I’m weeping in his hold. It’s pitch black. My body shakes and I feel sick. I must be in some kind of shock because I feel like I’m telling my limbs to do one thing and they aren’t responding. How could he threaten my father so easily? My dad gave him a job, a roof over his head, and his blessing for us to be a couple. Garver likes my dad, at least that’s how he made it appear.

  Oh God! What if everything I ever thought about him was a complete lie? What if all the warnings from my peers were in fact compassionate and true? My mind twists and spins ideas. It’s a sickening feeling to think you’re sure of something so important only to discover it’s nothing as you assumed.

  When I attempt to free myself from my captor, I’m kicked back down and roll onto my back. Pain rips through my side as I wince. I’m doing my best to see through the dark, the night sky shielded by thousands of trees. Crying does nothing in this situation, albeit I’m unable to stop, begging, pleading, and bellowing with everything I have inside of me.

  “Garver, please don’t do this. Please. You don’t want to hurt me. We can work this out.”

  He says nothing as he places the bottom of his dirty shoe onto my face. The pressure is so intense I scrunch my face with my eyes as tight as possible. He’s doing this as he manages to tie my wrists together with something sharp, maybe a plastic zip line. It’s so tight it’s already cutting off my circulation, a beating pulse lingering within my fingertips.

  With my hands restrained, he takes his shoe from my face and slaps me with what I can only picture to be the back of his hand. His shadowy figure walks around my figure until he’s above my head. Whatever he’s wearing is a dark color, either brown, navy blue, or possibly black. I can make out a hood covering his head, preventing me from seeing any detail of his face. Unsure why he’d even bother to hide his identity, Garver leans forward. Because I’m afraid of being hit again, I close my eyes and wait for impact, only to feel a large piece of tape being put over my mouth. Another layer is applied, and when I scream through it I’m kicked in my arm to stop me.

  “Shut up!” He says in a growl. His voice is monstrous. It reminds me of someone possessed by a demon. This is certainly the opposite of his calm, soothing tone. It’s scary and sounds nothing like the person I accidentally gave my heart to.

  The pine needles underneath me prick at my exposed arms.

  Now pleading is off the table. On my back, he takes my hair and twists it around his hand before tugging me backwards, forcing my legs to work opposite to prevent being dragged.

  I can feel the pine needles, moss and twigs being shoved down the waistline of my pants as they catch everything in the direction we’re heading. Hot tears wet my face, both excruciating pain mixed with fear of what’s to come. This isn’t the same Garver who tenderly held me at night. It’s not the same person who had my back and kept me safe. This is a monster, a personality I’ve never even imagined until now. It’s like something inside of him snapped.

  My body aches but the trek through the woods continues, him never letting go of my hair, and my wails against the duct tape only heard by my captor.

  In recent years I’ve thought a lot about death. I’ve pictured different ways of how to end my life. This was not one of them. This is the worst way to go. Being hunted, preyed upon, used, lied to and then tortured and brutally murdered. If he’s this rough with me now, I can only imagine what’s in store once we stop.

  The deeper we get in the forest the thicker the dampness smells. Insects and birds, occasional animal sounds echo off the trees. Every once in a while I capture the moon in the overcast sky, glowing above the tall blanket of trees. It’s not until my cell phone rings when we make a sudden stop. With no regard for me, he’s searching my pockets until it’s pulled out. Garver isn’t facing me, so I can only see the back of him as he breaks the device in half and kneels down to bury it in a few inches of dirt. While he’s focused I twist at the binding on my hands with no luck of getting free.

  He speaks with gritted teeth and another creepy growl. “The more you fight the worse it’s going to be.”

  I want to beg. I want to tell him even this can be forgiven. I’ll say anything to be free. I’ll do anything.

  A screech beneath the tape expels when he begins yanking me backwards again. I’m directed over fallen limbs, through shallow puddles, and other debris for so long it feels like hours. The tears continue, though I’m crying to someone who isn’t even listening. The person I thought I knew is long gone.

