Page 53 of Refusing Kendall

“Every car past 2014 or something has those safety latches, right?”

Silence meets my question, and I nod to myself, immediately wishing I didn’t as it makes me dizzy to the point of seeing spots again.

Maneuvering my body around the small space, trying not to move my head too much, I search for my one lifeline. When my hand closes around the small ring hanging from the top of the trunk, I almost cry tears of joy.

My victory is short lived, however. I yank the little pull string ring as hard as I can, and nothing happens. By the third attempt, I’m giving it all I’ve got, even trying to use my knees as leverage. Nothing. Son of a bitch must have done something to it. Those tears flow freely now, though not from joy anymore. Unless we make a stop somewhere that I can scream for help and have someone hear me, there’s nothing I can do but lie here like a sitting duck.

I’m staring at that little sliver of light when it feels like the car hits a hole in the road. With my back still against the floor, my head bounces up then bumps back down into the floor. It’s not hard, and on a good day, I’d be able to laugh it off. However, today is anything but. Wait a second, if I’m seeing light coming through that crack, then it’s been hours since I was abducted. There’s no telling how long we’ve been driving.

I wish like holy hell that I would have had my phone in my purse. Hold up. A memory jolts through my brain. Sure enough, when I feel around me, my purse is still thrown over my shoulder. I scoot it out from under me where I’m laying on it. With my hands still bound, I root around inside my purse in search of my keys, and hopefully, the little keychain of pepper spray. My hands come up empty, and I sigh in defeat. Of course, he’d search me before tossing me into the back of a vehicle.

I wonder if he closed the front door on his way out. If not, our electric bill is going to be insane. Fuck, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I focus?All this stupid babble running through my head right now makes no kind of sense. My brain hurts in the worst kind of way. All of my thoughts are jumbled, and I can’t seem to focus on any one thing for too long. Psycho must have hit me harder than it seemed.

When I reach up to check the spot above my ear, it’s so fucking tender that my eyes water at the light touch. As I pull away, there’s a stickiness on my fingers. There’s no telling how much blood I’ve already lost, and I’ve probably got a concussion on top of that. Head wounds always bleeds the worst, and since it’s just sticky not wet, I’m hoping that means it’s quit bleeding. Silver lining. Thanks to a bad concussion Goose got last year, in a manner not too different from what went down here, I know I can’t fall asleep again. At least not for a few hours, anyways.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a problem. Right now, I feel like my ears are stuffed with cotton balls and that damn ping pong ball won’t quit bouncing. Needless to say, none of that is helping my thoughts stay focused.

To keep myself awake, I think of the guys. That should help me not be so scatterbrained.

Lucas’ smile is the first thing that pops into my head. My dear sweet Lucas. He was the first one that really made me feel again last year. Showing up at my school and dragging a story out of me that I’d been hiding, even from myself, for years. Remembering our many of firsts underneath the stars makes me hope that we’ll get the chance to do it again.

Next Teagan comes to mind. Even though we were mad at each other when they left, I’ll never stop loving the temperamental caveman. Just thinking of his laugh and carefree spirit brings a smile to my own face that has me wincing in pain.

The ache immediately bumps my thoughts to Goose. I don’t know what’s gotten into that thick, stubborn head of his, but something’s got to give. What I wouldn’t give to have known then what I know now. Things would be so different. I would have fought harder to not allow him to push me away.

It’s what Mav did when I first met all of them. He shoved so hard that it took Gramps passing away for us to realize just how much we really did care for each other. Stuck in a trunk, headed only psycho knows where,withsaid psycho, I can’t help but to wonder why. Why did they try so hard to include me when they didn’t know me from Tom, Dick, or Harry? Why did they choose to share me, when they’re each more than capable of getting girlfriends? I once thought they needed me to help anchor them together. With a point well proven this year, that’s not the case at all. I’ve driven everyone further apart, and Lucas has been the one holding us together. So, why then? Why even bother to love me at all?

Before I’m able to lose myself down that dark pit, I feel the car roll to a stop. After a few more stop and go motions, I start to hear gravel underneath the tires of the car. There are a couple of whoosh sounds that remind me of cars passing down the road. If I’m lucky, that’s what it is. There’s no way this idiot would be stupid enough to kill me in broad daylight on what sounds like a busy road, right?

