Amber Alert (Amber Alert Series Book 1)

by Sara Schoen

  "I guess you'll be getting your 'welcome home' another day," he eventually said as he pulled away, pleased at what he had accomplished so far as he untied me.

  "Now, if you behave like that from now on you'll do well, but if you break any of my rules you'll be strictly punished," he said as I glanced around the house hoping to find an escape route. The front door was out since he had to pound on it a few times to open it, there was no way someone my size could open it.

  "What rules?" I asked, moving slowly around the room to look for another exit. There was nothing, literally. I think there was a grand total of ten pieces of furniture in the downstairs area. I could see four chairs a torn apart kitchen along with a round table, the chair I was just in, a sofa and a lounge chair in the den, there was a table in the hallway next to me and another arm chair behind me.

  "The good housewife rules."

  He grabbed my wrist and dragged me through the bare rooms of the house. I could hear the echoing clap of my footsteps on the floor as I was forced to follow him to a set of stairs. The stairs led up to a second floor, which had a main room, and then three smaller rooms connected to it. The large window in the main room was boarded up, I would never see daylight again or know if it was night time.

  I swallowed my screams as he started pulling me toward one of the rooms. He forced the door open, causing it to slam into the wall behind it, and shoved me into the room. My head hit the floor and I screamed out in pain as I heard him slap something onto the walls behind me. When he was finished he slammed the door shut and clicked the lock into place.

  I rubbed my head as tears streamed down my face from the pain and fear that was welling up inside of me. The room was as empty as the house, it had one bed and nothing else. There were no windows or wallpaper—I was stuck in a concrete box!

  I looked around the room hoping to find something else, but I only found more trouble. The only other thing in the room besides the bed and a closet door was a row of pictures that hung on the wall. There were thirteen girls’ pictures including mine, which he had just taken.

  All of us were in the same position, tied to a chair with our clothes and hair tousled from the drive to the house. I shivered as I stared at girl number twelve's picture; it was Jennifer Hastings. Her long brown hair fell over her face slightly as she sat in the chair. I had seen her Amber Alert only a few hours ago, and no one had found her while she was in the house with this man. Was there any hope for me, unlucky number thirteen?

  Chapter 2

  I watched as Andy fell to the ground, the blood pooling on his chest, the breath torn out of his lungs and the warmth of his eyes turned stone cold in front of me. I screamed, pained by the loss. I hit my head hard, forcing me to wake up. My hand instantly touched a concrete wall, instead of the pillows I had on my bed at home.

  It was dark, but I knew where I was. In that same plain room he had shown me yesterday or earlier today. I needed a window, or a clock, to tell the time. It was always dark here, like death. I shivered as I remembered the darkness in Andy's eyes.

  He died the second that bullet pierced his skin, it could have gone right through his heart. I killed him; it's all my fault! If I had shown up late or just gone to his house instead, he would still be alive, and I wouldn't be here. It was all my fault!

  I cried until I ran out of tears. My eyes grew used to the darkness of the room. I was able to see the photos of the other twelve girls that had been here before me. Hoping that their pictures would come to life and offer some advice or explanation to why and how to survive this, I got up to examine them. Of course, I knew the photos wouldn’t offer assistance, but I needed something to hope for.

  I looked at each picture closely and regretted it instantly. They all had the same expression of fear and pain and had tear-stained faces. Next to the pictures was a piece of paper, 'The Good Housewife Rules' was scribbled across it.

  "The what?"

  There was a hard pounding on the door that almost caused me to jump out of my skin before he walked into the room. He was almost a foot taller than me, wasn’t built, but was stronger than me. His eyes pierced into mine with an emotion that I didn't recognize, but feared instantly.

  "Come with me Kelly," he said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the stairs. The window was letting in very small amounts of sunlight through the cracks in the boards. Usually mornings were so beautiful to me.

