The Impostor, A Love Story

by Tiffany Carmouche

  But Steve was in prison. Could he have made bail?

  Terrified by the deserted street, I panicked because I had to slow down. The truck approached faster, not paying attention to the speed signs.

  I swerved onto the ramp to get back onto the interstate in the opposite direction.

  “Please, please, don’t let him turn. Please Lord, don’t let him turn,” I prayed. From the rearview mirror, I watched the headlights jolt as he skidded back onto the highway behind me.

  It was him, it had to be him. I couldn’t hold still. I was shaking—not because I was cold any more, but petrified. Panting, I accelerated.

  “Shit.” I looked through my rearview mirror. The headlights were much bigger.

  “Please, let him pass. Please, let him pass,” I begged out loud. I jammed my foot on the pedal even harder. The truck emerged closer and larger.

  Approaching. Looming. Hovering. Without warning, my car jolted. He smashed against the rear of my car.

  “Shit, what the hell!”

  Recklessly he hammered into the back of my car again. My hands ricocheted off the wheel of the car, swerving out of control for a moment. I grabbed the steering wheel firmly and regained authority, manipulating it back into a lane. My heart thumped loudly in my chest.

  “I’m going to die. I should have waited for Brad.” I hyperventilated with tears rolling down my face.

  “Dear God, don’t let me die,” I begged. “Don’t let me die.”

  The truck collided against the back of my car, jerking the steering wheel out of my grasp again. The bank to my right was a steep drop down the mountain. I turned the steering wheel with everything I had, trying to jolt the car back onto the highway. My neck was throbbing with pain.

  “I’m going to die,” I gasped.

  Ramming my car in every direction, the truck tossed my automobile around the highway like a rag doll. My arms were growing weak constantly readjusting the steering, trying to remain on the road.

  He hammered the car again, forcing the vehicle toward the edge of the cliff. Yanking the steering wheel to the left, my car spun out of control on the highway. Spinning vulnerably from the impact, my car stalled. I was in the middle of the highway facing the wrong direction.

  Throwing open the door to the truck, Steve grabbed an ax. Furious, he charged my motionless vehicle.

  I couldn’t give up. Anxious, I scrambled to restart the car. I struggled to turn on the ignition, but nothing happened. He approached the vehicle. The ax in his hands rose.

  “Start. You have to start.” I pumped the gas, but the car remained stationary. “Start, damn it, start.” The ax smashed through the back window. Shattered glass stung me from behind. “Please, start,” I begged, tears staining my skin.

  The engine roared and the car bolted, knocking him off balance. I raced recklessly in the wrong direction on the highway. I need to survive. Grazing the side of his truck, I cruised past it. I’m going to survive. I am going to escape.

  In my rearview mirror, I could see him hasten back to the truck. Faster, he raced toward me. The headlights’ glare closed in on me as he gained speed and bouldered against the rear of the car. The truck thrust me toward the drop off the side of the highway.

  The impact stabbed my body. My back . . . the pain . . .

  I needed to survive. I pictured my little angel’s blue eyes. I have to survive. I have to survive for her. I couldn’t leave her orphaned. My arms were getting weak from wrestling with the steering wheel and my body was sore as my little car was battered on the road.

  Suddenly, the truck slammed me again. My senses could feel every second of the jolt as I flew off the highway. Crashing down the steep embankment, I tumbled over and over. The car plummeted down the mountain.

  My body smashed against the steering wheel, bruising my ribs, breaking bones as the car fell. Blood. Pain. Hopelessness.

  Where am I? I awoke crushed in the car. Blurry. I could only see shadows. Dizzy. I held the dashboard, hoping it would steady my world. A figure accelerated through the woods toward me.

  Excruciating pain shot through my body. I gave up. I wanted it to end. I wanted to die. I lay there still, weak, battered.

  No, I have to break free. I have to somehow escape the confines of this metal prison. The door jammed. My seatbelt tangled, restricting my movement. Panting like a trapped animal, I pushed and pushed. The pain pulsated through my body.

