Like Glass We Break (Glass #2)

by Kari Fisher

  She finds herself still staring at the exit Scott just left through. She looks over and makes eye contact with Amrita, who smiles warmly.

  “I’m just going on break,” Amrita explains. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good,” Renae replies, and returns to reading her book.

  ***

  Amrita

  Amrita stands outside the airport, having a smoke. She inhales slowly, feeling the smoke enter her lungs. It makes it a bit harder to breathe, but she becomes familiarly lightheaded as the nicotine high hits. She feels relaxed, which she appreciates considering it’s been one heck of a day, with all of the flights delayed and passengers becoming irate with her. She finishes her last drag and drops the butt onto the ground, snuffing it out with her foot.

  “Hey,” Scott calls out behind her. She turns to face him.

  “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be out here.”

  “Wrong turn on my way out. How do I get out to where the car rentals are?” he asks.

  “Head back in those doors, and speak with the people at the rental desk,” Amrita explains, extending her arm to point.

  “Show me.”

  “Oh, it’s easy. Just go right in there,” she repeats, pointing. “The rental desk is to your left, and then out through security to where their parking lot is.

  “I’ve already signed up for a rental and just need to find my car. It’s a dark blue Honda Accord,” he explains. “Show me.”

  “I can’t, sir. I’m on my break. If you just step inside those doors, there will be someone in there who can help you,” Amrita says, this time sternly.

  Scott marches toward her. She puts both hands up and backs away but he corners her against the wall. He grabs onto her throat and squeezes so hard she begins to choke. As she does, she slides down against the wall, flailing her arms. He crouches down in front of her and reaches into her pocket.

  “Show me, Amrita Daou, who lives at 494 Stonegate with her toddler,” he whispers, flipping through her wallet. He holds out a picture of her child and she closes her eyes. “If you don’t show me how to get to my rental car, your house will be my first stop once I do find it.”

  “Okay, okay,” Amrita squeaks. “I’ll show you.”

  As though everything is normal, both Amrita and Scott walk back into the airport. Renae sees them walk in and jumps up from her seat.

  “Scott, what are you doing?” Renae asks.

  “Amrita is just walking me to a manager’s office so we can have my flight reimbursed. I’ve decided to rent a car and drive home.”

  Renae looks over to Amrita, who nods in agreement.

  “Right this way, sir,” Amrita ushers.

  Renae doesn’t say anything else; she just returns to her book once again.

  Scott follows Amrita and she walks out to the rental lot. In the closest spot sits the dark blue Honda Accord that now belongs to Scott for the next two days, according to his paperwork.

  “There it is,” Amrita says quietly. “Can I go now?”

  “Did you really think it was going to be that easy? Get in the car,” Scott demands.

  “No, I—”

  “Get in, now. I just really want some company through the city. Once we get to the outskirts, I’ll drop you off. Otherwise, you can stay here, and I’ll head over to your place. Or I won’t, I don’t know. If I don’t go right away, I’ll make sure to stop by at some point, when you don’t expect it. You may not even be home. I may break the window on your door and let myself in, just so I can feel what it’s like to fall asleep in your bed. Then when you show up, we can share a bottle of wine. Do you like wine? It’s not like you’re going to move, Amrita. This is a decent job, but you’re obviously single—there’s no ring on your finger, or picture of you and a boyfriend in your wallet. Are you single? If you move, I’ll find you there. You’ll have to quit your job. Pull your child out of the pre-school closest to your house. Make sure your family hides too. There can’t be too many Daous in the phone book, even though this is a fairly big city. I have plenty of time on my hands. I can visit everyone.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Amrita asks.

  “You don’t even have the money to move right now, do you? Apartment hunting would be awful this time of year. Scott isn’t even my real name, and my ID is fake, so don’t bother calling the cops.”

  “So what do you want? You want me to go for a ride with you? How will that make you happy?” she asks, shaking. She’s scared and the cold weather isn’t helping because she hadn’t grabbed her jacket.

