Page 19 of Traces of Her

Twelve

ROWENA

I’M FUCKED.

Jared guides me down the street and stops beside an all-white van. Pulling open the back door, he roughly grabs my arm and throws me inside. I fall hard, smacking my face on the cold metal ridges of the floor. My head throbs as he jerks me upright and moves behind me. Blood drips from my face, staining my shirt. “Is this really necessary?” I ask Jared, as he pulls a zip tie tight around my wrists and throws a black pillowcase over my head.

“I’m not taking any chances with you,” he snaps and slams the door shut. My eyelids flutter against the soft pillowcase, but it’s too dark for me to see any bit of light. I’m left with only my other senses, which are restricted too. The van dips down as he climbs in and starts the engine. I hear him close his door and throw the van into drive. My body is jostled around as we head down the street, hitting every pothole.

We drive for a few minutes or it could be a few hours for all I know.

“So, where are we going?” I inquire, scooting closer to the wall of the van.

Jared laughs harshly. “We’re going to fuckin’ McDonald’s, where else?” The sarcasm drips from his voice. “You want a Happy Meal? You know, the ones that come with a toy?”

I sit silently as his cackling filled the small space in the van. If I was going to get away from him, I’d have to be smart about it or have some elaborate plan. Shit, I don’t even know. He’s so irrational and illogical, he literally makes no sense and there’s no reasoning with him whatsoever. He’s impulsive and out of his mind. However, I’ve noticed that every now and then he has thoughts that do make sense or he says something that isn’t him being a complete psychopath.

Either way… I’m fucked.

We drive in silence for quite some time before we abruptly come to a stop and Jared kills the engine. I hear him exit the car and he slides open the door to the back. Wrapping his hand around my bicep, he pulls hard, practically dragging me out of the van. I stumble and scrambled to my feet before I hit the ground.

“Jesus Christ, stand much?” he huffs as I gain my balance, pushing back my shoulders and standing straight. “Let’s go,” he says, roughly grabbing me and blindly drags me along with him. He slows down. “There’s steps. Don’t piss me off and fucking trip.”

I make it up the small steps without faltering and am brought inside of a building. He slams me down into a chair and rips the pillowcase from my head. Jared pulls out his phone and I glance around, taking in my surroundings and realize that we’re inside a house. The walls are bare, the windows boarded shut and the furniture is scarce and old looking. There’s a red plaid matching couch and the armchair I’m sitting in and a T.V. in the room.

Jared looks up from his phone. “Fuck,” he says, suddenly glaring at me. “FUCK!” he yells and kicks the chair I’m in. He taps on his phone and brings it up to his ear, still glaring at me. “Come here now,” he barks into the phone. He listens and narrows his eyes even more. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing. I’ll fucking destroy you if you don’t get here now,” he growls, hanging up the phone. He shoves it into his pocket and continues to stare at me.

“What is it with you?” he asks with curious eyes.

I cock my head to the side, confused by his sudden curiosity. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Something’s not right with you,” he declares.

I let out a light laugh. “Like you’re one to be talking.”

He strides toward me and leans down, grabbing my shoulders. He gives me a good shake, putting his face in mine. “Who the fuck do you think you are, you little bitch?” Droplets of his saliva spray onto my face.

I raise my eyebrows and smile, not answering his questions. He pushes me backward into the chair and backs away. “See?” He throws his hands up. “Do you think you’re tough or some shit? You should be shitting your pants right now. What the fuck do you think is going to happen here?”

I shrug. “I guess I’ll find out.”

“What the fuck,” he mumbles, gripping his hair. “Why are you not afraid of me? You’re supposed to be afraid of me,” he says with the anxiety evident in his voice. This is another side of him, one that I haven’t seen before. He needs to be in constant control, and he feels like he’s losing it. And in reality, he’s the one who’s scared now.

But fear isn’t always good.

Sometimes fear can be the most dangerous feeling of all.

Again, I simply shrug. “I have nothing to lose.” I don’t give him any more or any less.

In a rush, he’s in front of me. “Fucking bullshit,” he growls. I don’t see it coming, but I feel the back of his hand come across the side of my face. His knuckles slam into my cheekbone and the side of my eye. The force knocks me to the side, my head landing on the armrest. I can barely think or see straight from the impact and a loud sound rings in my ears. I blink, trying to regain focus and see him walking out of the room, leaving me alone in a daze.

Some time passes before the haze in my mind subsides. The side of my face throbs from his hand and the swelling that followed. I never bothered to move my head from the armrest. Half sitting and half laying isn’t comfortable, especially with my hands tied behind my back. But moving wouldn’t be an easy feat either and I don’t have the energy right now.

My mind drifts to Charlie’s dead body lying in his room. I wonder if anyone has noticed yet or if the cops were ever called. I doubt it. Where he lived, the cops only showed up if there was a raid or something. People knew that you never called them. He’ll probably lay there until his body starts to decompose.

A noise comes from outside of the house and suddenly the front door is ripped open. Light from outside shines in through the doorway.

“Jared!” a smooth, velvet voice booms, echoing through the room as the door slams. My head throbs even more.

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