Chapter 51

I've done enough stupid shit in my life that it brought shame on me. This... this was the dumbest thing I've probably done, surpassing every other idiotic mistake. I didn't understand why I left the closet. I knew I probably should have stayed put. Mark was coming and I knew it was dangerous. But all I could think was that Luke needed to get back. When I heard the front door open and close, who else could it have been? I didn't at all think Mark and I was stunned still that he could just walked right in here. I was so sure it was Luke, so sure there was no danger now that he was back. Because I truely believed without a question that it was Luke. How wrong I was.

I was frozen, even though I knew I should be running. But I was afraid if I did that he would shoot me anyway. For some reason, he didn't pull the trigger. Yet anyway. He just continued to stand there from across the dark room, his figure visible and some of his features from the light illuminating from the windows.

I watched as he slowly took a few steps towards me and I could feel the need to live build up even more within me. Yet, I couldn't do anything with a gun pointed at me like he was doing.

"Do you... know what the fuck you've done to me?"

"Mark..." I said, as if trying to find a way to get out of this. Hell, even just stalling could help! Anything! Luke! Where is Luke?! He wasn't back yet and I could only assume Mark came early. A change in plans and fate turns on its own. My fate. "I don't know why you would be so stupid to kill me," I couldn't help but say. "I didn't pay the unreasonable price of 15,000 dollars. And you're going to kill me?!" I yelled at him. I knew it was common sense to not anger the guy that pointed a gun at me. It was also common sense to not leave the closet though.

He scoffed, coming closer towards me and I unconsciously backed up a bit. "No, I'm going to kill you for telling the police everything. After all I've done for you're crazy ass, after I've watched out for you, after I cared for you... you steal from me. Then, you tell the cops about the drugs in my attic!"

I shook my head. "I didn't--"

"Yes!" he said, his steps growing faster and before I had the chance to dodge him, he was against me, holding me against him so I couldn't move. Then, the worst feeling I ever possessed came over me when the gun he had came in contact with the side of my head. He could pull the trigger and it could all be over, that one movement and he would have blown my brains out.

I felt my breath ridged and I stopped fighting him when I felt him press the gun's barrel against my head. I was tense and frightened beyond what anyone could ever imagine. I was going to die, right here. I was going to lose all the freedom that could have been possible. I was going to lose Luke. I was going to lose myself.

"I know you told, you filthy snitch!" he screamed against my face and I flinched, avoiding his aggressive eyes. "It couldn't have been anyone else because nobody else besides you knew of the drugs in my attic you stupid bitch!"

I understood now. This was my fault. He was right, it nobody else knew and I forgot that fact. Maybe I wasn't that smart at all with all the mistakes that were being revealed right now. I felt him grip my arm and shove me slightly back. In that second, he gripped harder while with his other hand with the gun, he raised it and slapped me across the face with the hard hand gun.

"Ugh," I grunted in the next second and felt myself going back but he held me as still as he could, that gun returning to my head. Sharp pain shot up in my head and I winced as he pushed the barrel of the gun harder against the side of my throbbing head. My sight shifted slightly as my head was spinning, dizzy. I wouldn't let that take me over though. I couldn't. I wouldn't die a coward beaten down. "You prick! Cut this shit and do what you're here to do for christ's sake!" I screamed in his face. "Shoot me, god damn it and be a man for once in your worthless trash life. Because I will not give you the satisfaction of making me beg to live!"

I was surprised at how strong my voice was and how much anger was in me. It nearly shadowed the fear I refused to show him. Because yes, I was scared out of my mind and didn't want to die. But that's exactly what he wanted, to see my fear before I die. I wouldn't give him that. He's going to take my life, I refuse to give him my fucking dignity.

My eyes cleared a moment later and I looked straight in his narrowed eyes as blank-faced as I could. I was waiting, as scared as I was, and I could only think of one thing: Luke. I didn't blame him for not being here. I was blaming myself for being dumb enough to leave that closet. I just wished he wouldn't have to go through this, through the pain he would endure. I just wanted him to be safe. I just wanted what was best for him.

