seat, sighing loudly as she prayed for Simon to get hit by a truck on his way back. She felt herself cry out in desperation, but no cry was so audible as to grab the attention of anyone passing by. The windows to Simon’s car were tinted--Della wasn’t surprised--so she tried to think of a better way to get people to notice her. She looked around, her eyes following the road, but there was no body there. Everyone was at work, she thought, was there really anything left to do?
She thought about pounding at the windows, but she knew it would be useless. How was she going to get out of there when no one could even notice her? She leaned her head against the window, quietly sobbing as she felt the baby kick again. She was having so many contractions, more than what she was used to, and she knew for a fact she couldn’t just pop the door open and make a run for it. What if Simon came back? He would kill her. Time was going by, the clock was ticking…Della had to think fast.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Holy shit, holy shit,” Della said suddenly, her eyes landing on one of her neighbors. It was Mrs. Spellman, an old woman who lived on the street across from hers. Della’s eyes followed her as she stepped out into the driveway, slowly dragging her feet to the garbage can. She was carrying a big black garbage bag with her, tossing it into the trash bin and scanning the area around the house. Della started panicking. She leaned against the car door, pushing her weight down on the car handle and somehow managed to pop the door open. It inched open andDella gasped at the realization, and when she realized that Mrs. Spellman was done taking out the trash, she started to wiggle around in her place, trying to push the door further open with her foot. Her movement was limited, and she obviously couldn’t just throw herself out of the car and go rolling around in the street. She had to do whatever it took to care for her baby, even if that meant risking her own life. Mrs. Spellman had already turned around, making her way back into her house.
“Help, help!” Della screamed under the duct tape, her eyes growing wide as she realized her only witness had disappeared out of her sight. She began to shudder, and she started to kick at the door, her feet wiggling like an insect. She was moaning in utter desperation, in denial, almost, that Mrs. Spellman hadn’t noticed her. But to her surprise, the woman stepped out of the house again, another, smaller garbage bag in her hand. Della was determined. She leaned against the open car door, the weight of her body causing it to swing open. At that point, half of her body was protruding out of the car, the other half still stuck inside. She couldn’t get up or walk, or make a run for it. She couldn’t even scream. But what she could do was wiggle around like a worm for anyone to notice her. Mrs. Spellman didn’t have very good eyesight. Della could see her squint from afar, taking a couple of moments to discern what she was seeing, and then deciding it was nothing. She eventually turned around again, making her way back into the house. Della let out a loud sigh, her eyebrows furrowed and her forehead wrinkled. She was beginning to sweat profusely, and she cursed under her breath for letting two chances to escape slip away.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon said, popping his head in through the open door.
Della felt her heart jump out of her chest. She hadn’t seen Simon make his way back. She could’ve sworn he had appeared out of nowhere. He just stared at her, his eyes looking as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.
Della just mumbled. She just let half her body hang out of the car, her eyes darting back and forth frantically. “I’m sorry,” she tried to mumble under the duct tape. “I’m sorry.”
Simon kicked at the tires. His face turned red, his eyes rolled around and his breath grew heavy. Della had never felt so terrified in her life. So she pulled her body back into the car, shrinking away as Simon’s eyes remained fixated on her. What was he planning on doing? And what had he gone into her house to do? “This can’t happen,” Della heard him whisper under his breath. Before she could make anything of it, Simon bolted across to the other side of the street, slowing down in front of Mrs. Spellman’s house. She opened her eyes in horror as he knocked on the woman’s door and waited.
Mrs. Spellman dragged her feet to the door. She didn’t even look through the peephole, she just inched the door open and popped her head outside, smiling at Simon, who smiled back. “Good morning, young man,” she said in her shaky voice. “What can I do for you?”
Simon’s lips curved to a smile. “Well, actually, this is a bit embarrassing,” he began. “But my car broke down over there and I need to use the bathroom,” he continued, his eyes dropping to the floor.
