by Erin Lee
Attempting to roll to my side proves to be harder than I thought it would be, but with this damn thing on my head I can’t see. I want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but the rage of knowing what she is doing—plans to do to me, is enough to keep me trying to focus. Damn these drugs are good. No wonder we had such a high success rate with them.
Feeling something on my neck almost sends me into a panic. My heart speeds up while my anxiety and drug riddled mind starts envisioning all the possible things that could be crawling across my throat right now. As I move my hands slowly to my neck, I feel the bindings start to come lose. Enough that I can slip my wrist out of one. Idiot thinks I can’t do anything right...she couldn’t even tie me up. Still terrified of what’s on my neck, I slowly touch it and a shiver runs through my core. Oh, thank God. It’s a string.
It’s a string, to the sack, that she has my head covered up in. Holy shit, Heather! You must have thought you killed me, because you left a lot of loose ends here. Literally.
Removing one dark cloak over my eyes, simply produced another and it takes even longer for my eyes to adjust to the difference. Once they do, it doesn’t take long to understand my situation. This bitch has me in her trunk.
The last twenty-four hours come back to me, while I am trying to figure out how to get my mouth to produce more saliva. I don’t think I truly understood the term “cotton mouth” until right now. With the drugs slowly wearing off, I am hit with the realization that everything I thought I knew about my best friend is fucked. Right along with everything I thought I knew about Grant. I can get over him. I don’t need him. But, it’s been Heather and Suzie since high school. Why would she think this is okay?
I think what confuses me the most, is why people are all over him. Sure, when we met he was handsome, hot even. Great smile, bright green eyes, and built like a brick house. But after the kids, and “happy weight” the man is huge. He’s not tiny by any means, and for some reason the weight made his nose stick out even more. He has a Mediterranean nose, for sure.
This trunk is so freaking hot. I am swiping sweat from my eyes every five seconds. Bouncing up and down while this idiot drives has given me a couple of bruised ribs, I am sure of it. Covered in an amount of sweat that I haven’t felt since high school basketball games, I kick the trunk lid as hard as I can. I know she hears it because she slows a little bit. I debate on kicking harder to really get her attention. I watched this movie once with Grant where a girl gets kidnapped and somehow manages to remove the taillight and stick her hand out enough to wave for help. Obviously, someone waving from a trunk would trigger some red flags—but getting her pulled over will do me no good either. I have a better idea. I am going to play this out. Stay in the trunk, if I don’t die from this heat, let her think she is getting rid of me. What does she think she’s going to accomplish here? Get rid of the wife and Grant and Heather can ride off into the sunset? He’s in prison,
My best friend has become my favorite type of kill. Justice kill. She is the “other woman” and if I can pull this off...she will get the same justice that I have enjoyed serving to people just like her. This one, will even be for free.
2007
“HEATHER! I MET SOMEONE, and I want you to meet him.” I tell my best friend. Heather has always been more like a sister to me, than a friend. The only thing I have been able to think about since I started messaging this guy on a dating app was telling her all about him. The look she gives me when the words left my mouth tell me she is less than thrilled at the news. I may be crazy, but she always acts this way as soon as she thinks she will no longer have me to herself. She just stands there in her off-the-shoulder sweatshirt and ripped up jeans she spent a fortune on. We barely have the money to pay our water bill, but whatever.
She stares at me, looking at me like she’s trying to be interested, but her eyes tell a whole other story.
“What? When the hell did you have time to meet someone?”
“Well, we haven’t actually met yet. But, we’ve been talking.”
“Please tell me you did not sign up for a dating website.”
“Maybe...”
“Suzie—why in the world would you be online? Go somewhere. Get out of this apartment and you’ll be bombarded with guys that want to date you. And you chose to talk to chumps that are probably twenty-five years older, a foot shorter, and one hundred pounds heavier than they say.”
“It’s not like that anymore, I swear. There a bunch of pictures and with cellphones now you can video chat. And we have. So, I know it’s him. Stop worrying so much. I told you because I am going to meet him tonight. I wanted to tell you where I was going to be that way, if I don’t come home you know where I am, and who I am with.”
“I’ll know who he says he is. How do you know he even gave you his real name?”
“Oh my god. You’re ruining my excitement. Shut up for a minute.”
“Fine,” she sighs in defeat.
“His name is Grant Matthews. I pulled him up on social media, and public records. He’s legit. We are going to The Bull Saloon for a drink. If we go anywhere else I’ll text you the address. Unless you want to come along and be my spy? Then if he is hideous, I can act like I ran into you, and make you join us to be the third wheel.”
“Nope. No thank you. I am not going to save you on your date. You’ll text me the 911 just like every other person in America.”
“He has friends...single ones!”
“Suzie, I said no.”