  I have to survive for my angel. I have to survive for my daughter. I can do this. Her big blue eyes gave me strength. The adrenaline spread throughout my body, concealing the pain for a moment.

  My mom can do anything. Jess had more faith in me than I had in myself.

  Grabbing Brad’s knife from my purse, I cut the seatbelt free. I discovered the broken window in the back seat. Pushing the broken glass out of the way, I slithered out of the opening. Every limb hurt. I wanted to collapse. Almost ready to give up, Jessica’s voice interrupted me.

  “Mommy, sometimes do people have secrets?”

  The hair on my body curled as I remembered the footsteps creaking down the stairs at midnight. He was going to hurt my angel. This monster was going to hurt my angel.

  Steve came closer and closer down the mountain. The dagger in his hands reflected the moonlight to reveal his position.

  I can do this. I can survive. I scanned the woods, finding a spot in the darkness concealed by brush. I staggered towards it, my broken bones stabbing me as I made my way. I waited silently in the cold. From the gaps in the brush, I watched him make his way closer to the car. Be silent, Nicole. Be silent.

  “You stupid bitch!” He inspected the car, expecting me to be there. “Where are you, you stupid whore?” I stayed motionless. The dagger glistened in the moonlight. The ax was hanging out of a pack on his back. It was so cold, my body so weak.

  If I could stay here in this little bush for long enough, perhaps he would give up the quest before I froze to death. I wanted to kill him. I held tight to the knife, but I knew I didn’t have the strength. My only hope of survival was to not be detected.

  “Where are you, Nicole? You think you are so smart, don’t you? You think you are smarter than me, do you? I’ll find you, you little whore. I will find you and slice you up just like Alan.” He was footsteps away from my burrow.

  “It could have been different. It could have been different for us. But you’re a whore. You and your Dylan laughing in my house. That is when I knew. That is when I knew you were a little whore just like the others, and I had to get rid of you. I had to give you what you deserved. I’m going to give it to you, Nicole—just like you want it, you nasty girl. Come on, little bitch. I’ll show you, you don’t laugh at me.”

  The intense pain of my body was almost too much to bear. I couldn’t let my breath give me away. My body trembled. Before I knew it, as if in a frenzy, he threw back the branches of the bush and grabbed my feet, dragging me out of my refuge.

  The icy ground tore my clothing as he dragged me over it. I began kicking hysterically to try and break away from his grasp. He let go of my feet, grabbed the knife from my hand and slashed my arm as I tried to protect myself.

  I staggered up. Frantic, I ran through the woods, branches whipping my face. The snow slowed my injured stride even more; however, I pressed forward, dodging trees and hurdling stumps in my way.

  He was faster than I was, and soon overtook me. Knocking me down with a tree branch, he battered my body even more. I have to get up. I have to run. Staggering up, I attempted another escape. He smashed me down with the limb. I fell to the ground, defeated. Daggers seemed to stab me as the cold and my broken collar bone pierced my body.

  I wuv you, Mommy. I don’t want you to go! I heard my Angel’s voice. I could not give up.

  “You little whore, thought you could escape me?” Steve glared at me. Lying next to my body was a large stone. My body could barely move, but I had to run. I had to get away.

  My limp arm reached for the rock. It was so heavy.
I can do this. I lifted it in my hand and waited. He came closer, leaning over my body. With all of my strength, I smashed the small bolder against the side of his head. He fell. I scrambled to my feet somehow, running hysterically through the woods again.

  “You little slut. You are going to die now.” He caught me again. He grabbed my body and threw me against a tree. I grasped a limb I had found on the ground. I smashed it against him, but he grabbed it, overpowering me, and drove it into my ribs. Bashing my face with his fist, I finally fell, broken. Too weak to move, I panted—every ounce of me defeated.

  In horror, I lay there as he used the knife to slice open my coat. He tore open my shirt, his sinister eyes pleased as I lay there vulnerable. The blade traced my body, I screeched, the surface cuts to my skin excited him—his foreplay. My body felt conquered, disgusted by his touch. He then proceeded to slice open my bra, letting my useless clothes fall away from my body. His excitement grew.