Mrs. Spellman smiled. “Have you been waiting on a mechanic?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s on his way, actually,” Simon improvised. “But my car has been like this since the night before, I had to
spend the night until I could call someone to come fix it.”
Mrs. Spellman frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, son,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed. “Where are you from?”
“I’m from Dickinson,” Simon said, looking straight at her. It was as if he had rehearsed all of this, like he knew he was going to run into her. Simon paused, staring at the woman, who stared back at him. Her eyes were wide with compassion, a part of her wanting to take him into her home and make him a cup of coffee. She seemed like a lonely old woman looking for company. The perfect target, Simon thought.
“Oh, I hear it’s lovely there!” the woman said, her lips curving to a smile.
“It is, you should really organize a visit there,” he paused for a second, his eyes fixated on the old woman. “With your husband, perhaps?”
Mrs. Spellman frowned. “Oh, my husband isn’t here... He died years ago,” she said, her voice trailing off.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Simon said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “What about your kids, maybe they can take you there sometime?” he asked, putting his hands together. At that point, Della was going crazy. She was watching them from afar, wishing she could get the attention of the poor old woman, but she knew that, if she were to do anything else, Simon would end her.
Mrs. Spellman frowned again. “Well, Brian, my son, he lives in Florida with his wife and kids... He only comes down here on the holidays,” she said. “And my daughter, Meg, well, she doesn’t visit me at all,” she continued.
Simon nodded slowly. His eyes kept scanning her house, and when he made sure that no one was there, smiled at her in anticipation.
“Oh, you need to use the restroom, I almost forgot!” Mrs. Spellman said, her hand flying to her mouth. “Come on in.”
“Thank you so much,” Simon said, stepping in through the door. “You want me to close the door?” he asked, his head cocked to the side.
“It would be better, yes,” she said, making her way into the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked, disappearing into the hall.
“Sure,” Simon said. “If you don’t mind, where’s the bathroom?” he asked, his eyes darting back and forth. He wanted to plan his way out of there.
“Oh, it’s upstairs, to your left,” Mrs. Spellman said, grabbing a fresh pack of sugar off the kitchen counter.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Simon said, stealing one last glance of her before he could make his way upstairs. He hurried down the hallway, stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. It’s done, there’s no other way, he thought, pacing the bathroom like a maniac. I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this, he thought as he sat down on the toilet, his hands clasped in his lap. He took in a deep breath as he peered out of the window, watching for his car. Della was still in there, panicking at the very thought of not being able to see where he was. “I’m right here, baby,” he said to no one in particular, his lips coming to a smile as he thought about getting with Della. It had occurred to him that he did nothing but fantasize about her, about being with her. Like it was his sole purpose in life. To him, it was worth it. She was worth it. He wanted Della and only Della, and he was going to stop at nothing until he had her. Simon got up, clutching at the pocket of his jeans as he stormed out of the bathroom, his eyes rolling around frantically as he hurried down the steps.
“Young man,” Mrs. Spellman said, stepping out into the living room. “I made you some coffee.”
Simon cocked his pistol, pointed it at her and fired two shots. The woman fell back, the tray she was carrying falling with her, and Simon watched as the coffee mug shattered on the floor. In a couple of seconds she would be lying on her back, flat as land, in a pool of her own blood. Simon didn’t have a second to spare. He swung the front door open and walked calmly to his car, his pace natural, so as not to draw any attention to himself. Mrs. Spellman was a lonely old woman, so he thought it would probably seem suspicious to the neighbors if they saw him run out of her house like a crazy person.
Della jumped in her place when she heard what sounded to her like a gunshot. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she mumbled, shivering. She knew this would happen. She felt her heart pound like a jackhammer. What was Simon going to do to her? He already killed off the only witness she may have had, so what was she supposed to do now? He had the nerve to gun down an old woman in her eighties, so why not her?
