Last Call

by Michele G Miller

  Dad shook his head. "I asked him why he was being secretive and he said he really didn't intend to be, but that you’d never asked about his job. I think perhaps if he was honest with himself he would have to admit that he was testing you in some way. He wanted to find someone who wanted him for himself - much like you do."

  "His phone goes straight to voicemail," I told them as I fingered the silver cuff from the little white box. I knew I shouldn't be wearing it since he hadn’t technically given it to me, but I was compelled to wear it on my skin.

  "Savannah honey, that man has deep feelings for you. He made his intentions very clear with me when he was here that he was serious about you. He was just waiting for you to get over some of the demons of your past - or at least that's what he said."

  "I want to go home today."

  "I don't think that's a good idea, honey. Drive home tomorrow."

  "No, I don't want to wait. Dad, I need to go home and talk to him. He's never in the bar on Monday mornings, so I can go to his place and catch him."

  My parents begged me to wait to drive home and see him the next evening instead, but I disagreed and eventually they understood. But before I could leave, there was one last thing I wanted to tell them.

  Now that things were out in the open with my mother’s past and Gage's family, I decided that my own secret needed to be shared.

  Shocking my father into tears, I explained how I had been taking classes to obtain a double major in Art History and Business.

  "I want to be able to run GW someday. It's in my blood."

  They were both taken aback and proud, and I felt horrible that I’d kept my schooling choices from them for so long. As I packed mine and Gage's bags, my mother made a quick late lunch before I got on the road. We spent the meal reconnecting and talking, and I had to admit that it was good to be a family again without all of the obligations of the past smothering me.

  Around three o’clock I headed home, prepared to shamelessly beg Gage to forgive me. As I listened to the radio and snuck glances at the bracelet on my wrist, my heart was full of optimism that he would eventually come around and we could finally start building some dreams together.

  Sunday - June 17, 2013

  Unexpected Company

  It took every ounce of my concentration to drive myself home. I called Gage twice and left voicemails telling him I wanted to talk with him, and told him again how sorry I was. When I pulled up to my house at ten o'clock that night I was utterly exhausted. Popping my trunk, I grabbed what luggage I could handle and half-dragged, half-carried the bags to the door. I left the heavier of the two at the bottom of the stairs, knowing I would need both hands to carry them up the steps.

  God, I can't wait for a hot shower and a good night’s sleep, I thought to myself as I tugged the keys out of my pocket and balanced my bags on my shoulders. Slipping my key into the deadbolt, I noticed that it kept spinning around, but the tumblers weren’t catching to unlock. The lock must have finally broken, and for a moment I was tempted to just sit on the step and cry. Calling a locksmith so I could get into my house after a long drive was the last thing I wanted to do at this time of night. Dropping my toiletry bag from my shoulder, I cursed and kicked the bottom of the door to cathartically release my pent up frustration.

  I twisted the key once more and then tried the handle again, instantly feeling the door swing open. Standing in the doorway was a man, and the bright light behind him obscured his face so that all I could make out was his dress clothes and the flowers he held. For a quick flash I thought it was Gage, and relief flooded through me like the banks of a swollen river breaking through a dam. I almost broke down right there…until the man spoke.

  "Welcome home, Savannah," he said; his voice low like the first time I’d heard it.

  My reflexes sent me moving backwards once I realized it was Ryan from The Painter's Palette. In my home. I stumbled over the bag I'd dropped and grabbed the post before I fell down the steps.

  "What the…?" I spluttered, and tried to detangle my feet from the straps of the bag.

  "Don't be frightened. I made you dinner since I knew you would be tired after such a long trip. Come on in." He reached out and grasped my wrist tightly.

  A whimper worked its way up my throat as I tried to register what was happening. I opened my mouth to scream and readied my muscles for a fight when he did something unexpected. Kicking his foot out, he swept my legs out from under me and I collapsed to the floor. His hand maintained an iron grip on my arm, and as I twisted and fell, pain ripped through my shoulder; causing me to shout out.