Tension floods my body when the engine is shut off. I find myself straining to hear any sounds around me. There’s a soft creak of a door, followed by a slam when it’s shut. Heavy boots dislodge gravel from the door to the back of the car, making it very easy to track where they are. My heart feels like it’s beating in sync with the pounding in my head. They are definitely in competition right now.

I fumble around one last time, hoping there’s something in here with me that I can use. I barely contain a scream when I hear keys clang against the metal of the car seconds before it opens to reveal sunlight so blinding that I have no choice but to close my eyes.

There’s a gruff grunt before I’m grabbed by the cuffs around my wrists and yanked out of the car. I have to open my eyes to make sure I don’t fall on my face, and yet, I’m still at risk when my head swims so hard that I see double. The man in front of me sneers down at me, and I swear to god there’s something so familiar about his face. It’s almost like having déjà vu.

In the back of my mind, I slowly register that we were in my Malibu the whole time. Fucker stole meandmy car. I’m dramatically swaying on my feet, making him think that I’m as helpless as a little field mouse. That’s when he makes a mistake and leaves me my opening. When he leans in to get something else out of the trunk, I put a foot against his ass and push as hard as I can. He grunts and drops my keys in the dirt when he tries to brace himself.

I waste no time sweeping them up, but I must be moving slower than I realized. Suddenly, he’s back in my face as I raise up. Weeks ago, when I purchased the little pepper spray container, I made sure that I knew exactly how to use it, even in the dark. It’s nothing to flip the little switch over one handed, and when he reaches for me, I bring it level with his eyes and hold the button down.

He howls with pain as he brings his hands up in front of his face. If my brain wasn’t so rattled, the smart thing to do would be to knee this fucker in the balls and run his ass over in my car. As it stands, I can barely focus. Instinct has me dropping the now empty can and sprinting as fast as I can back towards the road. Someone will surely stop, if they see me being chased by a lunatic.

I don’t get that far.

I’m ripped off my feet, literally, by my hair, which causes my vision to go black again for a second. Then as my body crashes to the ground, I’m pretty sure I lose myself to the darkness for a few. When my eyes open again, he’s on top of me.

One would think that a douchebag psycho would have bad breath, but he doesn’t. There’s a strong scent of spearmint when he leans down almost touching our noses together, “That was stupid, little girl.” If it wasn’t for him being a total headcase, he could almost be cute. His dirty-blonde hair is cut short around the edges, leaving some longer up top. Ice-blue eyes glare back at me. They’d probably be lady-killing eyes if they weren’t bloodshot and surrounded by a red rash from the pepper spray.

For some reason, my brain finds that entire sentence hilarious, and a laugh escapes me before I can contain it. He’s going to kill me, and I just thought he has lady-killing eyes. My next laugh is cut short when he slaps me hard across the face. Black spots dance in my vision, but the pain doen’t pull me under this time.

“Get up,” he growls in a voice that could rival a thirty-year chain-smoker. “If you try to pull any bullshit like that again, I’ll break your fucking legs. Understood?”

I nod, even though he’ll have to break them to keep me hostage. I’m not rolling over on my back and going down without a fight. He jerks me upright by my arms again. Prodding me in the back, he walks us over to a picnic table off to the side. I don’t want to sit like a dog when he commands me to, but I don’t have enough energy left in me at the moment to be defiant just for the sake of it. I need to recover from hitting my head again on the ground when he jerked me down. Plus, if we’re sitting at a table in the open, it’s less likely that’ll he’ll try anything stupid.

“At least the view isn’t bad,” I say out loud by accident. Ignoring his scowl, I scan the surroundings around us. We’re sitting right on one of those overlook places for tourists to stop and admire the view on their way through whatever podunk town we’re in. I’m not sure how far up we are, but it seems to be pretty high considering I can see some of the slope down off to my left.

Once the trees become boring, I get the nerve to ask him the question that’s been playing on repeat since I woke up in the trunk, “Why are you doing this?”

He stares out at the road, completely ignoring me and my question.

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