Wanted (5 page)

I
stop at the first gas station I come to before I hit the long stretch of
nothingness on Highway 50.  I fill up the gas tank and grab a snickers and
a mountain dew.  I pull out onto route 50, turn up my radio and enjoy the
drive down the winding roads.  I’m so excited to get home. I can already
smell the apple pie.  I can’t wait to see the look on Mason’s face when I
give him my present.  I bought him a custom skateboard.  He is going
to be extremely surprised.  I smile to myself as I picture the look on his
face.

I’ve
been on the road for about two and a half hours. It’s really dark now. 
It’s starting to snow heavier and this road is so deserted, it’s starting to
creep me out.  Just as I’m starting to really panic, my phone lights up in
the passenger seat and makes me jump.  I’m thinking that if it is James
again, I’m going to pick it up.  Maybe I was too hard on him.  I turn
to look at the picture on the screen and I see James smiling back at me. 
I smile and lean over slightly to grab my phone but I can’t reach so I unbuckle
quickly so I can grab it. 

Suddenly,
out of the darkness, I see a pair of bright lights coming right at the driver’s
side of my car.  Before I have a chance to react, I hear a loud screeching
sound and then I’m thrown from my seat.  I feel my body hit glass, land on
the ground and bounce and roll like a rag doll. I lay there unable to move,
groaning, as I hear hurried footsteps hitting the concrete and sounds of
crunching glass. Then I see a blurry face standing over me.

“I’m
sorry!  I’m sorry!  I didn’t see you. Fuck!” The voice sounds like
it’s under water.  I see blurry lights fading in and out as I start
slipping away.  “Can you hear me?  Shit!  Stay with me,
okay?  You’re going to be okay.”  His voice fades in and out.  I
don’t want to die. I immediately think about Mason and that skateboard. And oh
God, my Mom! I need to call my Mom.  Then everything fades to black.

“Fuck!!
Stay with me.  Hey!!  Can you hear me? Shit!  Don’t die, please
don’t fucking die!”  I look around me into complete darkness, aside from
the headlights from my FJ shining on this girl’s lifeless body.  The only
sound is the hum of my engine.

I
drop to my knees on the glass covered cement and lean my head down to her chest
to listen to her breathe and count the faint beats of her heart.  As I
glance down the length of her mangled body, I take in her shredded jeans and
hoodie and the blood seeping through the threads. I tear her hoodie down the
middle and pull it off of her.  I ball it up and place it under her
head.  I lift her tank top over her belly looking for injuries, softly
touching her torso.   Her skin is pale except for the bruising that’s
starting to appear on her ribs.  Her belly is moving up and down with each
panted breath.  I touch her arms and legs gently looking for broken bones.
Her hair is tangled and bloody, cascading around her face on the cement. She
looks like an angel that fell from the sky.  What the fuck am I going to
do with this girl?  I can’t take her to the hospital.  I can’t
fucking call the police.  I can’t leave her here.

“Fuck!”
I place one arm gently under her knees and the other under her neck and lift
her unconscious body.  I slide her into the back of my FJ and stare at her
as she lay there motionless.  I wonder who she is and where she was
going.  I shake my head at the unbelievable shit that only seems to happen
to me.  Jumping in the truck, I think about my options.  I need to
hide her car.  I slowly push her little crunched up VW bug with the front
end of my FJ until it is hidden in the trees on the side of Route 50. 
They will find it but it might take them a bit longer.  I have to get off
this road before I’m seen.  I guess I only have one option.  She has
to come with me.

I
turn on the dark dirt road trying to dodge the potholes, looking in the
backseat every so often to make sure she isn’t awake.  When I finally reach
the cabin, I check on her one more time. She hasn’t moved a muscle. I jump out
of the truck and quickly open the door to the cabin and throw on a light. 
I dart into the bedroom and pull the sheet down on the bed and then run back to
the truck.  I open the door and watch her chest rise and fall while I
stand there with my hands on my hips trying to catch my breath. 
Shit!  She has great tits.  I can’t even think straight.  What
the fuck am I doing?

I
carry her into the cabin and lay her on the bed and assess her injuries
again.  Her legs are torn up.  Her arm looks swollen.  Her ribs
are bruised.  I run into the bathroom to rummage through the medicine
cabinet.  I gather a bunch of prescription meds, peroxide, towels and
bandages.  As I stand next to the bed with my arms full of supplies, I
gawk at her broken body.  Shit!  I can’t believe this is
happening.  My eyes drift up to her face. She’s covered in cuts and
bruises but she is absolutely beautiful.  My dick strains against my zipper,
wanting her so bad.