  The next thing I knew he was bent over me with one hand wrapped around my chin and mouth and the other yanking me roughly by the arm into the house. I fought to open my mouth to produce a scream or bite his palm, but I couldn't even get it open. His hand tasted salty with sweat when I tried to move my mouth and use my teeth.

  He pulled my body over the bouquet of flowers he evidently dropped when he attacked me, and kicked the door shut behind me.

  Waves of terror rushed through my veins when he tried to twist me over onto my stomach. Not willing to go down without a fight, I went over every self-defense move I could think of. I scissor-kicked my legs, but had no leverage in the position I was in. Thinking of the few times I'd seen him, I never would have thought him to be as powerful as he was.

  When I wouldn't roll over to my front, he twisted my arm to the center of my back and yanked on it until I thought it would snap. I mumbled for mercy and screeched under the palm that still covered my face. Giving into the pain, my body stopped fighting long enough for him to roll me over, and he brusquely shoved my face into the floor. He mounted me, sitting on my upper thighs, and his legs pinned mine together to prevent me from kicking out again.

  He grunted while he struggled with me, but he hadn't spoken since he first welcomed me home. Ryan’s body leaned over mine and my arm was twisted up and between us. His hand was rough as it clamped over my mouth and he spoke menacingly into my ear.

  "I'm moving my hand, but if you scream it will not be pleasant." His voice was low, gravelly, and he forced his words out as if it pained him to speak each word. Perhaps he was winded?

  I shook my head, letting him know I understood what he said. When his hand finally peeled back from my face I took a large gulp of fresh air and gasped, "Please don't hurt me." Crying at the pain in my shoulder and the horror of what he might do to me, I moaned, "Please."

  He wrenched my other arm behind my back as soon as he let go of my mouth. Pulling them together, I felt his weight lighten for a moment as he leaned to the right. Curiously, I looked to where he’d reached. Laying there were several rolls of duct tape, and I immediately went into action once I heard the scratching sound of tape being unrolled.

  A ragged scream tore from my chest and I tried to forcefully buck him off of my back. He barely flinched when I tried to wriggle my way out from underneath his body, and my ears again took in the sound of more tape ripping before he yanked my head back roughly.

  "Ow," I cried, hot tears springing to my eyes. "Stop. NO."

  "I told you to keep quiet, Savannah," he snarled; placing a strip of tape on the side of my mouth. "I would close your mouth if I were you," he warned, and I screamed at him again. He slowly pressed the tape over my lips and I closed my mouth quickly. He secured another piece of tape over the first and then let go of my hair.

  Defeated for the moment, I dropped my head to the carpet and squeezed my eyes shut. I lay there and tried to take steadying breaths though my nose. Breathe. In. Out. You can do this Savannah! I thought to myself; trying to keep calm as I heard the tape unravel again and he began to tape my wrists together behind my back.

  I took a frantic moment to think. How do I get help? What do I do? I suddenly recalled slipping my phone into the side cargo pocket of my shorts when I’d gotten out of the car, and thought that maybe I would be able to get a hold of it at some point.

  "Let me help you up," Ryan sa
id politely. His weight left my body and he pulled up on my arms. Slowly I tried to stand, but unfortunately without his help I couldn't maneuver. I allowed him to help me get to my knees before falling back to sit on my feet. He didn't stop me, but instead allowed me to scoot towards the wall and then into the corner.

  "I'm sorry if I hurt you, but it was necessary since you wouldn't stay put," he spoke again politely. Too politely. His calm demeanor and seemingly normal voice sparked a true terror in me. He wasn't crazed or worried about what was happening. He seemed confident and all too aware of his surroundings.

  I mumbled curse words at him but it was like a gnat trying to hurl itself onto a Mac truck. No real damage was going to be done with my silent pleas and grunts.

  He kneeled down before me in the corner. I pulled my knees up to my chest and contemplated kicking out, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get anywhere with my hands tied behind me. At this close range, I saw that his eyes were a steely grey color; the pupils so large they almost overtook the grey. His eyes fastened on me as his hand came up to smooth the hair out of my face. I winced at his action and the vileness of his touch before pulling my legs closer to my body.

