Page 44 of Judas

FUCK. What if someone let her out?!

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

What the hell am I supposed to do if she’s gone? I was given this one chance and if someone helped her escape, it’s all over with. Generations worth of curses are never going to come to an end and then more will bear the burden of this fall out. A life long mission, gone in a moment of carelessness. Why can’t anyone understand the importance of this? Why must I suffer because the Lord chose me to save the children he casts out like trash?! Where is the little boy who watched the little girl cry over the sun and flowers?

Dead.

“SHUT UP!” I scream, bending over at the waist and letting the timber of my voice carry through the surrounding trees where nothing is returned. The wood absorbing my displeased shout. I keep hold of my hair, fingers flexing rapidly, ready to yank a few roots from their fleshy homes. I need the pain as an outlet because it’s all so damn suffocating. Loneliness, even when surrounded by people. Not belonging anywhere but in my own space. Not a soul understanding the complexity that is myself.

I haven’t had comfort all my life and it’s breaking me apart.

There’s absolutely no way they didn’t see a girl back there and I need to find out. Composing myself, I march over as I initially intended to and lift the trunk open. Dreading the worst, I’m left breathless—stunning blue eyes stare up at me. Rimmed in red from incessant crying, cheeks lined with tear streaks in various stages of drying.

She’s so beautiful like this—vile innocence.

At our last stop, I stuffed a cloth gag into her mouth and secured it with another longer cloth by wrapping it around her head. It’s now wet with her tears and drool. A few days back, we stopped at a motel and I forced her into the shower. She was trying to defy but I couldn’t stand to look at her, nor smell her, in the remnants of my blood and hers. Of course I had to restrain her; she was trying to fight me again, but we eventually got it over with. Clean, redressed, and back in the corner she chose to cry in. With enough time to catch the evening news.

Her arms are secured to her hips by rope so she can’t pull the gag from her mouth, which also restricts her movements. That fact only confuses me further. Checking her over, the dark blue T-shirt I shoved her in, along with a pair of shorts I stole from the motel's laundromat, are rumpled and skewed around her thin frame. Then… then there’s all of the new abrasions on her hands, elbows, and knees. Pink and angry from whatever the hell she did, ‘cause I sure as fuck didn’t put those on her. I’ve beaten her enough.

“What did you do?” I growl.

Sadie shook her head.

Lord, give me strength.

“Did they see you?”

Another shake of her head.

“How?”

Watching her closely, I see as she rolls to the back of the trunk and proceeds to push the rear seats down before crawling into the back of the car. Gently closing them behind her.

Jesus.

She had us all fooled.

Maybe I won’t punish her after all.

Slamming the trunk door where it latches firmly, I step up beside the rear passenger door and open it, her saxe-colored eyes looking up at me. She’s so interesting, something I can’t quite wrap my head around. One moment she’s the mousiest thing you could imagine. Weak, whiney, and subordinate. The next, she’s trying to claw her way through me while we scramble in the dirt like quarreling felines. Now this? What the hell do I do with this? It’s simple intelligence but under duress, most people don’t think of things like drop seats. I sure didn’t.

Kneeling inside of the back seat, I reach for her, my hand abruptly snags her gagged face to wrench her to me. There were a slew of words searing the tip of my tongue, ready to berate her for her ineptitude, but I just can’t seem to let them out. The next best thing? Stare at her in what feels like surprise. Not a feeling I am accustomed to. She tries to pull away, jerking her head side to side a few times while her hands and arms instinctively tug the rope still restraining her. She can’t swing at me, or try to scratch my face to high heaven, while bound this way. It also makes her appear more vulnerable and less of a heathen. There’s a bit of fear in there, but not enough—something else wants to strike back.

“Why did you do that?”

Sadie shrugs and I scowl.

There she goes, back to being stupid.

“Sit up in the seat and stay quiet,” I clip.

Shoving her back, putting distance between us rather than showing dominance, I activate the child safety locks and slamthe door shut. She stirs up confusion inside of me and it’s doing way more harm than good—like she was created specifically to drive me mad. At one point, I figured she would be easy to push around and manipulate, but now? I’m not so sure.

Unnerving silence consumes the drive as we trek into the forest for a few more hours. Once we finally reach the cabin, an aircraft carrier’s worth of weight disappears from my slightly hunched shoulders. It’s a little run down, but it’s not so bad. When you spend your early adulthood finding one shelter after the next, hunting for a place that will not only keep you safe but shield you from the elements, you learn to sleep anywhere. Trees are amazing to wake up under—but I’m sure Princess Pea will not be as appreciative of the accommodations.

I stop the car at the base of a rickety pair of stairs leading up to a hefty-appearing door. All rustic and bare wood, as are most cabins. Trying to maintain the aesthetic, so to speak. Along with the main building, there is a detached garage which I assume used to hold plenty of recreational vehicles and have either been salvaged or left behind to rot once they were scrapped for parts. It’s a good walk away, which lets me know there’s likely a drive between the cabin and the adjacent building. The perfect spot to park the car and get Sadie inside.

While I’m not concerned about people stumbling upon us, I’m not a fan of the stairs. Surely there is another entry point, likely several; I unfortunately don’t have the patience to look for one. Why? Well, that goes without saying.

---