Willing Captive (25 page)

She pushes me
forward in front of her and yells, “Down the hall and out!”

Rock waits at the
end of the hall, holding his arms out. Crawling fast on bleeding
knees, I make it to him and he pulls me up. As soon as Boo gets
within a foot of us, we’re out the front door. A black van waits
there, side door open. Rock all but throws me inside, Boo follows,
slamming the door shut. Rock climbs into the driver’s seat, starts
the van, and drives.

And all I can think
about is Nox.

Will he follow us to
wherever I’m being taken? Where are we going? How long will I have
to spend without him?

The van crosses the
property line, and I look back out the rear window, silently saying
goodbye to my second home and hoping I’ll see it again soon. We
drive a minute longer when I see it.

Flashes of white,
orange, and yellow swirling through the air hold my attention.

My mouth gapes as I
watch in horror.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM

The safe house
endures one, then two, then three more roaring explosions, before
being engulfed in flames.

My heart stops.
Boo’s arm grips mine as we both watch the terrifying scene.

I don’t blink. I
don’t breathe. I can’t think.

Suddenly, I ask
distractedly, “He got out, right?” Boo’s hand tightens on my arm. I
turn to her, looking down at her hand, and back up to her face.
Breathing heavily, I ask again, “He got out, right?”

Her shocked face
remains stoic.

Answer me!

Moving across the
van, I bang on the divider and shout out, “Rock, turn around!”

Boo yells back,
“Keep driving.”

Oh, thank God, she’s
back. Kneeling on throbbing and bloodied knees, I crawl over to her
and nod, “He got out, right?”

That’s when I see
it.

The fear and
devastation. It’s written all over her face.

And my chest
squeezes. Slumping, I whisper, “He got out. He had to have gotten
out.”

Boo’s eyes tear as
she holds my unblinking stare. A tear trails down her cheek. Her
mouth opens and shuts. Not able to speak, she shrugs weakly while
shaking her head.

Anger builds in me
and I say louder, “He got out, Boo. He did.”

Biting her lip, she
closes her eyes, and begins to cry. Her shoulders jerk
silently.

I stand in the back
of the moving van. My anger overflowing, I shout at her, “He
fucking got out, Boo!”

Her chin dips. Her
body shakes in silent sobs. I watch her tears fall to the
floor.

Falling to my knees
in front of her, I state a little quieter, “He got out.” Reaching
forward, she wraps her arms around my rigid body. I repeat, “He got
out.” It sounds weaker this time. Her arms hugging me tightly, her
body shakes against mine, and my voice shakes as I say feebly into
her neck, “He did. He got out.”

My courage
fades.

My nose tingles.

My voice trembles as
I utter confusedly, “He can’t be gone. We have plans.”

Finding her voice,
she mutters into my hair, “I’m so sorry, Deedee. So sorry.”

My arms hold her
tightly, my hands gripping at her clothing. Sorrow slices through
me like a knife. The sobs come hard and fast. “No. We have plans.”
She clutches me to her. Crying hard, my body shakes as I wail,
“He’s coming for me! He promised!”

Feeling weak, I whisper through shuddering breaths, “He
promised, Boo. He
swore
.”

Let it go. It’s
over.

A low, long, keening
cry bursts out of my mouth. Not able to breathe, my body convulses
in my weak state.

I’m numb.

Boo cries with me
and holds me tight.

All the way to the
hospital.

***

This hospital is
different from others.

I’ve been to a
hospital like this one before. It’s a private hospital. A small
hospital.

It’s almost
identical to the one I woke up in when I was taken as a child.

Upon arriving, Rock
carried me in a bridal hold. He had to do this because I couldn’t
stop the tears. And with tears comes weakness of the heart, and
weakness of the body to match.

I remember being
pricked in the arm, and suddenly everything was light and fluffy.
And although I wanted to cry some more, my body refused. But I felt
sleepy. They set me down in a wheelchair and rolled me to a room
with a queen-sized bed. Rock helped me up onto it. Boo came forward
and hugged me tightly before excusing herself, but Rock stayed with
me until I fell asleep.

