Where was he?
What were his plans?
That was the terrible part. Not knowing what was going to happen. It was one thing to fixate on death and its cold finality, it was depressing and stressful, but it was another thing entirely to not know what was going on or what her abductor had in store for her.
Was he planning on torturing her?
Ashley remembered the dream she had a while back where Montgomery sliced her friend open with a nasty looking cleaver.
She closed her eyes tight and shook it off.
Not now.
It seemed as though she had been there for hours. There was no telling, but she was getting tired of sitting and thinking. Carefully, she twisted her wrists, but before she could scale a full on attack upon the rope, an intense hurt exploded and reminded her why she gave up trying to get free in the first place. Her tie points were thrashed. She didn’t even bother trying her ankles; they were in the same horrendous shape. She focused on them for a moment and honed in on a continual buzz between the rope and her skin. It was a warning that threatened if she moved them an iota, pain would set upon her and devour her alive.
What if Montgomery came waltzing in to the bathroom, cut her bonds and apologized for his temporary insanity?
What if he hurried her home?
What if she never got mauled and abducted?
Thai food.
She and Henry were going to eat Thai food. The best in town. Hot as hell. Sinfully delicious. They were going to dine and bask in the glow of her new engagement ring.
Ashley tilted her head down and raised her hands as far as she could without setting off any wrist fires.
Motherfucker!
He took the ring.
She had it on and even remembered showing Montgomery before he jumped her.
Motherfucker!
Why would he take the ring?
Because he is going to kill you stupid.
Shut the fuck up.
More tears. Ashley didn’t think she could cry anymore. Her tear ducts were raw and sore, but the little bastards flowed anyway and she rode their sorrow into thoughts of her beloved Henry.
Ashley wasn’t big on the idea of marriage. She was nobody’s property and she clung firmly to the idea of independence. When she met Henry nothing changed (or so she thought). Yes, she loved him, dearly, completely, but she was still her own person, still fiercely independent and she never wanted to find herself divorced or estranged from a raving ex-lover like her mom or dad.
There was Heather, the best friend who would never leave and then there was Henry, a lover she wouldn’t let something lame like marriage ruin.
Simple.
But then the bitch disappeared.
But then the bastard proposed. And she melted. And she wanted to blame the world, she wanted to blame being a girl and all of the expectations inculcated into her soft, forming brains, but blame did nothing to enact change or build walls of prevention. It only piled on excuses and made her second guess her impulsive answer. Did she say yes because she was conditioned to do so? Girls were supposed to dream about their wedding day, but she never did. As far back as she could remember she always saw marriage for what her parents made it – hell.
She had no idea a stupid little proposal would set her so off balance. Sweetly, no less. Not confused wavering or stomach ulcerating worry, but strident confidence and resolve. Purpose. Purpose. Purpose. She couldn’t believe how automatic her response was. Yes, yes, yes. Nor did she expect the warmth that ran through her up until Montgomery abducted her. It was strangely clear, absolute, sudden that Marriage wasn’t the enemy, but the answer. It was an opportunity for her and Henry to grow up, to give in to society a little, but to do it on their own terms, and of their own accord.
Deep inside there was more. On a subconscious level, aware, but not entirely, Ashley knew she would marry Henry eventually. She never verbalized or felt it, but it was there just the same. It was easy to identify the moment. They had been dating for about a year. Ashley knew Henry pretty well. One half of him was gruff and wild. If you looked at him wrong (well, not Ashley or his friends, but strangers) he wouldn’t hesitate to beat the snot out of you. This wasn’t a good quality and over the course of their relationship problems arose. Sometimes he was too hotheaded, but at the same time he was passionate. A fire raged within and Ashley could not deny the thrill she felt when he began to get revved up. She supposed as they got older his temper would cool.
The other side of Henry was just the opposite. One night while lying side by side in bed Ashley traced a long scar he had on his forearm. She had noticed it before, but in the whirlwind of their first year together never asked him about it. That night, wrapped in darkness and little else, her half naked body pressed against his, he told her a story that bound her to him forever (if he would have her).
When he was twelve, pre-punk rock, pre-mohawk, pre-combat boots, pre-violent temperament, he was traveling with his mom, dad, brother and dog to visit a grandma he had never met a few states over.
“It was hot as fuck, Ash, and I swear we are never going to Arizona as long as we live.”
“You don’t want to see your grandma again?”
“She’s dead now and I couldn’t see her again because I never saw her in the first place.”
“But you just said you went to visit her in hot as fuck Arizona.”
“We tried, but never made it. Anyway, we were driving along, it was the middle of the day and I can remember seeing the heat wave off the road. There wasn’t shit around, just awful desert. I think it was around the time I watched that Oliver Stone movie The Doors because I kept looking for Indians, seriously, like I was Jim Morrison, and my little brother kept pissing me off and making jokes about naked Indians and leathery balls or something. Next thing, I heard tires skidding and everything went crazy. My dad tried to avoid something in the road, I can remember all kinds of details, but I can’t figure out what he was trying to miss. The car flipped and rolled.”
“Jesus.”