  "You are so beautiful," he spoke in a hushed tone. His fingers trailed across my cheek to a piece of hair that was stuck to the tape over my mouth. Grasping the stands, he tugged them free of the tape and gently brushed them back behind my ear.

  I shook my head furiously, knocking it painfully against the wall in the process. I blanched at the hit, which brought a smug upturn to his lips. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and his hand shot forward, grabbing my upper arm. "Up and at ‘em, now," he sang; standing and pulling me up with him. "Let’s go."

  He pulled me around the corner and into the living room and I tasted sour bile on its way up my throat. The room had been completely transformed. All of the pictures of my family, Sara, Candace and all of our other friends were missing, and the walls were now covered with my own drawings and art work. Some of the items had been stored in my room, and some of them were ones I hadn't seen in years. Jerking back abruptly, I shook my head. My eyes were wide with fear as I glared at him. I longed to scream at him "What the hell are you doing? What is this?" but all I could do was silently pray.

  "Yes Savannah, I stayed home and made the place look better while you went off on your little weekend trip."

  Sara! my head screamed. Candace was at her family reunion this weekend, but Sara should have been home. Oh God, please let her be alright.

  He'd brought two chairs into the room, along with a small table that was set up with fine dishes and candles. It looked like a romantic date for two. My stomach rolled and my legs turned to jelly as I took in the sight in silent terror.

  "Oh no you don't," he snapped, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my body into close contact with his.

  Immediately feeling his manhood pressing into my hip I jerked back, but the pressure of his arms on my back was too strong. His hands began to caress my back and move languorously over my body. One moved up between my shoulders and over to my neck, while the other one traveled down until he cupped my rear and pulled me tighter against him. Pinching my neck, he forced my head down on his shoulder and began to sway with me.

  I heard him humming under his breath and he began to dance with me. With my face pressed to his shirt I could smell the sour scent of his sweat mixed with a heavy cologne. His lower hand traveled along my bottom and across to my hip, then along the waistband of my shorts. When his sticky fingers crept under the hem of my shirt and the damp touch of his fingers connected with my skin, I went mad.

  Instinctively I knew I couldn’t let him touch me. I would not let him molest me or worse, rape me. I decided to act. Bracing myself, I lifted my knee quickly; hitting Ryan square in the inner thigh and barely missing my target. Luckily the hit was still hard enough to cause him to release me for a moment, and I kicked furiously at his shin.

  “Hmph,” he groaned, and I kicked at him again. "Damn it," he swore, letting me go as he grabbed his leg.

  Taking advantage of his preoccupation, I turned towards the front door to escape. Ryan's angry howls filled the room and he reached out and grasped the hands still secured behind my back. He dove for my body and I slammed forcefully onto the ground, my right shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.

  For a moment my vision was rimmed in black clouds and stars flashed behind my lids. Shaking them away, I kicked my legs out randomly, aiming for anything in sight. My shoe hit the leg of the table that had been set up for our macabre date, and the sound of glasses and dishes rattling and falling over filled my ears.

  "Stop it! You're ruining our date." Ryan's voice was now high pitched and whiny, and he reminded me of an impetuous eight year old throwing a temper tantrum.

  Seizing my ankle, he pulled me towards him and I twisted to stay on my side. With my left leg free, I waited until I was close enough and struck out; catching Ryan directly in the jaw. A horrifying crunch sounded and he wailed in pain; flying back and knocking over the table behind him. He sprawled limply across the floor and moaned pitifully. He wasn't out cold, but he was disabled for the moment.

  Shakily, I pulled my legs underneath me and leveraged myself up and against the couch to pull myself into a standing position. I shuffled quickly to the front door, only to find that he’d installed a new dead bolt lock that I wouldn’t be able to undo without using my hands.

