Page 38 of Take A Chance

The car was waiting, though, parked in the alley with the engine still running. The men shoved me in the back seat, and for a moment I was alone. I thought about sliding across the bench seat and opening the other door, making a run for it. But they had guns, and I had nothing—not even my phone. I couldn’t outrun them, not as tired as I was, and I couldn’t defend myself. My only hope was to speak to my father rationally, convince him the plot on his life was not my doing, that Louie had hidden everything from me. I didn’t even know who he was.

I wanted to stay rational, to keep a level head, but the moment my father climbed into the back of the car and sat across from me, I began blubbering like an idiot. He carried a shiny silver weapon, held in his hand, ready to shoot. His cigar smoke made me cough. I waved it out of my face.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked, whimpering. I scooted as far away from him as I could, pressing my body into the door as the driver took off.

“Amelia, that is the last thing I want to do. Though I will do it if you don’t start obeying me. Every man has his limits.” He put the cigar in his mouth and took a drag. The end lit up, casting an orange glow over his face.

“Where are you taking me, then?” Shivering with fear, I wiped my tears away. For the moment I was safe. He wasn’t going to kill me, and the other men weren’t in the car with us.

“Home.” His curt answer came with a cross look, brow furrowed, narrowed eyes. “Where you should have been the past eighteen months.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I stared out the window. From the deli to the house was only a twenty-minute drive. I knew once he had me there, I’d never leave again. That would be that. He’d lock me in, refuse any request for a phone or computer. I’d be his prisoner until I convinced him that I was loyal.

My stomach churned at the thought. I clamped my eyes shut. I was going to throw up. I’d never been so scared in all my life. I wriggled my wrists, fighting at the restraint, but it was no use. They’d tied the knot so tightly I was only hurting myself. The smoke made me gag again, and I tried the button for the window, but the child safety lock was on. I pushed and pushed frantically, needing fresh air, until my stomach started cramping. I pounded on the buttons, and my father just puffed his cigar.

“I’m going to throw up,” I said, beating on the door. “Please... I need air.” My hands hurt. I felt the bile rising in the back of my throat. My father tapped on the glass separating us from the driver, and the car slowed. The moment it stopped, I opened it and leaned out, barely with one foot on the ground before my stomach emptied itself. I stood there heaving, coughing and gagging. Hair fell into my face and the stream of vomit, but my father did not come hold it out of the way.

I sobbed for a moment when I was finished, bent over, leaning against the side of the car. We were on a side street, houses everywhere. I could run, hide between houses, vanish, but they would come and search until they found me. Anyone who helped me would die or be punished.

“Don’t think about running, Amelia.” I heard the gun cock and I froze. “Get back in here.”

I wiped my face as best as I could with my sleeve and got back in the car. The driver shut the door and got back in, taking off toward the house. My father had a smug look on his face as he puffed on his stogie. “What are you going to do next? Piss yourself like one of my hits?”

I said nothing. He didn’t deserve a response. I rode in silence the rest of the way home. We pulled up outside the house, and I noticed that nothing had changed on the outside. The planters out front, the way the weeping maple tree’s branches dangled over the stoop. I was both comforted and repelled by that. As if somehow, the place having burned to the ground would have been a more welcome sight.

“I have things to do, Amelia. You go in and get cleaned up. We’ll have dinner at six. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

I looked at him and noticed no love or compassion in his eyes. I was nothing more than a pawn to him, a body he could manipulate and use for his own purposes. I wondered when I had stopped being his little girl and became whatever it was he thought of me now.

“You’re not coming in?”

“There are three of my men here to watch you. They’ve been instructed to keep you in line by any means necessary but to not kill you. I think you understand what I mean.” He took another drag on his cigar, and I shuddered.

“You’d let them rape me? Beat me? Why? You’re my father.”

“Am I?” His instant loud growl frightened me. I trembled. “Or did I stop being your father when your fiancé tried to kill me with your help?”

I wanted to protest, to argue that I hadn’t known who Louie was, but there was no point. Not here, not like this. I opened the door and climbed out. The car drove away before I even shut the door properly, and I was left on the street alone. I glanced up at the house, hands still tied in front of me. Father was right. Two men stood in the front room, staring out the window at me. Here, I’d have no place to hide. There was no point in trying to run.

I let myself in and shouted, “Come cut these damn ropes off my wrists so I can shower.”

A tall man with short-cropped hair came at me with a pocket knife, a menacing expression on his face. I didn’t shy away. I thrust my arms out and watched as he sliced through the rope easily. When I moved to pull my arms back, he grabbed my wrist and put the tip of the knife blade against my skin, pricking it.

“No phone calls, no trying to run. Got it?”

I yanked my hand away from him and glared at him, rubbing my tender skin. Ignoring his threat, I stomped upstairs to my old room. The door was shut, and everything inside was exactly as I had left it. The bed was made, the portrait of my mother still lying across my bed. I'd wanted to bring it with me, but there was no way to fit it in my bag without damaging it. So I left it.

I shut the door and leaned against it. Without my phone, I had no way of contacting anyone. I was alone, trapped in this prison until my father changed his mind or trusted me. His men would be less forgiving than him, though they learned it from him. The only reason he was merciful was because his blood ran through my veins.

The room had a chill. I nudged the thermostat up a bit and pulled open the curtains to allow light to stream in. A thick layer of dust had collected on the bookshelf where I kept all my favorite bedtime reads. I drew a finger through it and left a clean trail. If only I could wipe my memory clear of the shame and fear that plagued me.

My stomach was still upset, shaken up by the emotional day. I felt like I was going to vomit again, so I walked into my bathroom and flipped on the light. I stared at myself in the mirror, dark circles under my eyes, tear streaks down my round cheeks. I looked like my mother. A lot. She was such a beautiful woman, and she died far too young. I missed her. None of this would have happened if she were here.

I threw up again. This time, my hair was tied back. When my body settled, I decided a shower was in order. I was stuck here, but that didn’t mean I had to be completely uncomfortable. I stripped out of my clothes and turned the water on, letting the steam fill the bathroom and fog the window. There was no shampoo or soap in the shower, so while I let the water get nice and hot, I rifled through the drawers in the vanity.

Shampoo and soap weren’t the only things I found, though. Right on top was a box with a pregnancy test in it. The package had come with two, but I only needed one. I remembered taking that test before I left home, scared that the symptoms I was experiencing at the time were the result of a pregnancy. Louie and I were careful, but I was scared. I knew I could never leave home if I was pregnant, so I’d taken the test, happy to confirm a negative result.

I shut the drawer, taking my shampoo and soap and climbing into the shower. The hot water beat against my skin as I stood there in the shower, letting the soothing heat wash away the stress of the day. I could feel my thoughts begin to drift as I watched the steam swirl around me like a comforting embrace.

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