  Finally, just when my legs give out and refuse to move anymore, I’m shoved against something hard. A structure. No wait, I can’t see it well, but I know this place. It’s the shack he took me to on my birthday. It really hits me full circle. I’ve been living with an evil person who planned this whole assault. This is his greatest revenge. He couldn’t just run us out of town, or burn the place down so we had to leave. This is personal. He gouged out my eyes in those pictures because his vendetta made him blind to everything except his master plan. This is the endgame. Garver articulated a persona he knew I couldn’t resist. He made sure he was everything I needed. I gave myself to him so easily. I let him take me, fuck me, and pretend to love me. I let all of this happen. Everything was a game to him. Our whole relationship was a scheme to win my trust so that he could get us to this very moment. The bile rises but I swallow it back. I can’t afford to choke to death before I get my last chance to escape.

  Since I’ve been here before, I sort of know how to get home, at least a somewhat direction. All I have to do is wait and hope I have the opportunity to run.

  Once inside the shack, my feet are strapped to a chair. Garver refrains from lighting candles, instead running into things left and right, as if he’s forgotten where he put them. I can see his figure, but have no insight on what comes next.

  The sound of something sliding across the cold ground alarms me. I writhe in fear, mentally unable to fathom what he’s about to do to me.

  Garver made it a point to tell me no one knew this place existed. No one will find me. Even if they get lucky, it will probably be too late.

  I think about my father, already losing the love of his life, our family home, our savings and livelihood. He won’t survive losing me. He will drink himself to death. Maybe worse. Maybe he will be next on Garver’s list. Thinking about it breaks me. I’m losing all sense of hope. I’m not going to survive this. Garver is going to kill me and then play the victim card. Everyone will feel sorry for him. He’s played the perfect part.

  More sobs fill the room until something hard hits the back of my chair. The sound of tape unraveling, then it being wrapped again and again around something large, my chair and my body. He’s making it so I can’t flip the chair and break it free. When it’s too tough to wiggle, he stops and pulls my hair back, dragging his lips against my ear. “Stay put. You’ll have company soon enough.” The way he says it, so low, so aggressive, sounds like a possessed person on a scary movie. It’s terrifying.

  Footfalls become non-existent, the door shuts and I hear a lock being fastened on the outside.

  Then silence.

  Seconds pass.

  Minutes.

  It has to be hours now.

  I’ve fought. I’ve attempted to free myself, to scream for help. I’m exhausted. My back burns. I know some of the scrapes are bleeding, because it tickles when the blood line drips down to my pants. My body is stiff. Everything throbs. I’m almost grateful it’s probably almost over. I’m unsure how much more of this I can take.

  Chapter 20

  Exhaustion must have taken over. My eyelids flutter open to see cracks of light seeping into the old shack. With the exception of items being knocked around in the dark struggle, it’s exactly how I remember it.

  My throat is dry, sticking as I attempt to swallow. Every part of me hurts. Even if I could move, I’d be unable to get far. Pins and needles run through both legs. My arms ache from being forced into the same clapped position for so long. My eyes burn from crying, and my head throbs.

  I almost hate that it’s day time, because I don’t want to look into his eyes. I almost wish I could just fade off and die before he has the chance to kill me.

  More time passes.

  The crickets are starting to call to one another. A heavy rain falls silencing the whole forest. It reawakens so loudly my ears hum with insect calls. The sun is now setting. I’ve dozed in and out all day, my growling stomach usually the only reason I wake. Beginning to wonder if he’ll return at all, or just let me rot out here to die alone, I hope for the latter. It’s better than being tortured, raped, and God only knows what else. All this time alone and I’m still unable to grasp the lengths Garver went to make this happen. How could he be so genuine? For goodness sakes, he helped my father with a new business venture. He worked on the house. He did us favors left and right. He articulated the perfect alibi. How could someone so devoted to the two of us want to cause us harm? He may never be accused of this. I could rot out here for years before anyone stumbles upon my remains. What will happen to my dad? Is he still alive? Is he looking for me or did Garver spend the whole day away getting rid of my father and any evidence linking him to the crime?

