The last time I saw Elise Westfield, I was walking out to the buses. It was raining fiercely, bullets of icy water pounding against the cement sidewalk. How odd, I remember thinking, for it seemed far too cold for June.
She stood alone, perhaps waiting for her carpool home. Her hands gripped a notebook tightly to her chest, but she didn’t seem to be making an effort to protect it from the water. Even from where I was standing, I could see that it was drenched, and felt a slight stir of pity for her. She seemed so lonely, so desolate.
I would have talked to her. Looking back now, I suppose I should have. But I hardly knew her. No one really did. Elise was a staple at all the birthday parties, and could tell a good joke once in a while, but she never seemed to stick to one clique. She never dated, either – she was pretty, but not the right kind of pretty. She seemed to have so many friends, and yet she sat alone on the bus.
Until that day.
I should have noticed how strange it was. I should have walked over, talked to her, done something. But I didn’t. I stared blankly at her, my thoughts occupied by things that seemed a thousand times more important at the time.
I was about to start walking again when a dark car pulled up beside Elise. I couldn’t see within it; the windows were tinted almost black. She stepped towards the car, quickly at first, then suddenly hesitant.
She took a sweeping gaze around her. Her eyes met mine, and she jumped involuntarily. The peculiar look in her eyes made me feel cold, colder than when it was only the freezing rain that tore at me. She looked away from me swiftly, almost eagerly, as if afraid to see me. As if it might change the resigned expression she bore.
The door swung open before she could touch the handle. She turned and bent over, peering into the car, her back to me. She remained in that position for a while, and I saw a vague form shifting from where the driver’s seat should have been. The windows were too tinted for me to be certain. I received confirmation only when I perceived the lower portion of a face hovering over the passenger’s seat, the rest obscured from the angle at which I watched. I could just barely see the lips moving, though the words were lost in the patter of the rain. The driver was leaning over, talking to Elise. Or coaxing her.
After a minute, she slid tentatively into the car, her long legs struggling to fit into the tiny space. I watched as her arm reached out, her slender fingers grasping the handle tightly. The door slammed shut with terrible finality. The car’s engine rumbled, the vehicle idling for a minute, and then it pulled away from the curb. I watched it for a few moments, then realized how late it was. With a yelp, I scrambled towards the buses, which had already begun to leave.
No one ever saw Elise again.
Welome to YWS and this is really good, considering it's your first post. I'm pleased to see that you've already done your first two reviews (it's so annoying having to tell people to make two reviews before they post over and over again). Anyways, enough of my ranting and onto your story.