  "I'm not Kelly," I said weakly, tired from crying and screaming. As I took a step down the stairs I felt a hard shove on my back. My body leaned too far forward, and my feet left the ground. I hit stairs with my shoulder before I started rolling down to the bottom until I finally hit the floor with a thud.

  "You're Kelly," he growled angrily in my ear before he stepped over my crushed body and broken spirit and walked away from me. I didn't want to move, I couldn't even if I tried, it hurt too much. My shoulder felt like I had dislocated it, my head was pounding, and my leg felt like it had pins and needles sticking into it.

  I let out a short breath meant to be a chuckle; the hospital would have a field day with me if I showed up. I had a feeling that wasn't an option here as it was at home; I went at least once a year for something. I'd be lucky to get a band-aid here I thought, as I laid there and let tears escape my eyes. Everything hitting me once again, Andy's death, my kidnapping, my injuries, all of it my fault.

  "Kelly, come make breakfast now!" The man yelled. I couldn't be sure where he was since the house was so empty that the noise resonated from everywhere at once. His booming voice made my head spin worse than before; I definitely had a concussion.

  "Kelly! You do as I say!" he shouted as he stomped his way back over to me. I felt his hand clasped on to a large chunk of my hair then forced me off the ground. "Now make breakfast for me and the boy!"

  "Who?" I asked through tears as I was pushed me through the house

  "Our son, Kelly," he said putting me in front of a beat up refrigerator. I could hear him walking back up the stairs and took a chance. I started to wobble toward the front door. I had to try to open it.

  I stumbled, using the walls to keep my balance and guide me to the door. I blankly stared up the staircase, scared of his threats and power, but I had to try to escape.

  "It won't work." I heard a new voice say as my hand caught hold of the doorknob. I barely heard the voice, I thought I had made it up at first than I heard the person take a few steps toward me. Their feet sounded like they were sticking to the floor, it reminded me of when I walked barefoot at home.

  "Are you going to stop me?" I whispered back to the new voice, still unsure if it was my imagination.

  "No. I'm just stating a fact," a male voice said nonchalantly. Of course, anyone in this house wouldn't care. They are as tainted as the man that brought me here and that led to my entrapment I thought as I attempted to pull the door open.

  I pulled with everything I had in me, but it didn't move. I tried again, but still the door refused to budge. It wanted to hold me in this prison as much as the man upstairs did.

  "I told you so," the young voice said as the person padded away lightly toward the kitchen.

  I let a few tears slip down my cheeks before my legs gave in and I collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. It hurt to stand and hurt to even think of moving back into the kitchen. My leg hurt from the fall, my head was spinning and I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own without some support.

  "Kelly, you better be making breakfast! I can't be late because of you again!" The man yelled down at me sending my head into a frenzy. If I didn’t follow the order I would be punished, as he had threatened previously, so I only had one choice. I forced myself up from the floor and walked back into the kitchen with the wall as my crutch. I quickly started to make a breakfast with eggs and bacon, the only things I knew how to make since I had been unable to practice at home.

  "Who are you?" I heard the male voice ask from behind me. Why was this person always behind me? I turned around to see a handsome you
ng man with chestnut brown hair standing behind me. I gasped, he reminded me of Andy, the pain in his eyes was one of suffering and I saw the sign of death.

  I let out a sharp sob that scared the young man before me. His eyes widened in shock and he rushed to my side to catch me before I fell.

  "I'm sorry I scared you! But please you have to get up! I know you're tired, but you have to or we are both in trouble," the young man pushed. The terror in his voice made me think he was trapped here like I was. "Here, let me help you stand up," he whispered in my ear as he gently lifted me from the ground and put me on my feet again. I slightly cringed at the touch of his white hands, they reminded me of the man who took me.

  "Who are you?" I asked as I tried to focus through the double vision.