  “I just want the company. I’ve been really lonely lately. My wife died, and I just need someone to talk to. I didn’t mean to be forceful,” Scott admits, changing his tone of voice. For a second, he sounds like a soft, caring man.

  “Well, this isn’t the way to deal with that loneliness,” Amrita insists.

  “Get in the car.”

  Feeling defeated, Amrita complies with his command. She walks to the passenger side of the car and gets into the vehicle. Wishing she had grabbed her cell phone, she realizes she can’t even send a text to anyone for help. They pull out of the parking lot and tears stream down Amrita’s dark cheeks.

  “Where are you from?” Amrita asks, trying to make conversation, and learn about Scott’s real identity at the same time.

  “Everywhere,” Scott replies.

  “Where do you live now?” she asks, prying.

  “You ask too many questions. I don’t live at 494 Stonegate, but I know how to get there. You take Highway Sixteen South, exit onto O'Neill, turn onto Donnell—I’ve done my research. I also don’t have a toddler I need to protect. I have no children, no spouse, and no reason to live.”

  “Your late wife wouldn’t want you driving around with random women,” Amrita points out.

  “I don’t have a late wife.”

  Amrita is quiet for a few minutes. She hopes that if she just remains calm and humors him for the remainder of the ride to the city limits, he’ll let her out, unharmed. She hopes that he leaves her where someone will be able to find her, or within walking distance of a busy street. It’s starting to get dark out and she’s going to freeze without her jacket, wearing only her air stewardess uniform. These nylons won’t keep her legs warm at all.

  “Why aren’t you talking?”

  “How much further?” Amrita asks, ignoring his question.

  “Not much longer.”

  They continue on and see a sign that tells them they’re leaving the city. It’s 89 miles to the next city. The car accelerates.

  “Are you dropping me off here?” Amrita asks. “This is the outskirt of the city, like you said. I did everything you wanted.”

  “Stop talking.”

  “Let me out of the car,” she pleads.

  “I said stop talking.”

  “I really need to get home,” Amrita explains. “Please pull over.”

  “No.”

  Amrita unbuckles her seat belt and reaches over to take hold of the steering wheel. She jerks it to the right and the car swerves as he fights her for control. He slams on the brakes and pulls over on the side of the road. Visibly angry, he throws the door open and marches around to Amrita’s side of the car. He rips her door open and stares at her.

  “Stand up,” he screams.

  Frightened, she does as he says. She emerges from the car and he pushes her against it. Her stomach and chest hit the side of the vehicle with a thud and the wind is knocked out of her. Behind her, Scott pulls a rope out of his pocket and ties it around her wrists. Then he yanks hard, pulling her closer to the inside of the car door, and secures her wrists tightly to the door handle. He pushes her down onto the passenger seat and she hits her head on the door frame. She is leaning out of the vehicle, wrists still attached to the door, but she’s pushed back in when he slams the door on her. She is slouched and uncomfortable, leaning to the right in her seat.

  “I thought you were letting me go,” she whisper
s.

  “Did I not ask you to stop talking, you stupid bitch?” he asks.

  Again, silence as they drive. The sun is setting and Scott turns the radio up. Music is playing but Amrita isn’t listening. She’s focused on getting home, to her child, who had no one to pick her up from pre-school today. She wonders if one of the teachers stayed with her, or if Children’s Services has been contacted. She wonders if her daughter is scared. Amrita is scared.

  The road is unoccupied by other vehicles. It seems everyone else is probably having supper with their family right now, and not traveling out of state. Besides, no one in their right mind should be traveling in this terrible weather. The roads are slippery and unsalted. It had warmed up a bit during the day, turning the snow into slush, but everything is frozen now into a clear sheet of ice. It is incredibly slippery—Amrita knows that from the stopping distance needed when Scott had slammed on the brakes earlier.