“Right. We had this ugly Datsun and it was kind of small. I can’t remember any of the rolling or crashing. When I woke up my dad was trying to get me out of the car but the backseat was all crushed up. My brother got out and my mom got out and after a bit of heaving my dad got me out and we all just sort of stood there dazed. My mom started to cry and my dad hugged her staring in disbelief at the wreck that used to be our shitty little Datsun.
“My stupid brother began bawling and I didn’t know what to feel. After a few moments I realized Hooter was missing. My dog. His name was Hooter. He was missing and I started to look around and before I knew if he was alive or dead I started to cry. I loved that damn dog. If he was dead I wouldn’t know what to do so I wiped away my tears and began scanning the horizon thinking he might have run off but I didn’t see anything.
“Just then another car pulled up and the driver, some old guy, ran up and started talking to my parents and I kept looking for Hooter. Somehow, everything was real fuzzy, I probably had a concussion or something, it’s probably why I feel so retarded to this day.”
“Explains a lot.”
“Funny. So I moved for the car and there I am on my knees, everybody oblivious behind me, and I see poor, little Hooter smashed between the backseat and the passenger bucket seat.”
“Yuck.”
“I don’t mean smashed like to shit, I mean just wedged in. He was whimpering softly and I started to cry again, but I had to get him. I had to get him. At the time he was my best friend, my only friend, even then I hated most people. So I reached in and started to try and get a grip. He was a mutt, I don’t know, maybe a cross between some kind of terrier and a wiener dog or something, but he was small and he kept squirming away from me. I strained harder and got my arm in, but he was scared and he scratched at my arm over and over again. It was weird because it didn’t hurt, not then, later, but not then, like when babies get adrenaline and lift cars or some shit.”
&nbs
p; “What are you talking about?” Henry was always doing crap like that, mixing up facts and it drove Ashley absolutely crazy, but at the same time it made her smile from the inside out. It was quite endearing.
“You know, those super adrenaline babies? Lifting cars off their mom and shit.”
“It’s the mom that lifts the car off of the baby you idiot.”
“Whatever. So there I was, like a super baby, er mom, and I felt nothing, no pain, nothing, but this little sucker is savaging my arm. Before I could get him my dad must have seen my skinny butt hanging half out the car and he pulled me out. I was covered in blood and must have scared the crap out of my parents because they stared at me stunned. I took advantage of the time and dove back in for Hooter. This time I got him out.”
“No shit?” Ashley was impressed.
“No shit, but his legs were broken and his insides were crushed. They had to put him to sleep.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It really sucked. I got like twenty stitches. His little talons or claws, do dogs have claws?”
“Paws.”
“No, the sharp things.”
“Nails?”
“One of his dog nails raked me to the bone.”
“Ouch. And it was all for nothing.”
“Nothing? What?”
“He died, Henry.”
“Yeah, but I got him out. He didn’t have to die all alone in a crashed up car.”
And that was it. She was his for all eternity (if he would have her).
Simple?
Unimpressive?
Perhaps, but to Ashley this conversation rattled through her brain and exemplified everything she loved about him. There was more, lots of little stories and nuances that put his heart on display, but this was the first one that really touched her. It was the first bit of substantial character to come shining through and declare that Henry was right for her. At her core there was no way she wanted to be without him and if he proposed marriage any day from that day on she would have immediately said yes. Immediately. Like she did yesterday. And the tears began to run again, her dried out ducts screaming. She should be with him right now celebrating their life together. All she wanted, more than anything, was to close her eyes tightly, mumble a prayer of benediction and open them to find herself on their ratty little couch, curled up beside him watching whatever shitty movie he wanted her to watch.
Fully aware that prayers were for idiots, Ashley closed her eyes anyway. To no one and everyone, to nothing and everything, she whispered, “As fate would have it let me be. Please, please let me be. Return me and I will believe in life forever. Return me and I will never doubt or take what I have for granted. Please.”
She counted to three as slowly as she could and then opened her eyes.
The derelict bathroom glared back.
“Please,” she pleaded, “Please. I can’t leave Henry. He needs me. He needs me for strength. I got him hooked; I have to finish getting him clean. Take me then. Take me then, but please give me the chance to get him free.”
More tears.
If she didn’t come home, if she died here, she knew Henry wouldn’t last long. He would screw something up and he didn’t deserve it.
Just then the bathroom door knob turned slowly and the door crept open yet again.
Ashley wanted to wipe the tears from her face. She had to gather her strength and somehow talk her way out of this.
Like earlier Montgomery just stood there. He appeared off and Ashley felt her stomach somersault a few times.
How was she going to reason with a crazy person?
His demeanor wasn’t threatening in the least and it even appeared like he was waiting for her to speak up, but again, something was definitely off and she was getting an extremely uneasy vibe.
She had to be careful here, her words were all she had.
As kindly as she could muster she addressed him, “Montgomery, look at me.”
He continued to stand with his back against the bathroom door. His eyes seemed to shift in and out. One moment they stared at the ceiling, the next the floor, then at Ashley, then his eyelids closed for a second or two and the process began anew.