  The cold snow bit my skin. Throbbing pain pulsed through my body. I lay there as he cut my jeans off me, tracing my legs with the blade. As the blood slowly left my body, I grew weaker and weaker—my limbs broken, my body crippled, my mind defeated.

  “I know you like it, Nicole. I know it’s really me you wanted.” The blood from my naked body stained the virgin snow. “You little whore; you are now my little whore.” He started fumbling with his pants.

  God, let me die. Let me die. Let me die before he takes me. I would rather die than have him enter me. Please let me die. I was too weak to fight back, too weak to run, too weak to move. I couldn’t let his vulgar body touch mine. There had to be something I could do.

  The knife . . . I can take my own life. The knife had been placed on the ground as he unzipped his pants. I was so weak. I tried to muster up enough strength to grab it. When he noticed what I was reaching for, he slapped my face, smashing it against the cold damp snow. He put the dagger back in his coat.

  “You bitch.” He exposed his vulgar body and began to push himself on top of me. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move.

  Out of the darkness, a figure appeared. It was an angel—an angel in the moonlight. He grabbed Steve before Steve could penetrate, lifted him, and threw him to the ground.

  Steve arose furious, pulled up his pants, and grabbed a branch. He charged my guardian angel. The figure fought back. He smashed Steve to the ground again and grabbed a tree branch and thrust it against Steve hard enough to shatter his bones. Somehow, Steve made it back to his feet.

  The moonlight captured the face of my angel. It was Bradley. Was this another dream? It was much too painful to be a dream. My hands touched my body. I brought them to my face, quivering, covered in blood.

  Steve grabbed the ax from his bag and slashed at Bradley’s body, drawing blood. The branch in Bradley’s hand did little to protect him as the monster dismantled the tree limb. Brad was losing; he was going to die. My body was broken. Blood drenched the snow beneath me, but I had to distract Steve. I had to somehow distract Steve so that Bradley could run.

  I anchored myself on a tree, pulling my lifeless body to my feet. Agonizing. Burning. Pain.

  Brad was rolling on the ground as Steve frantically thrashed at his body with the ax. Wobbling, I almost fell but held myself up with what little strength I had.

  The ax continued to crash down and Bradley managed to escape the blade’s edge until he got trapped next to a fallen tree. There was nowhere to roll, nowhere to escape. Bradley was going to die, and this monster would soon come back to rape me, leaving our mutilated bodies next to each other in the snow.

  I screamed. Only a whisper left my lips. I tried to scream again, just a soft murmur escaped. As Steve lifted the ax to decapitate Bradley, I finally shrieked, startling him.

  As Steve turned to me, Bradley was able to jump up and try to grab the ax. The struggle was violent as they wrestled over the weapon. Steve realized he wasn’t going to win. He broke free of the struggle and turned toward me.

  He couldn’t bear to see me standing there alive. I had survived. I had survived, and although I could not move or take a step, I was standing. He stuck his hand in his coat and again pulled out the dagger. As if in slow motion, he threw the knife towards my body—too weak to move—too weak to dodge its destruction.

  I could see the glimmer of the blade as it sliced through the air aimed at my heart. As the knife hit my chest, I could hear Bradley’s scream echo through the mountainside as Steve ran off into the woods.

  The pain so sharp, so excruciating, I screamed. I could hear sirens. I could hear the dogs. I could see the flashlights. My body convulsed as if in slow motion, falling back to the snow.

  Brad ran over to my lifeless body, bawling. He had survived. He was alive. My bloodstained hands were stained with my own blood and not his. He was alive, yet I could feel death come upon me.

  Unbearable pain overwhelmed me. I had tried, but I couldn’t hold on. The Throbbing. The Aching. Every limb fatigued with pain. As the blood left my body, I grew powerless. I tried to tell him. I tried to tell him, but the life left my body before I could. The pounding in my heart—silent. I couldn’t even say goodbye. A sadness overwhelmed me as I took my last breath.