  Amrita secretly wished for a collision. Perhaps they’d hit another vehicle head on, but most of the impact would be taken by the driver’s side, rendering Scott unconscious. Amrita would be undoubtedly hurt too, but maybe she’d be just conscious enough to loosen the rope and free herself from this vehicle. Then, she could run out onto the highway and wave her arms until a car slows to a stop, willing to assist her. She’d let them know what happened, and they’d call the police. The police would take Scott into custody for kidnapping her, and she’d be reunited again with her child. They’d move. They’d have no choice. She’s not sure how she’d come up with the money to, but they’d get far away—maybe to Oklahoma, since she has family there. Surely, her family would help, once she explains the situation. They’d want her to get out of this city too. Or, even better—Scott would remain in a coma for months and then when he’d finally wake up, his short term memory will have been destroyed.

  Or maybe they’d get safely to wherever it is Scott wants to bring her, and he’ll do god knows what with her. Maybe he’ll leave her mangled body in a ditch and no one would find her buried in the snow all winter. She’d remain listed as a missing person until the spring thaw, when someone pulls over to change their tire and notices a human skeleton off the side of the road.

  “Talk to me, Cora,” Scott says softly.

  “Who is Cora?”

  “Don’t be silly, Cor. Just talk. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. Wait until you see what I’ve done to your place—or our place, I guess I should say. I reorganized and decorated while you were away, and you’ll be pleased, I’m sure.”

  Play along, Amrita. This is your only way out. “Did you paint?” Amrita asks, sounding interested.

  “I repainted the entrance. After our fight, there was so much blood—and those guys cleaned it up but I could still see it everywhere. I could see it when I went to sleep at night. I could see it at work during the day. So I painted. It’s a calming pastel blue, now. The entire entrance. It’s such a pleasant surprise when you walk in, and I just ruined it for you—I wish I hadn’t told you about it. I wish I’d just shown you.” Scott looks like he’s about to cry.

  “I’m sure I’ll love it,” Amrita squeaks. This guy is fucked.

  “I know you will. I also bought us a new comforter for the bed. Your last one was nice but I figured we needed a change, and we needed to make our bedroom a little bit more us, you know?”

  “Sure. That’s really nice of you,” Amrita says gently, carefully choosing each one of her words so she doesn’t offend him. She glances downwards at the bulge in his jeans. She leans to her left and presses her rib cage against the middle console.

  “What are you doing?” Scott asks with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Oh, you know. Just thanking you for coming to pick me up in Philly, baby. You’re the best boyfriend a girl could ask for,” she says seductively.

  “Oh, you’re welcome, Cor. I told you—as long as you’re faithful, I will always do anything for you.” He slides his hand over onto her knee and gives it a little squeeze. She forces a smile. They watch the road quietly for a few minutes, and then Amrita squirms, bending down to the left side, on the console.

  He looks down at her face, curious about these moves. Amrita gives him another generous smile and then tugs at his pant zipper with her teeth.

  “Oh,” Scott gasps. He’s shocked, but intrigued at the same time. Another tug. He holds his breath, waiting. Amrita sits back up straight in her seat. He glances at her briefly, eyes still on the road for the most part, confused.

  “Sorry, baby. It’d be easier if I had my hands,” Amrita laughs, nervously.

  “Well, we could fix that.” Scott chuckles cockily. The car glides to the side of the road and slowly comes to a complete stop. This time, Scott stays in the vehicle. He unbuckles his seat belt and pulls a pocket knife out of his suitcase, leaning over Amrita, while she holds her breath unintentionally. He saws away at the rope and it rips apart where his knife is working at it. “There we go.”

  He buckles back up and the car is moving again. Amrita takes a good look out of the window, watching the trees go by, and then she casually buckles her seat belt.

  “What are you doing?” Scott asks.