“Montgomery?” She tried again. It was getting near impossible to maintain her composure. Every fiber of Ashley’s being wanted to break down and begin sobbing. She was terrified and vulnerable, but she had to keep up appearances. It was important to show Montgomery that she was capable of empathizing with him, that she understood his plight in some way.
“I know what you must be going through, but you have to help me.”
No response. Instead he took a tentative step forward and then after a second or so of wavering, another backward. The entire time he seemed off kilter and his eyes kept jumping, refusing to stay still and find focus.
Ashley talked on. She tried to drain the fear from her voice and project an aura of confidence, “This isn’t right, Montgomery. You have to let me go, you know you have to. I can see it in your eyes.” Her nakedness and throbbing cheek made it tough to command anything resembling respect, but Montgomery appeared to be listening. He dropped his head and stared at his feet in what could only be shame.
Ashley capitalized upon this possible weakness and continued working the control angle. She’d push a little more, careful not to allow his burgeoning guilt to turn to dangerous agitation. “Look, you screwed up. No big deal, we all make mistakes, but now’s the time to let it go, Montgomery. Just untie me and let me go and that will be that.”
He glanced up and for the first time allowed her stare to meet his. His eyes looked red, as if he had been crying, and they looked sorry, remorseful.
“Just let me go, man, and that will be that.” Her voice quavered, the manufactured confidence slipping a bit as tears tried to take over. Ashley fought them tooth and nail and struggled with keeping her mouth and eyes even, unemotional, in control.
After a long, uncomfortable moment of staring, Montgomery finally spoke up. “What will be what?”
The question came low, almost inaudible and it threw Ashley for a second. Panic mounted while her brain rallied to make sense of his query. ‘What will be what?’ She drew a blank. Answering correctly could mean the difference between life and death, but she had no idea what the hell he was talking about. She furrowed her brow and desperately tried to retrace their last few moments. All she could really remember was a long stretch of silence. Before that she rambled on a bit, but couldn’t remember exactly what she was saying. She…
On the verge of flipping out, bright as the everlasting sun, the solution came.
Duh, he was responding to her statement. ‘What will be what?’ ‘That will be that.’
Scrambling, but trying to keep cool Ashley answered him. “No cops. No trouble. That will be that. You messed up, but just let me go and we will pretend this never happened.”
More silent staring.
Twenty seconds of stillness passed and then she spoke up again, “Okay?”
“You’ll never stop following me.” The look in Montgomery’s eyes was weird, like he was staring through her and the tone of his voice was cold, detached. Ashley’s stomach turned and worry permeated.
“I won’t. Like I said, you let me go and you will never hear from me or see me ever again. I swear it.” The tears were mounting yet another attack. A few managed to leak through.
Montgomery dropped his eyes and returned to staring at his shoes. His voice creaked out in a near whisper, “I never meant to hurt anybody. Never. But you can’t let it go. And it’s too late to just go back and pretend.” He let out a gigantic sigh, rubbed his face vigorously with his hands and then went back to staring at the floor.
Ashley was about to respond, to assure him that everything was going to be all right, to talk and talk and plead and do anything to prevent the amassing tears from winning, but before she could find the words he began again.
“What happened? Where did I go wrong? It’s all so stupid. Surrounded by idiot
s.” Montgomery’s speech patterns hit patches of odd inflection and his eyes remained locked, staring at the ground or nothing or into an invisible abyss that only he could visualize; it seemed as if he was cracking up. Madness formed words that made no sense. “There was Michel and Rene. Not you. Them. But everybody is crazy. Everybody. Trapped. Dreaming of meat but I have to quit. But Liz…”
As he trailed off Ashley couldn’t fight the tears any longer. She wanted to remain strong, but Montgomery’s perplexing ramblings sent her over the edge. Sobs racked her systems and made every little thing that hurt, hurt all the more. The cry was brutal and unforgiving. It possessed her from the inside out and temporarily displaced all attempts at thought. Ashley found herself transported by sorrow and for a solid thirty seconds everything around her ceased to exist. Her soul, her core, her essence floated amidst a storm cloud of distress, raw, tortured, lost.
Upon her return, sobs diminishing, physicality reestablishing, Montgomery still speaking in riddles, it was Ashley that felt like she was going crazy. She thrashed against her bonds, her body a live wire of kinetic force, and moaned in agony over raw skin and unforgiving restraints.
This display seemed to snap Montgomery out of his mumbling daze. He held up his hands indicating for her to settle and his eyes, up until this point distant and vacant, gave her an empathetic look. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry about all of this. Please stop. Your wrists, they’re bleeding.”
His voice was much softer and sweeter and concerned, but Ashley was beyond reasoning. “Just let me go,” she whimpered, “Untie me, Montgomery!” Tears blurred her vision and snot choked her into a brief coughing fit.
He continued to stare, his eyes finally appearing to actually see her. It looked like he wanted to say something. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times and he even shuffled a little as if he was going to abandon his position against the door, but nothing.
Ashley screamed through her weeping, “What do you want? What do you want from me?”
As Fate Would Have It Page 21