I
place all the items in my arms down on the bed.  I take a deep breath and
unbutton her jeans as I look up to her eyes to make sure she is still
unconscious.  I unzip them and try to slide them down her legs carefully
but her blood is starting to dry to the fabric. I run into the kitchen and grab
a knife. I swallow heavy and place the blade of the knife under her jeans and
slice my way up one leg and then the other, slowly pulling the denim away from
her skin.  As hard as I fucking try, I cannot stop my eyes from drifting
to the soft white cotton between her thighs.  She makes a soft whimper and
moves slightly and I freeze, my eyes locked on hers until she seems to settle
back down.  I grab a towel and soak it in peroxide and begin to clean her
legs.  She lets out a few long moans and winces as I touch her with the
peroxide but she doesn’t wake up.  Pushing her thighs slightly apart, I
notice a nasty cut on her inner thigh.  She’s going to need
antibiotics.  I lift her shirt once again to check her ribs.  Yellow
and purple bruises are beginning to spread across her torso. They are
definitely going to be sore.  Her swollen arm might be sprained.  I
don’t think it’s broken so I make her a sling out of an old t-shirt so she
doesn’t move it in her sleep and twist it worse.  Once I have her cuts
cleaned, I sit next to her on the bed willing her to wake up.  I sit there
for an hour until my eyes start to droop.  I’m so tired.  I have to
close my eyes.  I can’t sleep.  If she wakes up, she will panic and
run.  Maybe try go to the police.  Or she will fucking kill me in my
sleep.  I can’t take that chance.  I sit there a bit longer but I
keep nodding off.  Shit!  I can’t take it.  I go into the closet
and lift the lid of the box I found when I got here and pull the handcuffs
out.  I hold them in my hands and start to think that this must be a
fucking nightmare and I am going to wake up soon.  I stand over her again
and just shake my head in disbelief.  I grab the wrist of her good arm and
handcuff it to the iron headboard.  I pull the sheet over her naked legs
and back my way out of the room, watching her face.  I slouch down on the
armchair in front of the fireplace and close my burning eyes. 

I’m
in so much trouble.

My
body feels like it weighs a ton.  I can hardly lift my eyelids and when I
do, the light causes me to close them again.  I’m in pain.  I think
hard about what happened and it all comes back to me in a flash.  I was in
a car accident.  I remember the lights, the sounds and a voice before I
must have blacked out.  I must be at the hospital.  I can feel that
I’m lying on a bed and I can feel a sheet covering my legs.  I wonder if
my parents have been notified.  I hope they’re here. I’m so scared. As I
come to, I realize that my arm is in a sling but it looks like one made out of
a shirt.  My other arm is stretched above my head uncomfortably. 
When I pull on it, I feel something tight around my wrist and hear a clanking
sound.   What the hell? 

I
try to pull on it again and panic.  I force my eyes open and wait until
they adjust to the light streaming from the window.  I move my head slowly
around me.  It’s pounding and tears are swelling in my eyes from the
pain.  I’m in a very small room with a window.  It smells musty and
old.  The wallpaper on the walls is old and peeling and the color is
faded.  There is a nightstand next to the bed with a small lamp that looks
like the base was made from a tree branch.  The lamp shade is yellow from
age.  I see three yellow prescription bottles next to the lamp and an old
alarm clock that reads 3:52pm and a knife!  I pull on my arm again
frantically and hear the clanking sound again.  My eyes turn to the noise
as I continue to pull and then I finally realize that I am handcuffed to the
bed!

My
heart starts beating rapidly.  I’m trying to figure out what the hell
happened and where I am.  My vision becomes more blurred from the tears in
my eyes and my head starts to pound even more.  I start pulling on my arm
desperately.  The more I pull, the louder the clanking sound becomes. I
can’t move my body.  My ribs are burning.  My legs feel heavy and
torn up.  Every time I move them, the sheet rubs against my raw skin like
sandpaper.

I
lay there gasping for air from the panic that has set in when I hear the squeak
of the door opening.  My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my
chest.  Tears are streaming down my face, so I can’t make out the large
figure that’s coming toward me.  I don’t know where I find the strength
but I scream as loud as I can.  I don’t even recognize the sound that
comes out of my mouth.  Digging the heels of my feet into the bed, I
scurry backwards and curl up into a ball facing the headboard, pressing my face
into the arm that is cuffed there.  I feel a draft of cold air hit my bare
legs and my body starts shaking violently.  I continue to scream into my
arm terrified of what’s going to happen to me.  I’m not sure how much time
passes but I don’t hear or feel anything so I try to calm my breathing.  I
drag my face across my arm to wipe the wetness away.   Hesitantly, I
turn my head towards the door and I see him.  Clearer now.  He’s
standing in the doorway just inside the room.  I try to focus but my
vision is still blurred from the intense pain in my head.  I can’t make
out his face.  My lips begin to quiver and I start to cry
hysterically.  I am horrified and in an incredible amount of pain.  I
squeeze my eyes shut and start praying to God.  Please God, I don’t want
to die, please.  Help me.  I force my eyes open when I hear his
footsteps slowly coming towards me.