  * * *

  She lay there, motionless—her naked body framed by the scarlet snow. He held her limp body and screamed as if his voice would return her to him. He ran his hands over the hair that cascaded down her battered face. The moonlight illuminated the white snow that had been tainted by her blood—almost creating a glow around her. Bradley caressed her assaulted face, almost unrecognizable.

  “I’m so sorry, Nicole. I am so sorry.” He held her close to him as his tears fell upon her. He heard the sirens; he heard the dogs; he had to bring her to safety. They had to save her. There was no heartbeat; there was no breath. No life remained—her essence defeated. As he picked her naked body up from the snow, her blood stained him. He left the blade in her heart—afraid that if he released it, her blood would cascade through the open wound. He carried her toward the light.

  * * *

  I felt weightless. The throbbing pain and the frigid cold were replaced by peace. I arose, elevated as if an angel, high among the trees. I could see my body lying below with Bradley weeping over my corpse. The moonlight illuminated the two of us. I could see the purity of the white glistening snow and the scarlet blood that surrounded me. In slow motion, I witnessed Bradley’s tears as if crystals catching the reflections of light as they fell, gently kissing my naked skin. He took off his coat. He lifted me in it, cocooned in his warmth.

  The flashlights soon found our little sanctuary in the moonlight as Bradley carried me to safety. He didn’t realize I was dead. I was already safe. I was free of pain.

  “You have to save her. You have to,” he begged the paramedic.

  “She has lost so much blood. I don’t know if she will survive.”

  “You have to. YOU HAVE TO!” He grew hysterical.

  “You can’t come in this ambulance.”

  “I won’t leave her. I can’t leave her.”

  There was no pulse. They pulled out the defibrillator. “Ready?” They nodded. “Go.” They tried to restart my heart.

  Didn’t they know I was already gone?

  “You can’t let her die. You can’t let her die!” he pleaded, the tears pouring down his cheeks.

  “Sir, you need to come with us.” They tried to get him to lie on the gurney, but he fought them off, running back over to me.

  “Promise me, promise me you will save her,” he pleaded, tears flowing unheeded down his face.

  “We’re doing everything we can.”

  “Please, I’m begging you. I am begging you.”

  “I can’t let you in this ambulance.”

  “She has a daughter,” he cried, “a little girl who needs her. You can’t let her die.”

  My little girl. My angel. I could see her innocent blue eyes looking up at me.

  “Mommy, don’t go.” The line traveled
in a chaotic rhythm across the machine, showing I had no heartbeat, proving I had died. They pulled out the paddles again, shocking my heart.

  “Don’t go, Mommy. Mommy, don’t go.”

  Again, they pressed the paddles onto my chest.

  “Mommy, please don’t leave me. Mommy, you can’t leave me.”

  An overwhelming sorrow entered my body. I could hear my little angel. She looked at me with hopeful eyes and her little pouty lip. I had left her orphaned. I needed to be strong. I needed to survive. I couldn’t let her down. They pressed the electronic shock against my chest once more.

  The utter sense of peace I was feeling as a spectator was quickly stripped away. A pulsating pain entered my mind and shot through my body. The horizontal line began to pulsate.

  “She is alive. She is alive.” Then everything went black.

  Sneak Peek

  Bradley

  Nicole’s lifeless body lay on the hospital bed.

  “She may never recover,” the doctor began. “She’s lost a great deal of blood, and we don’t know how long her heart was stopped. She may not come out of this state.”

  “There has got to be hope. She has to survive,” Brad replied.

  “If she does, she may not be the person you remember. Right now, the only thing keeping her alive is life support.” The doctor stared at the machine connected to her body. “As her fiancé, you need to begin to think of the options. As an organ donor, she could potentially help people who have a chance to survive.”

  “I am not taking her off life support.” Brad sounded extremely upset at the suggestion.

  “She would go peacefully. Who knows if she is in any pain right now?” the doctor continued.

  “I will not kill her. She is going to survive.”

  The doctor left the room. The nurse, Vera, stayed for a few extra minutes, walking over to Bradley. “Do you pray, my son?” She put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Excuse me?”