The Bond That Built Us (12 page)

“What? Just tell me,” I plead. I want her to say what she is thinking.
I need her to say it. I’ve been waiting for something – anything - for days now.

“You drive me crazy! One minute you are sweet and nice, then you’re all sexy and flirty, and now you’re being a man-whore jerk!”

“I told you I didn’t know it was her!” We are both yelling again. She is being totally unreasonable. If we were in a different situation and I was MJ, Aubrey would have just shrugged and let it slide off of her shoulders. But for some reason, with me, her emotions get the best of her.

“I don’t care! It still happened!” She shrieks.

“Why does it bother you so much, huh?” I know I got her when all she can do is blink at me. “It shouldn’t matter what I do, or what you do. We’re friends, right? If you want me then you need to tell me, Aubrey. I’m not a fucking mind reader. As far as I know, I’m still single so I can do whatever the fuck I want!”

She just stands there, stunned out of any movement. Her mouth is agape slightly and her eyes are wide. Even in our enraged states, I want to pull her close and kiss her right now. I step toward her and she twitches back to life.

She maneuvers her way around me and runs to the front door, grabbing her flip flops that are thrown askew by the door with MJ and Cara’s. She slams the door behind her and I thrust my fingers into my hair and pull.

“God dammit!” I yell. I don’t know what to do. She puts me on edge so much that I don’t even know what I want. I thought I was fine being single and being with different girls if I wanted. But
I know I would always think about Aubrey. We fit so well together that it seems inevitable that we be together. But is that what I fucking want? I’ve never really wanted that before and if it’s going to be this damn difficult then I should definitely reconsider.

I pace around the living room for about thirty seconds until I realize what I just let happen. I let her leave, alone. I look out the window and
only see darkness. The glow of artificial light from the city just barely highlights everything. Shit!

I run outside to follow her, not even stopping to grab my own shoes. I run to the end of the walkway and look left then right down the street. I faintly see her nearing the corner to my right. I
tear after her, just as she disappears from behind a building.

“Aubrey!” I yell, but she is a good block away and the sound of the
party going on diagonal from the corner she is at is drowning any noise I make. When I get to the corner I am a little out of breath but keep going to where I saw her turn. I stop in my tracks when I see two guys jump out of a van and sneak up behind her. I sprint as fast as I can to her, hoping I’m not too late. She is right below a street light and the yellowish glow gives an ominous feel to the situation. Or it could be the two men approaching her.

She turns to face them and even from my distance I can see the panic in her eyes. “Run, Aubrey!” I scream. Her eyes flutter to me for an instant, and I know she heard me. She bolts across the street, barely escaping a motorcycle that is speeding dangerously down the street. I cut the corner, hoping to catch up to her before they do.

But I’m too far away. By the time I weave across the street, one of the guys grabs hold of her hair and yanks hard so her feet fly out from underneath her and she crashes to the ground. I hear her cry out in pain and I will my legs to go faster. The second guy reaches her and hits her hard in the face and picks her up once she is limp.

I cry out again and dart across the street once again to get to their van. I get there before they do and I stand there, huffing as adrenaline and rage consume me. One has Aubrey hauled over his shoulder and the other walks slowly up to me.

He starts speaking in Spanish, and I don’t know what he is saying but his tone is venomous. He steps closer to me and repeats what he said only more forceful. His dark eyes pierce into me, trying to intimidate me.

I don’t budge.

Then as the guy reaches into his pocket, he pulls out a small but menacing knife. I inhale quickly, and immediately regret not listening to my dad when he suggested taking karate lessons. Even so, I am quite the fighter. No classes needed- just some scumbags in school who can’t keep their mouths shut and some instincts.

When the man charges, I slip to the
right and punch him in the side, the one holding the knife. He drops it like I hoped he would. He comes back around and rushes me again, only this time successfully pushing me to the ground. We struggle on the dirty street and after some time I finally connect my fist with his jaw. He slumps back and I stand quickly, looking for Aubrey. The other guy is throwing her into the back of the van.

I see people across the street, looking on curiously. I yell at them to call the cops and they jump in alarm. One pulls out his cell phone while the girl slaps her hand over her mouth in shock. Before I can turn my attention away from them, I am hit in the back of the head and I fall back down to the dirt.

My eyes f
lutter open, and my head throbs. I have to wait a moment for my sight to focus enough to know where I am. I concentrate my attention on the figure lying beside me. I lift my head slightly and see that it is Aubrey, still knocked out cold. Her body is lifeless and every once in a while, we both shift from bumps in the road. I must be in the van.

I crane my neck up to see the front seat. The two guys are sitting there, the one that hit Aubrey is driving. The other man, the one with the knife, is sitting in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers on his knee to the awful Spanish music floating out of the weak speakers.

I loll my head back and watch Aubrey, hoping she will move on her own at any second. Even in the darkness I can see the shading of a bruise forming on her temple. Her bottom lip is split open and she has smudges of dirt all over her skin and clothes. Her arms are behind her back, as are mine, and I can feel the restraints around my wrists. My ankles feel the same, and I look down at Aubrey’s feet to see that she, too, is tied up.

My gut wrenches. It’s my fault. There were so many things that I did wrong, and they all came together and this happened. I tried to save her, but failed. Now we
are with two kidnappers, awaiting our fate. I’ve seen the news, I’ve seen the television shows. I’m pretty sure our chances are slim to none, and if we survive through the week I will be extremely surprised. I’ve heard somewhere that if someone isn’t found within forty eight hours, the possibility of finding them is minimal.

