Willing Captive(13)

Shuffling over, my heart races as I take hold of the white painted steel. I’m not exactly fond of heights. I clutch the gutter tightly but my hands sweat so much that I can’t get a good grip.

I wonder what would happen if I fell? Would I land on my feet?

I think that’s a great way to break your feet. You are not a cat. You know this, right?

Hmmm. True. I close my eyes and try to steady myself by taking deep breaths.

It’s now or never. Don’t be a chickenshit, just do it.

Okay. I wipe my hands on my sweats and clasp the gutter again. Lifting one sneaker-covered foot, I check the grip I can get on it. It’s not bad. Not great, either. I start to climb down, chanting softly, “Foot. Hand. Foot. Hand.”

Half way down, I smile when I realize I’m almost there. Just as I mentally cheer, my grip comes loose, my eyes widen and I mouth ‘oh shit.’ Then I fall backwards into air and it almost feels like time stops. Everything passes in slow motion. It takes what feels like hours before my back connects with the ground. The thud rattles my brain. I wheeze and double over.

I’m winded.

Mothertrucker!

Tears blur my vision as my body throbs with pain. The pressure builds in my ears and I gasp when I can finally take in a breath. Shaking my head, I stand on wobbly legs, look around, and then run. I run fast and the heavy pillowcase slaps me on the back with every step I take away from the house. My escape loot suddenly feels heavier and heavier. In a panic, I throw it to the side and run faster.

My heart plummets into my gut when I see a wall in the distance.

A very high wall. Perhaps twelve-feet tall.

Shit!

I run the length of the wall looking for some form of exit. My heart races and my face flushes in aggravation.

No. No. No!

This wasn’t meant to happen! I need to get out of here.

I approach what seems to be the only exit to this house and, f*ck my life, it’s manned. Two men inside a small room sit and talk while watching what looks to be a CCTV of some kind. Oh, damn. I didn’t know there would be cameras here. I hadn’t factored that in. I stand and run in the opposite direction toward the back of the house. It takes about four minutes in a full sprint. This house is damn big.

I’m sweating, I’m frustrated, and I’m about to give up when angels sing in my ear. A gate. There’s a damn gate! Thank you, Jesus!

Smiling big, I place my hands on the lever handle and push down.

Clunk

Shit! No! NO!

The effing gate is locked! My throat clogs and I choke out a sob, while pressing down the lever hard and fast repeatedly as if that’ll somehow make it unlock. Tears fall down my face and I nod in resolve. Only one thing to do now.

Climb the wall.

Lifting my foot high to the lever handle of the gate, I let out a yelp when something grips my ponytail tight as well as the waist of my pants and drags me backwards. Reaching up, I hold onto the strong hand that still holds my ponytail firmly. I’m being dragged along like a freakin’ dog. My mouth opens and filth spews out, “Let go of me, you f*cker! I knew you were full of shit! Protecting me, my ass!”

Suddenly, I’m thrown by my hair onto the porch. My scalp throbs. I look up and I almost wish I hadn’t. A fuming Nox stands in front of me. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “Get in the f*ckin’ house, Lily.”

Standing on unsteady legs, I stand as tall as I can and whisper shakily, “No.”

“Get in the house.” His cheek tics.

A little stronger, I repeat myself, “No.” My voice strained.

The veins in his neck bulge when he roars, “Get in the f*cking house!”

My entire body jerks in shock and I shut my eyes tightly. Bringing my balled fists up to my temples, I screech, “No! You can’t make me!”

My nose tingles and I hate myself for wanting to feel the sweet release of the tears that are stuck behind my closed eyes.

A soft hand gently squeezes my shoulder. I hear Boo tell Nox, “Go on. I’ll take her inside.”

Boo’s hands gently pry my fists away from my head. She coos, “Come on, Deedee. Let’s go up to your room and have a little talk.”

I’m devastated. I just want to go home. I choke on a sob, “I want to talk to my dad.”

Boo nods, “Okay. Let me talk to Nox. I’ll do my best, but,” she looks around cautiously, “you’ve seen him. If he says no, it means no.”

Putting her arm around my waist, she guides me up the stairs and into my room. I’m too exhausted to argue and let her lead me gently but firmly. Once we reach my room, I throw myself on the bed dramatically and she chuckles, “So, you went all MacGyver, huh?”

My top lip twitches and I have the insane urge to burst into laughter. I explain, “No way. If I were MacGyver, I totally would’ve gotten away. MacGyver is badass.”

Boo walks around the bed and lays on it next to me. “You know, I had the biggest crush on MacGyver when I was younger. I don’t know whether it was his wittiness or that silky blonde mullet, but,” she sighs, “I really had it bad for him.”

My twitch turns into a smile, “Although the silky mullet is mighty tempting, I think it was his scrappiness I liked most.”

Boo blinks. “Scrappiness? What the hell is scrappiness?”

I roll my eyes at her. “Oh, c’mon! He could use anything normal and make it extraordinary. He was scrappy!”