  "I'm Garrett,” he said sadly as he propped me up by the stove and started to throw ingredients into a pan. As he watched the food cook he would occasionally glance at me, touch my arm gently and attempt to sooth me. His soft brown eyes looked me over, they were filled with worry and I saw a flick of another emotion, but he blinked it away and turned around before I could read it.

  "Garrett, where are we?" I asked as my head got heavier than the rest of me. I was about to pass out if I didn't sit down soon.

  "I don't know,” he said with a sigh as he slouched over the stovetop. He immediately stood up straighter when he heard the footsteps coming back down the stairs. "When he comes down, just put it in front of him and say nothing unless you're talked to,” he said as he bolted from my side and sat at a seat at the table.

  He actually went fully around the table and sat at a seat carefully, as if it was assigned to him.

  "So who are you?" Garrett asked curiously once he sat down and let some of the tension leave his body. He roughed up his light brown hair, just as something to do.

  "She's your mother you idiot." The man walked into the room and took the seat at the head of the table. I turned around and slid some of the scrambled eggs that Garrett had prepared onto the man's plate and then onto Garrett's.

  Garrett offered me a lopsided smile to offer comfort and so that his father wouldn't see, but all it did was make me want to cry. Why didn't he help me escape? Why did he live here? How long had he been here anyway?

  "Dad," Garrett said, but stopped when the man put up one of his hand to silence him.

  "She's your mother, now shut up and eat what she feeds you!" I just stood at the stove, playing with the eggs for a while. I was afraid to sit down and deathly afraid of the man behind me. What was going to happen to me here? Would anyone know what happened to me? Would I be killed? Would I ever see my family again?

  I heard a chair squeak as someone got up from the table. There was a clinking as the person put the dishes in the sink. I glanced to see Garrett standing at the sink with pain written across his face as he looked at me. He mouthed 'I'm sorry' to me before he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my kidnapper.

  "Now you may sit and eat with me," the man said, pushing out a chair that was next to him for me to sit in.

  I took my steps carefully, afraid of what would happen if I fell and dropped the food on the floor. Would the man get angry? Would I be beaten? I wish I could know what to expect or maybe I didn't want to know.

  "I suppose by now you've read the Good Housewife rules, correct?" the man asked, attempting to take my hand when I sat down. I moved my hand away from him. I feared his touch and his actions the most. I had loved Andy, and I repaid him by getting him shot. I shook my head, afraid to speak and say the wrong thing.

  "It's how you'll act while you're here. Starting with making breakfast, don't make me wait again." He growled as he slid a piece of paper in front of me with twelve rules on it. They were the same ones from the paper in my room. I felt a shiver run down my spine, he was really serious about these rules.

  1. Do as you're told.

  2. Have all meals ready for me when I get home.

  3. Make sure the house stays clean.

  4. Never speak out of turn or back talk.

  5. Do not argue. I'm right, you're wrong.

  6. You belong to me and only me.

  7. You take care of the house, I provide for the family.

  8. You do not leave the house unless told so.

  9. You treat me like a loving husband, I will be one.

  10. Take care of the kid, he follows similar rules.

  11. Never tell me no! See rule 1.

  12. Do not try to hurt me, I over power you.

  If any of these rules are broken, punishment will ensue.

  I stared at the paper speechless and was slowly torn to pieces at every word I read. My life, my freedom, and the love of my life thus far had been stripped away from me all at once. I felt tears coming to my eyes as I heard another chair squeak. The man slowly rose from the table, leaving his dishes on the table. Rule three, make sure the house stays clean. I pulled away when he tried to give me a kiss on the cheek, causing him to growl and hit the table angrily before he went back upstairs.

  Time trickled by as I sat staring at his empty plates. I knew what I was supposed to do, but I couldn't bring myself to do it for some reason. My mind was blank, empty of everything, I was becoming a shell of a person. I just wanted to go home, but there was little hope for that and with each passing moment, my hope ran out like sand in an hourglass.