A sinking feeling consumes me and I take a deep breath, hoping that will calm my nerves enough so that I can accept my end. I look over at Aubrey, who is still beautiful even cut up and bruised. A new kind of feeling comes to me now. I can’t think like I was, like we weren’t going to make it. I have to think like we are going to get out, we are going to survive. I have to think that way for Aubrey.
I have to be strong for her. I close my eyes tight and pray that we make it through. The soreness in my body pounds my muscles into submission and I pass out once again.

I awake again to the sound of a large metal door sliding shut. Or open, I’m not sure because there are no windows in the back of this van. I keep my eyes shut, afraid if they see me awake it will all begin. I hear the van door slide open and hands are on me. They are none too gentle with me as they hurl me out of the van and onto a concrete floor. My shoulder and hip slam into the ground and it’s really hard to feign unconsciousness now. They grab the back of my shirt and drag me down a hall into a room. About a minute later they come back and a thud and a girlish ‘oomph’ sounds beside me.

Aubrey.

A door shuts and all is silent. I wait a little longer just in case, then open my eyes. The room is dingy and smells like a cellar- mildew and dirt. It’s dark, aside from the one small light bulb that is above us, swaying from a loose wire. The walls of the small room are made of gray cinder block, and the only thing I can see in the room is a small cot with no sheet, just the metal box spring and a nasty mattress. I flip onto my back and look at the other side of the room.

There is a toilet and a bucket beside it. The floor slants slightly and comes to the center where there is a drain. I can see dark streaks running down into it, and I bite back vomit, knowing it’s probably blood.

I turn back to Aubrey once I hear her soft moaning. She looks like she is in pain and when they threw her on the floor they left her on her back. Her arms are tied behind her so her back is arched uncomfortably.

“Aubrey?” I whisper.

She gasps and opens her eyes in a flash. She stares up at the ceiling, afraid to move.

“Aubrey, I’m right here.” She slowly flops her head to the side to face me. Her eyes roam my face, the fear still evident in them. Her chin starts to quiver. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
My voice is raspy and for a second I thought it was someone else saying the words.

Tears well up in her eyes and they quickly f
all, leaving little trails down her temple and washing the dirt away. A few tears fall out of the corner of one eye and make their way down to her nose and fall off the tip. “It’s not your fault,” she murmurs softly. “I shouldn’t have left.”

My throat constricts and I feel a tingling burn. She thinks it is her fault. I shake my head fervently. “No. Don’t think that way. Please, don’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.”

“But I promised,” she sniffles. “And now you’re in trouble, too. You should have just left me.” She turns her head in dismissal and sobs, her body trembling.

“Stop!” I roar. “Just… stop it.” She breaks down and cries hard
er, while my own tears finally crack through and roll down my face.

11

Aubrey

I don’t know how long we’ve been in this room, but I don’t think I have another tear left. My head hurts like a mot
her fucker and my body is in serious pain. I don’t know what they did but everything hurts, even my hair. And seeing Kellan beside me on the ground in the same state crushes my heart. I shouldn’t have left, and because I’m an idiot I did anyway. And because he is a nice guy, he followed. I don’t really know what happened after I crossed the street except my hair getting pulled and me falling to the ground. I can still feel the tenderness of my ass and elbows.

I can hear voices from the other side of the door. I lift my head as it swings open and the two men that took us stand there, the light from the hallway casting a halo around them. They step in the room with purpose, conversing between them. I can only make out a few words every once in a while, and I can’t connect them well enough to make sense of it.
I should have paid more attention in Spanish class.

One bends down and sits on his haunches beside me, eying me like I’m a piece of meat. Once he makes his assessment, he looks me in the eyes. I can’t break mine away from his and we stare at each other, while he talks to his comrade. A smirk touches his lips when the other one says something. He stands up and stretches his legs. Then picks me up and tosses me on the cot
in the corner of the room, dust billowing up around me like a cloud.

I cough at the smell of the mattress; urine and mold. My stomach clenches as I try not to inhale the motes floating and settling on me. The two men start to yell at me in Spanish. They are speaking simultaneously so I can’t even make out a single word.

“I don’t speak Spanish, assholes,” I seethe. My lips barely opened to speak, the dust from the cot are still filtering down.

They look at each other, then back at me.

One steps closer and says in an accent, “Tell us your name, little girl.”

“Absolutely not.”

They look at each other again then one lifts his knee and kicks me in the stomach. I curl up into the fetal position and cry out. I hear Kellan yelling behind the men and they don’t even acknowledge him enough to turn around. He kicked the edge of one of my ribs and a shooting pain throbs all the way to my back.

“Your name. Now.”

I glance at Kellan, and he nods. “Aubrey,” I mutter.

“Your surname? And where you live.”

I sigh and consider lying, but I’m afraid they already know the answers and will hurt me if I do. “James. I’m from St. Louis, Missouri. You want my fucking bra size, too?” I snap.

They both laugh, and one says, “Not necessary. We will know soon enough.” Wait, what does that mean? The panic rises in my throat and I choke down the burn of vomit. The two begin talking to each other again, and when they nod to Kellan, who is still on the floor, I
somehow understand the words ‘nothing’ and ‘kill him.’ I flip out and begin screaming and thrashing my body around, until I fall off the cot and onto the floor.

“NO! NO!
He has money, um… tiene dinero. Por favor. Anything, please.”

“Aubrey, don’t!” Kellan yells.

“You say you don’t speak Spanish. But you do. You lie.” His eyes form into little slits and his upper lip is curled up into a sneer.

“No! Well, I know a few words, that’s it
. I swear!” I am going to cry again. He is going to kill me and I’m going to be a babbling mess as he does it. That’s not the way I was hoping to go. I wanted to die old and wrinkly, surrounded by people I loved. My family.