Spotting a gas station, I huff and signal to turn off. It’s almost noon and this place looks busy. There’s a huge parking lot for trucks and trailers and I just hope the drivers aren’t all hangingaround. For my clients, I can be as sociable as they need me to be, but today is not that day.
I’m running away from my problems because life got hard and I’m not in the mood to deal with people in general. This is far from the advice I would usually dole out, but I’m well aware that I’m a walking contradiction.
Beside a gas pump, I turn off the engine and dig through my purse for my cell so I can pay. Searching…where the fuck is it?
Shit.
I left it on the bedside table at Tanner’s house, and I have no fucking idea why my wallet isn’t in my purse.
Fuck, fuckedy fuck fuck!
Just another nail in my unprepared coffin for this journey.
Maybe I should go home. What am I even doing?
So Tanner’s a creepy fuck who has been stalking me for however long. He’s more than proven that he isn’t the boy next door that I once knew.
Ugh. I slam my purse back on the passenger seat and throw my head backward, closing my eyes with a huff.
At this point, my options are minimal. I could stay here, wallow, and probably get yelled at by waiting motorists because my car is in the way, but that feels like a last resort and invites a conflict I don’t want. Logically, I should either find somebody willing to let me use their cell or see if the cashier can help. But who would I call?
I’ve closed myself off from the outside world, made stupid decisions without thinking first, and have left myself stranded in every sense of the word. My parents are my people, and even they don’t really know me. They know the loving and devoted, hard working, determined, and goal oriented daughter, but that’s only a small part of who I am.
The parts of myself that have remained hidden would destroy their perfect image of Dr. Berkleigh Brigham. God, eventhinking of the title makes me cringe. I’m proud as hell of my achievements, of what I’ve created, but the taste of a different—albeit way more fucked up—life has changed me.
A loud knocking and the sudden appearance of a woman at my driver’s side window makes me jump, and I immediately remember exactly where I am: in a shit storm. She gestures for me to roll my window down with a wide grin on her pale face. Her eyes are sunken and she doesn’t look well, despite her smile.
“Hey, sorry. I’ll move my car.” I apologize, assuming she’s from the vehicle behind me waiting for the pump.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I need your help, though.” She huffs a laugh, clearing her throat before continuing. “There aren’t any other women around and I need help with the machine in the bathroom.” She shrugs.
The station does seem to be full of men from what I can see, and I can understand her not wanting to ask a strange man to follow her into the bathroom.
I’m about to be one of those annoying people who park at the pump and spend way too long here, but it’s for a good deed.
“Sure.” Grabbing my keys, I get out of my car and lock it before following the timid woman.
“Thank you.” She grins, her dry lips cracking with the effort as she spins to face me and leans against a black van. But she isn’t looking at me. “I’ll take my payment now.” She holds out her hand and I scrunch my face in confusion.
“Wha—ow!” A sharp sting in my neck makes me twist to see where it came from, but the action is my downfall because the world spins as my vision goes black. My muscles scream in pain from trying to move, to not give in to whatever is happening.
It’s no use.
My head is thick and heavy, my limbs don’t feel like my own, and my eyes seem to be glued shut. They’re not, of course, but it’s not easy to open them. They hurt, just like the rest of me, and I can’t figure out why.
Muffled voices come from I don’t know where…it sounds like they’re behind a door maybe? I open my eyes, slowly, and I’m thankful for the dull lighting. Although, I’m not thankful for the rope tying my wrists behind my back and making it so difficult to move.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm my racing heart as I realize the situation I’m in. Something happened at the gas station. The woman who needed help was clearly in on the heist…kidnapping.
Whatever this situation is, I’m in serious trouble. I haven’t been picked up by the cops because knocking someone out and tying them up isn’t in their wheelhouse, but then again, what do I know? Maybe the way they handle murderers isn’t well advertised.
Taking in my surroundings, the piss-stained mattress I’m lying on in the corner of an otherwise empty room, I know I’m just trying to talk myself out of the severity of my predicament. This is bad. The walls are painted a regal kind of dark-green, but they’re as stained as everything else, marked up with God knows what, giving the room a sinister edge that sends a shiver up my spine. The hardwood floor is the cleanest thing in the whole room, which is surprising, but I don’t have long to think about why before the thick brown door scrapes open, as if it’s too big for the space and was never fitted properly.
“Oh look, the little cunt’s awake.”
My heart sinks into my empty stomach, my dry throat making it impossible to swallow. I know this mountain of a man. He was in my house that night.
He walks into the room, leaving the door open, and he’s wearing what looks to be the same—or a similar—suit to the one he wore before.