  I could hear footsteps start coming down the stairs, there was a distinct clunk of shoes hitting the hard wood floors. I heard them enter the room, stop for a moment, and then come up behind me. I tensed, my heart pounded as a hand came down on my shoulder.

  "You have to clean this up before he comes!" I just looked at Garrett like he had grown a second head. Although, with my double vision most times he had two heads. I was caught in Garrett's eyes, I felt my lips start to tremble as I fought to hold back tears.

  I was thrilled that it hadn't been my kidnapper that came down the stairs. I would have been punished, he would have been angry with me for not following the rules already.

  "Did you hear me?" Garrett asked growing angry with my silence.

  I nodded to show that I heard him, but I couldn't do much else. I was still in shock and tense with fear.

  "Then get up and start cleaning. He will really lose his temper if you don't follow the rules," Garrett explained as he started picking up the dishes and putting them into the sink.

  "You have to follow what he says or you'll end up like the others."

  "What happened to them?" I asked, suddenly afraid by the tone of voice he had when he said that.

  "Nothing," he said quickly, realizing he shouldn't have said that to me. He was about to find out just how persistent I was when it came to having my questions answered.

  "What happened to them?"

  "Nothing. You have to clean the dishes before he comes back." He turned to hand me a scrub brush. I didn't move and I wasn't going to until he told me what happened to the other girls. I expected them to be living in the house, but it seemed as if we were the only three in this whole house.

  "If you don't clean them we will both be in trouble," Garrett said, pushing the scrub brush into my hand.

  "Tell me what happened to them," I said, dropping the brush onto the floor.

  "No, but I can see why he choose you," Garrett said sourly as he picked up the scrub brush and started washing the dishes. I guess he didn't want to get in trouble for my lack of effort.

  "Why?"

  Garrett swallowed loudly, "You look like my mom used to."

  I felt my heart break, I was here because I looked like his mom. That's why the man had taken me, he was filling a void because his wife died or something. That's sick! I thought. As I watched, Garrett washed dishes so roughly one broke in his hands. I saw blood trickle down his hand before he washed it off and continued to clean the dishes for me.

  A few minutes later, we heard footsteps coming back down the stairs. He looked at me with pleading eyes and a puppy dog pout that Andy had alw
ays given me. It tore at my heart strings—I missed Andy so much and he was dead because of me—how could I do that to him?

  "Please, just look like you're doing the dishes. I'll beg if I have to later!" Garrett pleaded before he left the room and escaped using the other connecting rooms to head back upstairs. His father's footsteps almost completely drowned out the son's as he tried to escape his father's rage.

  "I'm glad to see you've started the dishes." He grabbed my arm and pulled me up from my spot to drag me out of the room. "You can finish after lunch. Garrett, get out here!" The man yelled as we came into the main room upstairs. Garrett came out of a room, hiding his face behind his long hair.

  "Yeah?" he said trying not to show emotion.

  "That is not how you talk to me!" The man yelled as he threw a punch, hitting Garrett across the face and making him land on the floor in a loud thud.

  "Sorry, sir," Garrett said, lacking any hint of actual apology. It was hard to tell what he said after that. Garrett's mouth filled with blood and he spat it out on the floor.

  "Get up and go sit next to your mother!"

  "She's not my mom..." Garrett muttered under his breath as he sat next to me. He kept some distance between us that for some reason made my heart ache, I needed someone near me. Although, if they kept their distance maybe I would wake up and this would be some sick dream and Andy was still alive.

  "What did you say?"

  "Nothing, sir."

  "You said something. Now tell me," his father demanded. He got into Garrett's face and made both of them angrier.

  "I said she isn't my mother!"

  "She is now!"

  "She's my age!" Garrett retorted with steel suddenly re-enforcing his backbone.

  "She's your mother!"

  "My mother is dead!"

  His father hit him across the face until there was blood was gushing from his mouth. Garrett never threw a punch, he just took it until his dad stepped away and looked at me.