The Lonely (12 page)

She
lifts my chin, I wish I could cry. I feel the tears there. I feel the pressure
in my throat. But nothing comes out. "Em, I'm not saying you don’t have a
right. You do. You have every right to be the way you are. You're doing
well." Those words sting more than anything she has ever said to me. It's
the Band-Aid I get slapped with all the time. The 'doing well' Band-Aid that’s
actually made at the 'I hate to tell you how shitty you are doing' factory.

"Don’t
say that." I mumble. She flinches, she hears herself. She knows how those
words feel.

"Sorry."

I
shake my head, "I think it's good you're going for the three weeks. We
need some time apart."

She
backs up, "What? Don’t say that."

I
pull back too and look at my feet, "It's true. This is harder than I
imagined it would be. Living together has been kind of horrible."

She
scoffs, "You are ungrateful. Holy shit. I moved here for you. I'm in a
city I don’t like, going to a school I never ever dreamed of and living with a
girl who is a frightened little kid, trapped in an orphanage she never
left."

My
throat burns. My heart rate picks up.

She
throws a bottle of hand sani at me, "Don’t forget to wash up." She
grabs her bag and leaves, slamming the door. I still don’t cry. It's amazing
but I don’t. I wash my hands. The smell of the coconut almond alcohol doesn’t
make me feel better. It smells like his ice cream. Dry sobs rip from my throat.

I
stare at the wall for a long time. I snap out of it when my phone vibrates and
I realize I'm sitting in the dark. I answer, "Hi."

"You
okay?" He cares. I can hear it in his voice.

I
shake my head, making an ugly cry face. It doesn’t feel genuine though without
the waterworks. "No."

"Get
dressed and go downstairs. Look nice. I have something for you."

I
shake my head, "No thanks. I'm going to order pizza and hang here."

He
sighs, "Don’t try my patience. Outside in half an hour." He hangs up.
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to face Stuart. I've managed to not get a ride
since I last saw him at the doctor's office. I've walked for everything I had
to do. As penance. I'm good at penance.

I
watch the clock, feeling the nerves building inside of me. I'm taking a stand.
I'm not going. I've had the worst couple weeks ever. I don’t have to do
everything he says.

My
indignant attitude lasts twenty-three-minutes. Then I jump up, rip a brush
through my hair and pull on dress pants and a pale-blue sweater. I smear
lipgloss on my lips and wash my hands three times. I race out the door, pulling
on my parka. I make it to the front door in exactly thirty-minutes. I'm huffing
from not running at all in weeks.

Stuart
looks sad when he sees me. He's sad for me. He feels sorry for me. His pity
burns a hole in my already battered chest.

I
climb into the backseat. He closes the door softly. It hurts more that he's not
being an ass. I'm not worthy or strong enough for him to treat me like shit.

I
keep my eyes down.

My
phone vibrates. I answer, "Hi."

"I'm
running late. The limo is stuck behind an accident. Tell Stuart not to take you
to the place until I message him." He hangs up.

I
frown and look up at Stuart. I clear my throat, "Uhm he just called. He
wants us to just drive around until he messages you." I barely finish the
sentence when Stuart's phone plays a song. He looks at it and answers, "Hello?"
He makes a weird face and nods, "Yes sir." He hangs up and shrugs,
"Guess he was ready now."

I
point, "Has he ever called you before?"

He
shakes his head. "No."

I
can't help but feel weird. But the look on Stuart's face catches my eye in the
mirror, "I'm so sorry." My words are soft. They have no strength.

He
shakes his head, "I know you didn’t mean to." His eyes narrow,
"He's just a weird rich guy. He messes with people. He likes controlling
us. We gotta play the game, Em."

I
swallow, "Is she very mad at me?"

He
smirks, "She's sick right now. She almost didn’t get in the cab. She hates
herself for what she said."

I
clench my jaw. "Me too." I whisper and look out the window.

"As
soon as she lands you know she'll be messaging you."

I
nod and fight the feelings roaming my insides, making them cramp up.

He
drives into an old part of town where we sit in a parking lot. He waits a
minute and then climbs out. I get out and hug my parka. Mid December is cold.
The wind is bitter and the snow is annoying. Boston is not my favorite place to
be for winter. Stuart walks with me toward an old brick building. He looks
around. He's never walked with me before.

"Do
we go inside?" I ask.

He
shakes his head, "He was supposed to meet us in the parking lot. He said
he was taking us somewhere. We were going to like it." He looks around and
hugs his pea coat to himself. My stomach hurts. I've felt this pain before. It
reminds me of something.

Stuart
must feel it too. He stands really close to me. He pulls out his phone.

"Was
this the address?" I ask. My nerves are on high alert.

He
nods, "This is where he said on the phone."

I
think about what he's said to me about Stuart protecting me. I stand closer.
The parking lot is bare, beyond the dried crusty snowdrifts. The snow is barely
covering the ground. We crunch around, walking and waiting. Stuart dials.
 
He holds his phone out, "Crap. No
service."

An
SUV pulls into the driveway. It's not a limo. I look at Stuart, "He said
he was in a limo. What if that’s not him?"

Stuart
looks at me, "Stand behind me." His face is tense and angry. I don’t
know what's going on. We both feel the tension. Everything feels out of place.
I glance at my phone but there is no service. I shove it down the back of my
dress pants and into my underwear. I remember the talk from eighth grade. If
anyone ever snatched you, you were to press nine-one-one and then shove the
phone down your pants. Wherever they were taking you, they weren’t taking your
pants off till they got there. I never had a phone before. I honestly never
imagined I would need to do it.

"I
wish we never got out of the car." I mutter.

Stuart
steps forward when a man steps out of the back seat of the grey SUV. He has on
a huge fluffy coat and sunglasses. It's dark and it's clearly still winter,
well as far as I have seen, hence the snow and my frozen ass. Boston winters
feel like they will never end.