I came-to a few
minutes ago to a nurse taking my blood pressure. As soon as she
sees me open my eyes, she smiles and says softly, “Hello, dear.
Sorry to wake you.”

Her sweet, mature
face is almost too much to bear. My eyes sweep the room. Panic sets
in. Sitting up quickly, I ask in a hoarse voice, “The man who was
here, where is he?”

Her face falls.
“What man, dear?”

No.
No
!

My hands begin to
shake. “The man who brought me here.”

Her face doesn’t
show any sign of recognition. Pointing to the chair Rock sat in
while I fell asleep, I almost shriek, “He was in that chair! I need
to know where he is! It’s important!”

She steps away from
me, clearly uncomfortable with my actions and raised voice. She
says quietly but firmly, “Now, dear, you need to calm down. I’m
sure we can find out where he went.”

My heart rate spikes
on the machine. The beeping noise drills into my skull.

Hyperventilating, I
rip at the IVs taped on top of my hand and in my inner elbow.
Pulling the plastic clean out of my skin, I move to stand when the
nurse yells out, “I’ve got a code red! I need hands!”

I stand on the
mattress when two large men come into my room. Holding my hands
out, I utter, “I just need to find my friend. That’s all.”

One of the men comes
closer, nodding. His gentle eyes pull me in. “Okay, honey. Get down
from the bed and we’ll go for a little walk around, alright?”

My shoulders slump
in relief. Thank God, he understands.

Taking his hand, he
helps me off the bed. And just when I smile up at him, something
jabs me in the thigh. Snapping my head around, the other man pulls
the syringe from my thigh and nods to the other man.

Son of a bitch!

The effects of the
drug work fast. My vision blurs. Feeling lightheaded, my hold on
his hand weakens, and I slur, “You tricked me.”

The man holds me
tightly, and the last thing I remember is him whispering into my
ear, “I’m sorry.”

***

I wake with a start,
the vision of the safe house going up in flames fresh in my
mind.

My
father stands from the chair he was sitting in, and Mom—frazzled
and tired looking
—rushes over to the bed, clearly
distressed. Putting her knee on the bed, she crawls over the covers
to me and hugs me
ferociously.

This is so unlike my
mom that it startles me.

I hear all the time
that daughters are usually close with their moms, but I never was.
My dad kept me so close to him that Mom got tucked away in a
corner. Feeling her body shake against mine, I wrap my arms around
her, and breathe in her familiar scent. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m
okay.”

Her voice cracks, “I
was so worried. My baby all alone and scared.” She squeezes me
tighter. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her hugs. She repeats
on a whisper, “All alone and scared.”

I hold her and
stroke her hair while I keep my eyes on dad. My brain, needing
someone to blame, picks him. The easiest target.

Releasing Mom, I
pull back from the hug as Dad approaches. Holding a hand out, I
say, “Don’t.”

He stops mid-step,
and I watch his face fall. My normally handsome Dad now looks
exhausted. Fisting the sheets of the bed, I tell him through
gritted teeth, “You should’ve told me. I would’ve never found out
if Nox hadn’t given in and told me.”

Dad’s eyes fill with
tears. “I’m sorry, Lily girl.”

My eyes match his
tear-for-tear. I sniffle through quivering lips, “It won’t bring
him back to me.” Suddenly furious, I lean forward and hiss, “I
deserve to be happy. And I was happy with him!”

Understanding dawns
on my father’s face. Mom grips my hand tightly.

Dad responds
quietly, “Oh, Lily. I didn’t realize you’d—oh, darling. I’m so
sorry.”

The anger melts
away. Dipping my chin, I whisper, “He was it for me. We were meant
to find each other.”

Sitting on the edge
of the bed, Dad opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Mom
squeezes my hand again. “Tell me what you need, honey. Anything. I
want to help.”

The anger returns with a vengeance. “You think a cup of cocoa
will fix this?” My parents wear matching expressions of sadness. It
just peeves me off even further. I screech, “You think a sandwich
or a fucking
cookie
will
fix this?”

Mom starts, “Baby,
I-”

Looking away, I
order, “Out.” Mom stops talking. I repeat, “Get out.”