“Please!!! 
Please don’t!!  Please dddd…..”  Blackness is trying to take
over.  I feel like I’m going to pass out.  Then I feel him touch my
shoulder and I become panic-stricken. I fight with everything I have in
me.  My body is broken but I continue to kick and bite and buck my
body.  I’m screaming so loud my throat becomes raw and my screams turn
silent. “Don’t touch me you son of a bitch!!” I force out of my tight throat.

“Stop!
Stop hitting me, woman!  Fuck! I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I
continue to kick and scream until I exhaust all of my energy and my body
eventually goes limp.  I feel hot, like I’m burning up.  My hair is
damp and sticking to my neck. I’m trying desperately to stay conscious as my
breaths escape in short spurts.   

“Hey
now, calm down.  I’m not gonna fucking hurt you.” He says in a deep, raspy
voice. “You’re badly hurt and you need to lay back down.”  He gently
stretches my legs back out and pulls the sheet back over my body.  He
hovers over me and I see him reach up and unlock the handcuffs.  He lifts
my arm and massages my wrist where the metal dug into my skin and lays my arm
over my stomach.  My eyes keep trying to close but I’m scared out of my
mind. My body continues to shake and I barely have enough energy to breathe but
I force myself to stay alert.  “You were in an accident.  I didn’t
see you.  The road was slick and I couldn’t stop. I think you just
sprained your arm and tore up your legs.  Your ribs are bruised.  I
don’t think anything’s broken but you need to rest.”

“It
hurts so bad.” I whisper.

“I
know.  Here.”  He reaches for one of the bottles on the nightstand.

“No!! 
Please no!!”

“Hey,
it’s only pain medication. It’s okay. It’s Vicodin.  It won’t hurt you.”

“I
don’t want any drugs.” I start to panic again as I realize the situation I’m
in.  He’s big, at least 6’5 and a solid 220 pounds of muscle.  He
wears a faded black t-shirt that stretches tight across his chest and a gray
skull cap over his over grown hair that hangs in his eyes and he has at least a
week of hair on his face.  His eyebrow is pierced with a small hoop. 
He is scary as hell.  There is no way I can fight him off. 

I
love horror movies but right now as I glance at the prescription bottles, the
knife and the medical supplies, I can’t help think about the movie
Human
Centipede
, and I am freaking the fuck out!

He
blows out a long frustrated breath and shakes his head. “Listen. I didn’t mean
to drag you into this.  I could have left you there bleeding on the side
of the road but I couldn’t!” 

“Please!! 
Please let me go, I just want to go home!.....please?”  I whimper. 
My throat is dry and raspy from screaming.

He
runs his fingers through his hair pulling on the ends in frustration. “Fuck!”
He yells.  “I can’t let you go.  I’m in trouble and I can’t take that
risk.”

“Please,
I won’t tell.  I never even saw you.  Please, I just want to go
home.”  I beg.

“Uhhhh. 
This is so fucked up!” He shouts.  I flinch, thinking he might hit
me.  “Your fucking car is in a ditch off Route 50.  The police have
probably already found it. Your car is messed up.  They’ll know you didn’t
walk away from that accident by yourself. They probably have already linked
your disappearance with me. God dammit!!!”  He’s yelling at me and I am
terrified.  I try to curl up again but I have no energy so I feel helpless
and hopeless as I lay there struggling not to pass out.  I start to feel
bile rise up in my throat and I quickly try to sit up as I start gagging and
the tears start to fall again.  He grabs the small wastebasket in the room
and holds it under my chin helping me lean over it as I release the small
amount of food I had left in my stomach. I continue to dry heave as my ribs
start to burn.  My tears are mixing with the snot running from my nose and
the vomit now dripping from my chin.

“Oh
God.  It hurts.  It hurts so bad.” I moan.

“I’ll
be right back.” He sets the wastebasket down and runs out of the room.  I
hear water running and then he’s back.  He runs a warm washcloth over my
face. “This is just Vicodin, it will help you feel better.  It’s my foster
brother’s grandfather’s stuff.  This is his place. Please take it.”
 He pours out two tablets into his hand. “I’ll get you water, hold
on.”  He runs back out of the room and returns with a bottled water.
 “Open.”  He says holding the two pills to my lips.  I stare
into his eyes with my lips tightly closed.  “Open!”  He
demands.  I’m desperate for relief. I have no other choice, I decide I
have to trust him.  I open my mouth slightly and he slips the pills in and
then holds the bottled water to my mouth washing the pills down my throat. He
helps me drink the rest of the water.  The cold liquid feels like heaven
coating my scratchy throat.

