Scattered rays of broken sunlight lay across the room, a stray shard piercing my vision. Simple and plain, with nothing but a bed, side table, and dresser, it was clear this room had no previous inhabitants. I squinted, trying to get my bearings in the unfamiliar place, reaching back through my memory, grasping for an explanation.
The dock, the cards, the truck…it all came crashing down on me, a deluge of memories that even I couldn’t believe. It all seemed so unreal. In my little mundane world of pain and struggle, the events of that night on the dock and the twists of fate I had been wrung through seemed absolutely surreal.
“Bridget?” A tentative voice called from the other side of the door and I stiffened.
Ben.
My breathing was intermittent, my heart rate exceeding any sustainable tempo. Blood ran cold through my veins and I tried not to imagine the monstrous things that would inevitably happen to me now as the door creaked open.
“Bridget? Are you awake?” Maybe he would kill me quickly, get it over with. The charming façade I had experienced had to have some hold within him. It was wishful logic.
Ben. There he was, standing in the doorway, smiling as he had that night. He had no bloodlust in his eyes, no malicious tendencies in his mannerisms. Instead, he was glowing, looking at me like I was the most beautiful sight in the world. It was almost worse than if he’d appeared in the door with a roaring chainsaw, ready to chop me into little pieces.
“Go…go away.” The words came out choppy and sudden, salty tears carving rivulets down my cheeks. I scowled, wiping them away. I was stronger than this, my whole life had consisted of abuse – both verbal and physical – from my stepmother, and still I hadn’t cried since I was eight years old. Yet here I was, not a scratch, not a caustic word, and the tears flowed easily from my blue eyes as if they were draining their color.
“Please don’t cry; it’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.” I gazed in wonderment at his face, resolute and satisfied, as if he had just saved the world. His eyes nearly shone, a darker blue than mine, in what could only be recognized as pure joy.
“Are you delusional? You kidnapped me! Not to mention the chloroform.” My arms crossed over my chest defiantly, and his contented demeanor faded slightly.
“I really am sorry about that, but you were becoming hysterical.”
I snorted. “If that’s how you deal with hysterical women, you’ve got a lot to learn. And anyway, you can’t just take someone on a whim.”
Ben’s reaction was more intense than I had anticipated. He leaned forward, those deep eyes boring a concrete gaze into mine and I got the sense I was being held firmly in place.
“Believe me, Bridget. This was not a whim. This was the farthest thing from a whim that you could possibly imagine.” A chill passed over my pale skin, and he withdrew.
“W-Well my stepmother will be after you!” I snapped, hastily trying to recover from the strange stare down that had just passed.
He scoffed. “Your stepmother doesn’t care about you in the slightest.”
“That may be true, but what she does care about is the weekly child support check she gets in the mail. If you mess with that, you’re asking for a healthy dose of living hell.” I sat back, quite satisfied with my logic. A tiny part of my brain was screaming that this was my chance, my window of opportunity to escape the wretched life I had previously been living. However, this was the unknown, and sometimes, the enemy you know is better than the one you don’t.
Clearly, I didn’t know Ben very well, because his manner softened again. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now you must be hungry.”
“I don’t trust your food.”
“Bridget, please. I would never do anything to harm you.”
I shot up from the bed, sudden rage pulsing through me. “Shut up! What is all this crap about saving me, about keeping me safe? What the hell do you think this is? You kidnapped me, that’s the fact. Here’s another one for you; when the police catch you, you will go to jail, and probably get the death penalty, and I’ll laugh because it’s what you deserve. You’re a horrible human being and I hate you!”
He recoiled, looking as though I had just shoved a knife through his chest. Tears, actual tears, hung at the edge of his eyes, and his gaze dropped to the floor. I had to look away; the scene was so pitiful, so defeated. How could he - the monster - be making me feel like I was the terrible one?
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to save you. Ana is awful.” My head snapped back to him.
“What was that? How do you know her name?”
He drew in a short breath. “I’ve been…looking after you…for a while now…”
“You’ve been stalking me?” Disbelief and outrage saturated the statement and I took a precautionary step back, as if that would protect me.
“That would be the…unsavory way to put it, yes. The other day, when she came home drunk and stuck you in the throat with her cigarette…well, that was the last straw for me. I decided to do what I had been planning for years.” We were facing each other now, our positions tantamount to that of a cage match.
My hand flew automatically to the tiny, circular mark on the nape of my neck. “How did you know about that?”
He sighed. “I just told you, don’t make me repeat it.”
“No…no, that’s not possible.”
“Why not?” He was on the verge of smirking now, as if this distress amused him.
“No…”
“Bridget, I see everything. I watch you every day.”
“No!” I screeched, picking up a pillow and chucking it at him, taking the lamp and hurling it across the room. I went on the rampage, my vision was red, and nothing made sense. I was over the edge.
A smooth, clear voice broke through at last, and strong arms steadied me. By the time my vision cleared, we were in a small, simple kitchen. Everything about the house was simple, cheerful. Basic appliances complimented the natural wood and bright yellow accents adorned the room, the joviality actually calming me down a little. Hesitantly, Ben sat me down in a strangely comfortable wooden chair, sliding a plate of blueberry pancakes in my direction. They looked absolutely mouthwatering, and it was a shame that they were probably drugged.
“I know this is tough right now, but you should eat. It will make you feel better.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure it will. I’m also sure pancake mix and blueberries aren’t the only ingredients in here, so no thank you.”
He sighed. “Bridget, I didn’t drug them. I promise I’ll never do that to you again.”
“Unless I become hysterical.” I scoffed, and he smirked.
“No, not even then. Now eat up, your body is weak.”
“From the drugs.”
“Let it go!” He threw his hands up in desperation and I almost smiled. Almost.
Hunger dissolved my determination and the pancakes were so delicious I didn’t care if they were dangerous. Nothing happened afterwards so I guess they were clean anyway.
“So what are you going to do to me?” I sat back in the chair, working to keep my voice even. He looked startled.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well what do you want from me? You took me; you must want something.” I shrugged, trying to keep it casual while my pulse threatened to jump free of my skin.
He shook his head. “I just want you safe, out of the reaches of your crazy stepmother.”
“Well, as long as you have me, she’ll stop at nothing to get me back. No child means no child support.” I swallowed a sip of juice - also seemingly clean - and watched my logic sink in. Instead of looking discomfited, he looked anxious, biting his lip and dropping that captivating gaze to the floor.
“Will she really come looking for you?”
“Oh yeah.” I spoke through bites of my breakfast, every concept of good manners seeming irrelevant in the current situation. “Big time. Like a full police hunt. I tried -”
“Running away once, yeah I remember that.” His grip tightened on the arm of the chair, a strange expression crossing his face. “Your arms…if I could have I would’ve taken you that night.”
I thought the wood was going to snap as both our gazes automatically flickered to the long scars across my forearms. A shudder passed through me and I stood from the table. Enough was enough, and I was tired of sitting here doing nothing about my problems.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” I had never been a religious person, losing faith after countless beatings and no relief, but right now, I decided a little praying never hurt anyone. Please let there be a window, please god.
And there it was. Thank you Jesus. I clicked the latch shut on the heavy wooden door, wasting no time. The window was locked but I placed one foot carefully on the edge of the toilet to get a better angle. In a minute, I had the window open and hoisted myself through.
Adrenaline pumped through every muscle in my body as my feet landed softly on the ground. We were in the middle of the woods, but if I kept running, I figured I could find something. So I did.
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