This
guy is a douche.

Sunglasses.

I
know it isn’t him. Uncle Daddy Weirdo is way too cool to wear sunglasses in the
winter, like this douche. Sunglasses or no, he freaks me out. I step closer to
Stuart. I look down at my Ugg boots and grimace. I wish I wore my runners. I
start tensing my legs as two more men get out of the car.

"Who
are you?" Stuart asks.

The
man laughs, "Just give us the girl. That’s all we want."

I
take a step back. Stuart looks back at me but doesn’t take his eyes off of the
men, "Run." He says flatly. I don’t need to be told twice. I turn and
bolt. I hear men grunt and slapping sounds. I leap at the chain link fence. My
fingers claw at it, dragging myself up it in frenzied panic. I reach the top
but my boot is grabbed. I jerk and kick but I'm pulled hard. I kick again and
get loose. I pull myself up again and scramble up to the top. I swing over and
start to scramble down the other side. My assailant's sunglasses meet my eyes
mid fence. He smiles, "I like when you run little girl." I gag. His
voice is creepy and sadistic. I jump, feeling something pull in my ankle. I run
hard. I hear him land with a grunt. I push my legs harder. They are just
starting to warm up. I dig in. There is no way he will catch me. No way. I run
around a building and though a parking lot. I round another building and push
it down an alley. I'm completely lost. I end up in another parking area. I slide
between two vehicles and catch my breath. My ankle burns and my lungs hate me.

I
almost cough but I hold my breath. I hear his footsteps. He's still running. My
back is against the cold hard car. My muscles are trembling from the crouched
position and my vision is fuzzy. Lack of oxygen and too much adrenaline.

"I
know you're here. I'm tracking your cell phone." He has an accent. It's
English. No Australian. I glance around and think of what to do. If I pull the
phone from my pants he won't be able to find me. But then neither will Stuart.
I decide to risk it. I fish my phone out of my pants and check the signal. I
have a bar. I text as fast as I can.

'HELP!
BAD GUYS! PLEASE COME FIND ME!'

It
delivers. I hear a ping in the parking lot. My stomach sinks. I close my eyes
and wonder if he IS the bad guy or dead at the hands of the bad guy.

My
breath is gone. My legs become concrete. His footsteps get closer. I slowly
place the phone on the ground. I back up silently, fighting it as it starts to
over. His feet crunch the old dry snow. I'm trembling. I back up. My exhale
makes mist in the air. I try not to breathe. I hold my mitten over my mouth. It
makes me sick, but I don’t have any other choice. It all feels familiar. The
mitten and hiding amongst the cars. I start getting lightheaded.

I
lean into the car more, needing the support.

I
need to keep backing up.

"Emalyn
Spicer. Such an odd name for a girl who was adopted into a Catholic church.
Don’t they usually name you after a saint?" His voice is like nails on a
chalkboard. It burns and hurts. He isn’t my benefactor. I would know his voice
anywhere. This is a bad man, who wants to hurt me to get at my benefactor. Just
like he said they would. I was foolish. Why didn’t I listen? Why didn’t I stay
with the car? I had to walk and be stubborn because I didn’t want to see
Stuart. Stuart who is now fighting for me. No doubt out numbered and hurt. My
heart is aching.

I'm
panicking, as his steps get closer. I can hear him stepping in between the cars
next to me. I look around. There is nothing. Nothing I can see. I count to
three and jump up. I sprint behind the cars and jump over a small barricade.
His shoes slap the hard road behind me. It's the moment I've trained for.

What
I haven’t trained for hits me in the butt cheek with a stabbing pain. I slam
into a building. The lonely comes fast and hard. My feet won't move. They're
concrete boots. It's like I'm wading through the water, clutching the side of a
building. His feet are crunching on the crusty ground behind me. I fall into
the cold snow. My knees scrape on the hard crust. I'm still dragging myself
when I see dark-brown shiny leather shoes walking up to me. I see his shoe come
back, like he's going to kick me. I blink but my eyes don’t open. The shoe
connects with my stomach. I grunt and cry out. I hear it but it doesn’t feel
like it comes from me.

I
feel something woolen pull down over my face. And then I'm out.

The
dark is a quiet place. Reflection and contemplation are the only things to do in
it. Well that, and imagine the worst things possible.

I
don’t have to reflect or contemplate or any of those things. I know what the
worst things possible are. I know about the things that hide in the dark.
Insanity is the least of them.

I
am curled in a ball in the back corner of the room.

It's
stressing me out that I don’t know where he is.

Him
or Stuart.

I
don’t have my phone. The thing I never imagined loving, now feels as if an
appendage is missing. I miss the feel of it when it vibrated and I knew he was
there. He was always there for me. I pray they're both okay.

I
hear a scream cut through the silence. My heartbeat quickens. It sounds like
Stuart. He screams again. My back is pressing harder into the concrete. His
screams worsen. He is brought closer to my door. He is sobbing. I cannot
imagine the horrors he has seen, or the pain he has experienced, to make him
sob. But he sounds like a child. Weak and fragile. They have hurt him badly.

My
jaw is trembling. The sounds are gone again. It is my heartbeat and exhaling
breaths that keep me company in the dark.

The
darkness keeps me awake.

My
butt hurts, my heart hurts, my throat burns from the tears in there and my eyes
burn from the lack of sleep. The door opens. The light is harsh and white. I
squint to see a hand rise in the open space. A gun is lifted. I don’t have time
to flinch or cry out. The dart is sticking out of my arm and I am sliding down
the wall. The door is closed again. My throat gets thick and my limbs feel like
they're getting fatter. When I hit the floor I cannot move. My eyes flutter and
then close.