We sit in silence
for a minute before my parents, obviously hurt, stand to leave.
When I hear them move towards the door, I call out, “I want Terah.
Bring me Terah.”

I need my
sister.

***

Seven hours
later…

Tired, sore, and
seriously pissed off, I roll my eyes when I hear a faint knock at
the door.

I’m tired because of
the sedatives they’ve been feeding me. I’m sore because my forearm,
knees, and forehead are torn to shreds. And I’m pissed off because
I want to go home where I can mourn the death of my boyfriend in
peace. I bark, “What?” before turning to the door.

At the sight of my
equally tired sister, I gasp. She offers a small smile, then asks,
“Can I come in?”

Not trusting myself
to speak, I nod and she walks over to me. Climbing onto the bed,
she sits close to me, sitting up. Her arms open to me. I look at
her through glossy eyes before I sink into her, resting my cheek
onto her chest.

Terah rocks me
gently, placing soft kisses on top of my head.

So many thoughts
drift through my head, but regardless of how many there are, they
always come back to Nox. A sob bursts out of me.

Then another.

And another.

Terah coos, “I’m so
sorry, kid. I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

She rocks me as I
cry openly and freely for well passed an hour. Finally calming, I
ask, “Where’s Jett?”

Her body stiffens at
his name. No doubt Jonathon told her about what his plan was. After
a moment’s silence, she says, “Gone, sweetie. They both are.”

Taking a moment for
that to sink in, I realize I’ll be mourning for more than one
person today. “How?”

Terah’s voice hitches, “Jamie was found in the apartment. Two
gunshot wounds to his chest. Jett got too close to the explosions
at the safe house you were kept at. He bled out on the back lawn.
Jon said he had glass shrapnel all over his body. A shard of glass
pierced his stomach.”

Sounding a little
too indifferent, she states, “Jon said it would’ve been a painful
way to die.”

I simply nod.

I need to change the
subject. I can’t stand to talk about this, or even listen to it.
Sniffing, I ask, “You coming home or you staying with Jon?”

The mood in the air
changes. She cuddles me to her. “No, kid. I’m staying with you.
We’re going home.”

I
love her for that, but explain quietly, “I don’t know how
long
home
will be home
for.”

And she gets me.
Offering her support, she states, “As long as you stay, I’ll stay,
too. If you move on, I’ll move on, too. We’ll do it at your pace,
honey. There’s no rush.”

Twelve hours later
with clearance from the doctor, we head for home.

Chapter
Twenty
That’s
life

Lily

I can’t eat.

I can’t sleep.

I want to die.

Chapter
Twenty-One
A new
beginning

Lily

Today is the first
day of the rest of my life.

***

Terah uses her knees
to push the sofa to the right. Stepping back, we both tilt our
heads and look. Both shaking our heads, we return to the sofa, and
push further left.

Stepping back again,
we survey our handy work. We smile at each other.

It’s perfect.

Okay, so that’s
completely laughable. And if you saw my apartment, you’d understand
why.

My father is
devastated.

He begged me not to
move. His begging turned into threats. I grew sick of the arguing,
and decided silence was the better option. The day after I told him
about the apartment, he sent me an email saying he’d added funds to
my account to help me start my new life, and to please be safe.

Yep. An email.

We haven’t spoken
much since I came home.

But I was glad he
gave in. Not that I need his permission.

The thrill of
victory I’d told myself I’d feel never actually came. There was a
small part of me that felt guilty for taking that money, but the
larger part of me said I needed to do this. I need to live my life.
That’s the part I listened to.

Mom, on the other
hand, decided she was going to spend every waking moment with me
from the time I got home, until the time I was cured. Cured of my
heartbreak.

My brain rolls its
eyes.

And although I
appreciate what she was doing, this was something I needed to do on
my own. Being my mom, she wants me to have the best of
everything.

I told her that the
most content people didn’t have the best of everything. They just
make the best of everything they’ve got.

I have a small,
one-bedroom apartment in the city. It’s central to everything. I
bought most of my furniture and housing accessories second-hand.
I’ve learned to live on a budget, and got a job as a server at a
steak house nearby.