  Hate floods my mind. I don’t understand how I could feel so much love for someone only to turn around and hate the person they really turned out to be, but I do. I loathe the idea of ever seeing him again. I hope a truck hits him. I hope a star falls from the sky and lights his ass into a blaze. I hope he burns slowly, suffering the most pain possible. It still won’t make up for this betrayal, but it makes a minute amount of pleasure overpower the distaste.

  The dark of night suffocates me. My throat is so dry it feels like the windpipe is closed. Crying makes everything worse. There’s no use calling out for help. No one is coming. Eventually my body will stop fighting. Eventually my organs will shut down, sooner than later without a water source. It’s only a matter of time before I stop comprehending normal thoughts. Even the fighting trek here seems like a distant memory. As I will myself to stay awake, my memories travel to better places. Past Christmases with my parents. The first time I ever rode my bike. The way my mother smiled whenever we walked in a room. How my dad would crumble whenever she wanted something we didn’t need. I thought about our summer vacations at the beach, and as the temperature inside of the shack dipped, it helped me at least pretend the beating down sun warmed me.

  Twenty-four hours had passed. Another morning sky filled the space. I memorized the details of the shack, the random items collected in this secret shelter. I imagined all of the things here that could be used as weapons, both to harm me or free me. None were within reach, but it was the thought that kept me lucid.

  I’ve peed myself four times since being tied to this chair. The smell of urine is so strong it’s making my eyes burn. Dehydration is in full effect now. I have no urge to relieve myself. Even my soiled pants have dried again. My head bobs up and down and I struggle to stay awake. There’s no telling how many times I’ve dozed off or if two days have really been more. Even the pain seems to be less, or perhaps I’m so used to it that I can’t even feel it anymore. I’m delirious. I’ve mentally prepared for what comes next. All I can hope is that it happens when I’m asleep and it’s quick. I just want to sleep and never wake back up. I’m sure it’s why I’m fighting to keep my eyes open. If I let them fall I may never see another living person again. On the other hand, I dream of seeing my mother again. She’s waiting for me. I heard her last night calling for me. Her voice was a far off echo, but it was there.

  I’m ready now. I’ve stopped fighting. The dried blood on my wrists are proof of that. It’s so lonely here. So much waiting on the inevitable. So much praying for a miracle that will never come to light.

  Goodbye world. Goodbye life. Goodbye future. Goodbye Daddy.

  My head springs up as it’s being jerked back. A voice behind me sounds desperate but muffled. He’s brought someone else here. My first thought is my father. I’m so close to death as it is and he wants him to watch me go before he falls to the same fate. Another kind of hurt hits me. Not my father. Not this way. Don’t make him watch. Don’t make him see me take my final breaths.

  “Don’t stop crying on my account!” The angry growl of a familiar voice halts the pleas. “Miss me?” He asks lowly at my side. All I’m able to do is close my eyes and silently plead that he doesn’t sexually assault me in front of my dad.

  I’m too weak to fight. He could unbind me and I’d probably fall limp on the ground. No one can save us now. There’s no one to save us.

  While stuck in my restrained position, Garver works to silence the man behind me. My chair jerks as he slides another into whatever mine is attached to. The movement of the person, my father, trying to fight only makes me shake more. At least he won’t be able to see me dying. We’re back to back. It’s better than the alternative.

  At least we’re not alone. A new mantra repeats in my mind. We’ll go out together. We’ll see mom and hopefully live together as a family somewhere better where this type of violence doesn’t exist, where pain doesn’t exist.

  The room is spinning. I’m dizzy and everything is blurry. All of a sudden a dark figure stands in front of me. He’s tall and I don’t have the strength to look up at his face. I honestly don’t want his face to be the last thing I see, so I don’t even try. I just listen, because quite frankly, it’s all I’m able to do at this point.