He stared back at me and I was getting more upset by the moment. Coward! What was he waiting for? Me to beg when I said I wouldn't. I knew he wasn't afraid of killing me. So what the hell was he doing waiting?

He was thinking, debating something in his head. He swiftly looked around him, as if remembering someone else could be in this house. He pressed closer to me, his hot breath against my face, voice menacing in a whisper. "Who else is here?"

"Satan. To take you straight to hell!" I said without a second thought, scowling at him and I did my best to keep my voice from shaking, my lips from quivering. I was so scared and I couldn't be right now. I needed to die with the dignity Luke helped recover for me. I wouldn't throw it away right now.

He looked around him again and something like realization lit his features. His eyes widened and they returned to mine, lips flat and anger in his expression - even more than before. "Come on," he said, moving around me with his hand still gripping me. Only this time he was pushing me towards the front door and I was forced to walk with the barrel against the back of my head now. I was facing away from him and I let that be my time to take deep breaths, to stay calm. If he wasn't going to kill me, what was he doing? I didn't know but I needed to keep calm and remain neutral - for Mark anyway. On the inside, I was getting more scared by the second. I knew this wasn't apart of Mark's plan. It was to kill me then leave. So what the hell was he doing?

"Where are we going?" I asked in the flattest voice I could.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now shut the fuck up!" he hissed, his hand gripping my arm harder and he pressed the gun more against me, making me groan with the pressure he was applying while he pushed me to continue walking. I seemed like the longest time to get to the front door and when we were there, he told me to open the door and step outside which I had to do.

The night air hit my skin, my face and a light breeze brushed my hair. The crickets were chirping and that was the only sound that existed then, besides my heavy breathing. I tried to relax with the surrounding nature; it usually helps to keep me calm. Of course, I never had a freak pointing a gun at me while I tried to relax. Deep breaths... hold on and deep breaths, I kept telling myself

"My car," he said and that was all it took to start moving my bare feet again across the porch. But since we were out of the house, he was much more rushed it seemed. He pressed my back into his chest, gripping me still with the gun against me too. Only now, he was guiding my feet and he dragged me down the porch steps and quickly pulled me up to where his car was. Looking around in the darkness in what was only a few seconds, I saw the cop car was gone and his truck was the only vehicle here. Obviously, he wasn't back. I honestly was somewhat relieved about that. I didn't want him involved after I thought about it, it wasn't his fight, his issues, and he didn't need to get hurt over my dumb mistakes.

I had to handle this myself. But how?

He pushed me into his car, which was parked on the side of the road in the shadows. He moved to the driver's side, his gun still pointed at me as his eyes were as well. It took him a minute to start the damned thing; it was so old. However when he did and started to drive, my stomach dropped and my heart was sinking. I knew what he was doing, I realized as he drove along the dark road.

He was moving me... to some place else to kill me. He didn't want to stay at the house because he was nervous about Luke. He knew there was suppose to be someone else there and when there wasn't, he wanted to take care of me without having to look behind his back every second. I think he also was trying to get away with it too. Kill me, dump my body where it wouldn't be found, then run. If he killed me in my house, he would have had more evidence around to pin it on him. It just made sense. It didn't help that he wasn't covering my eyes or anything from where we were going.

I was going to be sick. He couldn't do that to me, I couldn't die like that. And you know what, I refused to go down like that, alone and scared even if I had dignity. No, I needed to fight my way out of this, with my dignity and my life. While he was driving, he had the gun pointed at me, his hand holding it resting between us. It was aimed at me if I tried anything funny. Which would mean I would have to act fast if I did anything.