  I jerked and twitched my wrists every which way, trying to free them. Although the tape loosened, they were still wrapped too tightly for me to get loose. Making a hasty decision, I ran back to my bedroom, using the wall to keep myself upright. My door was open so I quickly closed it and pressed the little button lock, even though I knew it wouldn’t hold anyone for very long.

  My phone. I needed to somehow get the phone out of my pocket without using hands. Searching the room frantically, I quickly moved to my bedside table. Praying that it would work, I leaned against the table and tried to use it to push my phone up and out of my pocket. The corner of the wood dug harshly into my thigh as I lowered myself and tried to get leverage under the phone. Fortunately my khaki shorts were pretty loose and the pockets were open. Panting as I tried to work both the pocket from my phone and my hands from their ties, I heard Ryan yell from the front room.

  "SAVANNAH!"

  Feeling the adrenaline starting to pump through my body faster and faster, my eyes flew around the room wildly, looking for anything to use to free myself - when finally it dawned on me. I kicked my foot up on my bed and pulled my pillows onto the floor before climbing onto the bed awkwardly; bracing myself for the pain as I leaned over the edge to make myself upside down. Without arms to catch myself, my head slammed into the floor and the pillows I’d kicked down.

  I jiggled my hips and miraculously felt my phone as it started to move toward the outside of my pocket. The house sounded eerily quiet considering I knew Ryan was still out there, and the knowledge forced me to work as quickly as I could to get the phone to slip out. Finally, after kicking my feet into the air several times, I was vertical enough to dislodge the phone. It fell to the floor by my head and I folded my body down to fall from the bed.

  Blinking back the tears that keep obscuring my vision, I rolled onto my knees and tried to figure out how to dial my phone. There was only one way I could think of, and that meant I needed to somehow get it into my hands. I turned with difficulty and stared over my shoulder as my arms and hands tried to reach for the phone futilely.

  An ominous thump on the wall sounded and my mind began to chant.

  Please, please help me. Let me get this. God help me, I repeated over and over.

  When my hands finally grasped the phone, I wanted to shout with joy. Thankful that my heavy dresser was located horizontally from my door, I quickly scooted to it and leaned against it; bracing my legs against the door to help hold Ryan out if he tried to break it down.

  My tingling, numb fingers fumbled with the phone while I tried to bli
ndly figure out which end was up. Getting it to the correct position, I forced myself to breathe slowly and think. I couldn’t see the phone, so I needed to go from memory. I hit the side power switch with my thumb and then slid a finger across the unlock key. Thank the Lord I didn’t have an access code on my phone, or I knew I would’ve been out of luck. The slight vibration of the phone silently let me know it was unlocked.

  "Come out, come out, wherever you are," sang Ryan maniacally. His voice was again playful and high pitched, and he tapped menacingly on the wall.

  As I sat with my shoulder blades braced on my dresser and my feet planted wide apart against the door, I saw the knob twist slowly before it jiggled back and forth. Ryan rammed into the door three times and then messed with the knob again, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he got into the room.

  Ryan forcefully slammed his body again and my legs trembled from the power - but mercifully the door didn’t budge. Another heavy hit sounded and he screamed, "Just wait until I get my hands on you!"

  Ryan was cursing and screaming on the other side of the wall and I heard him banging into things as he ran down the hall. A moment later he was back, and a solid object slammed into the wood; cracking it.

  Holding the phone awkwardly, I tried to think of how I could dial nine-one-one…and then I realized I had no idea how to make sure I was even hitting the right keys. So I did the one thing I knew I could do from memory. I hit the shortcut icon on the top left corner - the fast dial for Gage.

  As I tapped the button, Ryan yelled, "Open the door," while slamming whatever object he had into the door over and over.

  Fear that he would get in and discover the phone fueled me to drop it, and I sat up; pushing it under my dresser and being careful not to touch the screen and end the call.

  Another slam and suddenly another crack splintered across my door. Worried that I was about to be hit with the breaking debris, I scooted away as he slammed into it again and the lock gave way. Ryan kicked his way into my room, and seeing me cowering on the floor, immediately dropped the chair from the dining room and stared at me with a look of pure hatred.