“Lay
down.  You need to rest your ribs.” I slowly lower myself back down
keeping my eyes on him. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”  He says angrily. 
“You need to rest and let the medicine help with the pain.  Your ribs need
to heal.  I’ll leave you alone, okay?  So you can sleep.”  I
don’t say a word.  He stares at me for a second, shakes his head and then
walks out of the room.  I lay there with my eyes wide open trying to stay
awake.  The room slowly darkens as the sun goes down and my eyelids become
just too heavy.  The medication has me feeling too relaxed and I’m
exhausted.  I just can’t stay awake any longer. 

Hours
must pass because when I wake, there is a slight glow lighting the room from
the sun coming up through the trees.  I slowly sit up and listen for
movement.  It’s completely silent. I creep out of the bed wincing from the
pain in my ribs and legs. I slide the sling off of my arm.  It hurts but
not too bad. I’m still in my underwear and tank top so I look around the room
for something to throw on but I don’t want to make any noise so I forget about
it.  I tip toe across the room trying not to make the wood planks under my
feet squeak. The door is slightly ajar so I try to squeeze through without
moving it.  I almost make it.  The door moves slightly and I stay
completely still, squeezing my eyes shut but it doesn’t make a noise.  I
continue to move slowly towards the front door, looking around for any
movement.  Then, I see him. 

He
sits on the chair in front of the fireplace with his legs spread wide, head
thrown back.  He has a wrinkle on his forehead like he’s having a bad
dream. He doesn’t look as scary while he is sleeping.   My heart
beats erratically as I stand there frozen just watching him.  I
contemplate whether I should hit him over the head with something and try to
knock him out. I notice the lamp on the end table next to the chair and think
about using that to hit him with but I can’t bring myself to do it.  Next
to the lamp, I see a newspaper opened to the second page and I immediately
recognize the picture. It’s the same picture from Kate’s article about Ryan
Jenson.  I take one step closer to get a better look, holding my breath,
trying not to make a sound.  I can hear his breathing but he hasn’t
moved.  The article has details of the gruesome murders of Sophie Carsen
and Mia Knoll. There are pictures of both girls. They are both beautiful. I
skim the information on the page quickly.  Both girls were found naked and
mutilated in a wooded area within 3 miles of the Western Colorado campus. 
They were both brutally attacked and tortured with a knife until they bled to
death.  There is evidence that they were tied up.  They both had
drugs in their system.  The article goes on to talk about Kim Sawyer and
how she barely escaped her death. There is no picture of her.  She too was
drugged, strung up, beaten and carved up with a knife and left to bleed to
death in the same wooded area.  She claims Ryan Jenson was her best friend
for 6 years and that she thinks he just snapped.  She stated that he was
having trouble coping with the death of his parents and turned to alcohol and
sex.  As I’m skimming the article, I see movement.  I stand perfectly
still and look towards the chair.  Then, I see it. The tattoo.  The
same tattoo in the picture.  He looks different, but his eyes, his eyes are
the same.  It’s him.

I
don’t even think.  I react.  I am terrified.  I run.  I
turn the deadbolt and swing the door open. I run as fast as my legs take me
through the snow in my underwear and bare feet.  I have no idea in which direction
I am running. I just run.  I don’t even feel the cold.  I see the fog
coming out of my mouth as I breathe the cold air in and out of my lungs. I
think I’m on a road.  It’s covered in snow but I can see the dirt
underneath.  My bare feet are hitting the ground hard and I feel small
pebbles getting lodged into my skin but I keep running.  All of a sudden
I’m tackled to the ground.  I start to scream as loud as I can but a hand
covers my mouth. I try to bite his hand but he doesn’t even flinch. I’m lying
on my stomach.  He’s straddling my legs and my arms so I can’t move. 
I feel him lean over my body and whisper into my ear. “Shhhhh….I’m not going to
hurt you.  I promise.  You’re freezing.  I’m going to carry you
back into the cabin so we can talk.”  He lifts me up holding my back to
his chest with his strong arm wrapped around both my arms and my waist. 
His other hand is still over my mouth. I try to kick my legs but they are
exhausted from running and he’s too strong.  I must not have run that far,
because it doesn’t take him long to get us back inside.  He uncovers my
mouth, shuts and locks the door and takes me back to the bed. I don’t have the
energy to scream but I hear sounds coming out of my mouth that are more like
whimpers.  He drops me on the bed causing me to bounce while he quickly
grabs my wrist and locks it into the handcuff.  He jumps back from the bed
as I try to kick at him and continue crying.

He’s
going to be so mad.  He’s going to try to drug me or beat me so I can’t
try to escape again. As I’m struggling against the handcuff, my eyes lock on
the knife on the nightstand.  My heart beats out of my chest and my eyes
are wide with fear.  He’s going to drug me and then carve me up like those
other girls.