No, he can’t do that. He won’t do that, she thought to herself. After all, she knew Simon was obsessed with her. Just as long as she doesn’t provoke him, he can’t do anything to hurt her, right? Della’s eyes grew wide as she spotted him from afar, heading back to his car. She turned around and looked straight ahead, not blinking. This was all too much for her to handle, the man was crazy.
Simon popped the car door open, slipped into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. “We need to get out of here,” he said, mostly to himself. He had the habit of muttering things to no one in particular.
Della could feel herself hyperventilating. She tried not to move too much; at that point, there was no telling what Simon could do next. His gun was still in his pocket, and every once in a while, Della could see him trace his fingers over the bulge that was his pistol.
“What are you saying back there?!” Simon asked suddenly, turning around. Della’s eyes grew wide as she watched him swerve off the road and almost drive into a tree.
“Careful!” Della mumbled under the tape. She was terrified. Simon was driving like a madman; she could bet anything he didn’t even know where he was going. But he needed to get away, as far away as he possibly could from Mrs. Spellman’s house. Della could hear him talking and cursing under his breath as the car sped down a highway. Where was he taking her? Did he even know where he was going?
“Don’t you tell me to be careful,” he spat. “We needed to get out of there.” Simon was losing it. His fear of getting caught was taking over, and she could see him lose control over what he was doing by the second. Had anyone else heard the gunshots? Of course they had. The neighborhood was awfully quiet, and there was no way a bang like that could’ve gone unnoticed. Suddenly, Simon stepped on the brakes, pulling over at the side of the road. It was a desert road, almost completely empty. He popped the car door open, walking up to Della and just stood there, staring at her. Della shrunk away. She wished she would die before he could do anything to her. He turned around and walked away, eventually stopping at the side of the road and unzipping his pants. Della realized he was peeing.
She shuddered in disgust. There had to be a way she could get out of there. Simon zipped up his pants, wiped his hands over his shirt and then started towards the car again. The silence was killing Della. He opened the door for her, looking at her momentarily before he pulled out his gun. Della started panicking.
“Please, please, no!” she muttered.
“What was that, now?” Simon asked, his head cocked to the side. “Listen up,” he said, pointing the gun to her belly. “I’m going to un-tape your mouth, but if you try any funny tricks like you did last time, you’re dead,” he spat.
Della nodded. She could feel the tears gathering in her eyes, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Shut up!” Simon said, tearing the tape off. Della jumped in pain, clenching her eyes and squirming away in her seat. “Now, I don’t want you to utter a word, do you hear me?” he asked, his eyes locked on hers. Della nodded, and when he slid back into the driver’s seat and put his gun down next to him, she let out a sigh and was able to breathe again.
“W-where are you taking me?” Della asked, her voice trembling. She couldn’t help herself, she needed to know where they were going.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Simon asked, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. There was a pause. “I’m taking you to Al,” Simon hissed.
Della let out a gasp. “Al?” she jumped. “What does he have to do with this? What do you have to do with someone like him?” she asked, unable to control her
rambling.
“I wasn’t planning on telling you before we got there, but just watching you panic is worth it, in my opinion... You wanna know why I’m taking you to Al, Della?”
Della didn’t say anything.
“You wanna know why?” he groaned. “Because you’re going to watch Prescott die, Della. You’re going to watch him die.”
Della felt her heart sink. She clenched her eyes, clutched at her stomach and threw her head back, trying to breathe.
“There something wrong, back there? We wouldn’t want you going into labor right now, that’s pretty inconvenient.”
Della moaned in horror. Her mind went blank; she couldn’t even begin to gather her thoughts. She couldn’t process what Simon had just told her. It all seemed so surreal to her, like it was all just one big nightmare, one big joke that was bound to end. “Please, please don’t do this,” she cried out in desperation. “Where are you taking me?”
“Didn’t I already say? I’m taking you to Al, Della. So you can watch him kill your precious Prescott, the father of your child!”