I tried thinking of something, anything while I was sitting there, frozen and pissed and scared out of my mind. What can I do?! I looked around me as best as I could without moving my head to not look suspicious. Could I get the gun away from him somehow? Could I make him stop the car somehow and then run? Even if I get him into a crash, it might work. But it seemed too risky; I would get shot. Mark was not dumb. He knew how I was, knew what I was like, and that I would try something. I could tell in the air how on edge he was, his hand clenched tight on the wheel. His other steady as he held the gun pointed at me on the seat.

I didn't know how long it would take for him to get where he was taken me. But I knew I didn't have much time. I needed to do something soon otherwise I would be dead. I needed a plan and it was nearly impossible to think, knowing I'm about to die soon enough.

But something did come into my mind. I looked to my left and towards where his hand grasped the wheel. Beyond that, I secretly observed the dials that were glowing in the dark space around us. He was going about 40 miles per hour, I saw.

I bit my lip, holding in my shaky breaths. Was it possible? First, would I even make it without getting shot? I had to be careful if I did this, making sure I could get the door open fast. No mistakes. The door can't jam, can't be locked or I'm dead. It seemed too risky. 40 miles per hour shouldn't kill me if I jump or rather roll out the car door. Because yes guys, that was what I was thinking as an option. I didn't know what else I could do that would be any better. It would hurt like a bitch but it's better than getting shot, even stupid me knew that. Looking at the road ahead, the darkness, I knew that if it did work, I would have to run and hide in the surrounding woods. He wouldn't just let me get away. He would come back after me.

Yes, way too many risks. But I didn't have much of a choice. Even if I did, I couldn't see it. I was too panicked and I knew I had to do this. Now. The biggest possibility was just getting shot before I can even make it out the door. And if I do, I better be quick enough to take the pain and get back up and run. I might not be able to; I could break something. If I can though, I needed to make sure he doesn't find me.

Nearly impossible. But I would much rather die fighting than go quietly in fear. I've taken shit my whole life and now that it could be ending soon, I was drawing the line. I would fight for my life no matter what the odds were.

I swallowed hard and I felt my heart sped up at just the thought of what I was about to do. I watched the road ahead of me and 40 miles per hour... seemed so fast all of a sudden. The side of the road seemed to be going by so fast, the ditches beside them looking blacker and deeper. Seeing roadkill didn't boast any confidence either if you can believe it. But that didn't matter; I had to swallow my fear and handle this as best as I could manage.

First, I needed to make sure the door was unlocked. It was an old car and I really doubt it would be locked. Sitting as still as I could, my hands in my lap, I slowly, while looking forward, slipped my right arm down and out of sight, near the door. I quietly felt around the door, fingers slidding over the surfce and the edges of the door, my body blocking what I was doing from his view. I felt for the lock... I found the door handle and would know where to grab it to open it when I make my move. I felt a built in ash tray, a crank for the window, and then, a botton/lever-type thing that peaked my interest. It had to be it. I felt with my fingers and was nearly sure that was it but I needed to make sure. So, slowly and so he wouldn't notice, I tilted my chin down just a little, just as much as I would dare. My eyes were straining at the edge of my vision, looking down towards the door to hopefully see the lock. I could barely see it and I tilted my head down a little more, letting my eyes catch sight of it. Though little light, we were passing under the street lights and it lit up the inside of the car.

I caught a picture of it and looked as close as I could to make out whether it was locked or not. And it seemed as if God were on my side this one time because it was unlocked. I felt so much relief; that would have given me the most problems. It would have taken too long to unlock it without him seeing what I was doing. Now I could only hope getting the door open and rolling out would be a success.

I needed to prepare myself. I would have to try my best to prevent unnecessary injuries. I needed to keep my limbs from flinging uncontrollably. I also knew I would have to get out and try to land as if I'm rolling. I would guess that would be the best way to do it but hell if I knew. I just had to hope. I needed to fight on. I wanted to be able to see Luke again. At this point, I would be looking forward to that terrible talk I knew we would have to have if it meant I get to live.