  Without a word, she unzips his pants, exposing his tweed boxers. Turning her head slightly to the side, she kisses down his chest, ribs sore against the armrest. She continues down to his stomach, around his belly button, then down. As she arrives at his pants, she begins to bite gently on his boxers. His eyes close for a second. They open. They are still the only car on the road. Amrita ventures further down. Another bite. She pulls away at the opening of his boxers, releasing him. Just as she is about to put him in her mouth, she screams and twists the steering wheel to the right. They fly off the road into the ditch. The car rolls twice, then three times. Inside, glass shatters and Amrita is forced to close her eyes, bringing her hands up in front of her face. She is not aware of what Scott is doing. The car rolls again, and then comes to a shattering halt. The radio is no longer playing music. The car has landed on its side against a telephone pole. The car alarm is blaring. Amrita looks downwards at Scott. He isn’t moving. She reaches down and unbuckles her belt. She squirms so that she’s facing the door above her. Carefully, she pushes her foot onto Scott’s head, and uses it as leverage to push open the heavy door, and pull herself out of the vehicle. She climbs down and takes eight steps away from the car. Then she drops to her knees. It’s dark and she’s sore, but she’s not sure if she’s actually hurt or not. Her ribs are tender and her breaths are short. She needs to get out of here but it’s dark; who would actually find them here? Scott’s cell phone. She runs back to the car and kneels beside it. The front windshield is smashed in so she carefully reaches her hand in, trying not to cut it on the sharp glass that surrounds her wrist—the wrist that still has rope burns from her restraints earlier. Shaking, she pulls Scott’s cell phone from his pocket. Opening it reveals that the screen is shattered but otherwise, it works okay. She dials 9-1-1.

  “Operator, what is your emergency?” a woman asks.

  “I’ve been in an accident. Highway 27,” she explains.

  “Is anyone hurt?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Were you the driver of the vehicle, ma’am?”

  “No,” Amrita replies. Unsure of what else to say about the situation to the woman over the phone, who has no idea what’s going on, she hangs up and throws the phone onto the ground. She walks up a small hill to the road, so that the police can see her when they get there. She waits, looking back every so often to see if Scott is walking up behind her. He doesn’t. He remains mangled and bleeding at the bottom of the vehicle, tipped over on its side, until the police, paramedics, and fire rescue arrive.

  ***

  It doesn’t take the first responders long to arrive, and when they do, they find Amrita sitting on the ground in the middle of the road by the scene of the accident. A police officer is the first to run out of his vehicle toward her, shining a flashlight in her face.


  “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asks.

  “I’m fine,” she replies. She’s crying, her eyes are burning, and her face is red. The officer nods, and signals a paramedic over. He proceeds to check her out for injuries, snapping a neck brace around her and laying her down on a stretcher, just in case.

  “I’m Detective Fischer, can you tell me what happened?” the officer asks. He holds a notepad out in front of him, with a pen in his other hand. The lights from the ambulance are shining right in Amrita’s face, almost too brightly.

  “I don’t know who this guy is. He kidnapped me,” Amrita whispers.

  “Are you talking about the man that was in the vehicle with you at the time of the accident?” Detective Fischer asks.

  “Yes, sir,” Amrita replies. “He was at the airport. He was sitting in the waiting area with another woman. Their flight was delayed. He got up and left through another exit, and I went out the door to my ramp. I stood outside and had a smoke. He must have come around the building. Regular people are not allowed out there but no one must have seen him. He came up behind me and asked me where the rental lot was, and asked if I’d show him. I was creeped out so I said no, but he grabbed my wallet—saw that I had a little girl, and told me he’d come visit us if I didn’t do what he wanted. So I did—I walked him to the parking lot. I asked if that was all and he made me get in. He tied my wrists to the door of the car and I couldn’t move. I convinced him to loosen them. He kept calling me Cora—it was really strange. I just wanted to get away so I grabbed the steering wheel while he was distracted. We crashed and he never woke up.”

  “I’m really glad you’re okay, ma’am. That’s all for now. If we have any more questions, we’ll speak with you once you’re at the hospital,” the officer explains, nodding.

  Amrita is wheeled into the back of the ambulance then the ambulance disappears into the night.