  The tape rips from my dry lips, a sudden sting and rapid burn covers them. My skin must have come off onto the adhesive. I taste blood, and instinct forces me to run my tongue over it as if it’s sustenance. “Thirsty?” He asks in a low murmur.

  I nod. A water bottle is opened and he dumps it out only inches from my lips with a snarl. “Stupid bitch! Stupid, stupid bitch.”

  I’m trying to speak. My lips are bleeding on the outside and sticking together from dryness on the inside. My teeth drag across them. “Please.” My throat is sticking together. I’m coughing. Tears fill my eyes and they blind me.

  He laughs and steps behind me. I hear the sound of a punch and feel the chair move, followed by a groan from the person I’m tied to. Then another punch. Moaning.

  “You should have never lived in my house.” He says it as if it’s the only reason we are in this position. “Have fun rotting together.”

  When he says it I’m so out of it I barely recognize his voice. In fact, my mind searches for my Dad’s voice and I can’t recall the sound. It’s all there, yet unreachable. My brain is mush.

  The door slams shut, the lock fastening again. Footfalls fade until only the sniffles of the person behind me remain.

  It’s so hard to speak. It’s getting dark in the space again, not that it matters. I’m facing the same wall. My vision is obstructed.

  “Daddy,” I manage.

  Muffled sounds come from the person behind me. My father has tape over his mouth. I can’t understand him, even though he’s trying to talk to me. Even my tears are starting to dry up. My body has been without fluids for entirely too long.

  For a long time we try to communicate before I fall asleep. When I wake this time it’s because my chair is being jerked. My father is doing something in an attempt to free us. The wooden chair creaks but we aren’t moving more than an inch at a time.

  I pass out again.

  The hood of my eyes barely lift when another forceful jolt wakes me. This time the chair moves further. My ears can clearly make out the feel and sound of it being kicked. “Did you free a leg?” I call out.

  “Mmmhmm,” he says under the tape.

  I want to tell him to keep going, but I lose consciousness again.

  A loud whack and pain ripping through my side tells me we’ve tipped over. Some kind of liquid is pouring all around me from somewhere. That’s when I come to realize he’d tied me to a water bucket that was full. I hadn’t even thought of it before. Now that we’ve tipped the weight has been relieved. I hear the sound of wood snapping, more banging as I struggle to move, but remain restrained. The last bit of adrenaline flows through me as I begin to imagine we could survive this. We’ve been left for dead, but we could survive this.

  Dad tries to free himself until he too falls victim to his own exhaustion. It’s excruciating in this position, but I’m able to lap up some of the dirty water into my mouth before the puddles around me dissolve and dry. It’s not enough to replenish me, not even close, but it’s something. The small amount makes me gag, a putrid taste of filth hitting my tongue.

  I know we’re one step away from getting somewhere, getting out of here, but it may be too late for me. I’m weak. I think some of my organs are shutting down. I feel like I’m no longer in my body and I’m cold - so cold.

  My dad keeps fighting for our lives. Whichever foot he’s managed to get free is doing all the work. There’s banging that causes my ears to begin to ring so loud that it’s amplified. My body is jerked around as he fights to free us, desperate to save our lives before Garver can return. The plastic tub that had been placed between us now smashed and irrelevant. I haven’t even begun to think of what I’ll say to my dad once we’re safe. All I care about is being freed and calling the police.

  There’s a sudden looseness that I haven’t felt since being bound. Along with my ears, my vision remains blurred, my body continues to weaken. A knife is being used to free my subdued hands, followed by my feet. My limbs remain limp on the cold ground, the night forest closing in the darkness around me. I’m being lifted. A voice, my father’s? Wait. I’m in the arms of someone strong. They’re carrying me over to the couch. When I’m situated on the old dirty cushions I’m left alone. A candle is lit and in the illumination I capture my hero for the first time.