I must be fast; no mistakes with getting out. I felt myself slowly inch closer to the door without him noticing. Soon, I was pressed up right against the car door and still managed to appear as if I was sitting patiently. I took quiet even breaths because I knew this was it. I clasped the door handle and hoped this would work. For the first time in my life, I wanted to believe in God. I wanted his help. Lord knows I needed it even if I didn't deserve it.

My body was shaking noticeably more and I needed to hold it together. Looking out the windshield at the empty road ahead, I remembered what I must do. Get out fast, hands and legs to my body, roll and run. Run for my life.

I grasped the door handle tighter and took one last breath. Then... I moved.

I swung the door open and pushed myself away from the seat and down, out the door. And just as I tucked my arms into my chest as I jumped out, I heard the gun shot go off. The shot that was very intended for me. At first, I was quite positive he hit me. The pain spread over my entire body when I landed on my side of the cement and small stone. I was rolling fast and felt myself cry out in deep pain. Gravel kicked up in my face as the speed in which I jumped out of the car. I don't recall ever hurting as much as I was then. My side felt torn apart and my head felt as if it cracked. Did he shoot me? I thought he did because the pain was just too much. My bare skin hitting the road was tore up, the tee shirt and shorts ruined as well and it didn't help shield pain away from the skin it covered. I was hurting everywhere, gravel digging in deep and puncturing my skin. All I could think at the moment was the amount of pain that was going through my body. I thought I was dead and should just let myself rest now.

But I knew I couldn't do that. No matter what, I couldn't. After I stopped rolling from how fast I jumped out, it took everything I had to try to get up. I knew Mark was on his way back already and I had to move. I realized then that he didn't shoot me; he missed and the pain that I figured was the bullet was the impact of jumping from a moving vehicle.

I didn't even think about what would happen to my vision when I would jump. Because now, it was spinning at a rate I couldn't keep up with. I tried to get up but it ended up with me only being able to manage getting to my knees. The next second, I was falling back over.

Get up... move. Get up and move. Your vision will clear. Just get up and move!

That was all I could tell myself and that was all it took to force me to my feet. Looking behind me, I saw his car had skid to a stop and he was already turning around and coming after me. And this time, he wasn't going a steady 40 miles per hour in comparison to the screeching speed he was going now.

On my feet, I couldn't be any more thankful that I could walk or run. Because that was exactly what I needed to do. I ran off to the other side of the road and sprinted into the woods as best as I could. I knew I needed to go faster but I couldn't; I needed a bit to recover. I was covered in my own blood, my skin wet and torn up. But that didn't stop me from moving as best as I could and under the cover of the woods, my bare feet pounding hard into the ground.

It was so dark and I couldn't see - which was exactly what I needed to stay hidden. I heard his truck approaching and come to a stop. He was going to come after me like I knew he would. Only on foot and not in his truck since I was in the limiting woods. He was coming but the last thing I wanted to do was hide yet. I needed to get far enough away from him first. And that's exactly what I did. I ran for my life, not to just get away anymore. I ran back towards my house through the woods, the small light shinning down from the moon enough to light up the shadows of the trees. I just needed to watch my feet with where I stepped because I could easily trip.

It seemed like the longest run of my life. And I knew I could never get far enough away from him. I knew he was behind me. What made it worse: gun shots. They began to echo in the air and I knew he was shooting randomly towards my direction, to either scare me or on the possibility he might hit me. I didn't know. I did know it did more than scare me though. Hiding no longer seemed like much of an option if he was firing at me and I knew he was still too close. I needed to go faster, harder.... I tried with all my damn might. Shots kept firing and with every one, my insides started to shake more. My breath was hard and I felt something wet and sticky slide down my forehead and I knew it was more blood. The feel of it was all over me, bleeding. I must have hit my head or something but I wasn't going to let that stop me. Especially when that asshole is shooting at me. I never felt so threatened in my life, I would welcome the peace of just crying.