Maybe they gave up on the idea that I was being kept along the water. Maybe they thought I’d been moved to another location, since Asshole hadn’t been back to his favored lunchtime spot. Maybe they thought that because I didn’t yell for help and latch onto the cop’s side, that I wasn’t really being kept against my will. I didn’t know what was happening with the cops, I just knew that I was still here.
And every day, the river and I would have a staring contest.
It taunted about its abilities to lead me to freedom. I shook my head, saying that I’d found my resolve and that I wanted the bastard caught. It called me a chicken, and I argued with it something fierce. I realized that this was all internal debate on my part, but imagining the river calling me a chicken hit a little too close to home.
I was being a chicken. I was scared to death that he would come and find me again. And I don’t mean while I was running, I mean after I got back home. I was afraid that even if I ran away and went home ten times, that he’d find ways to keep bringing me back. I feared that his hold on me would never release.
I also feared the whole Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing he had going on. It was almost like dealing with two different personalities, yet he seemed to have firm control over which he chose to display at any given moment. Dr. Jekyll had been in control since we moved here, and I didn’t want to do anything to ruin that. If I ran, and he came back for me, I’d surely be dealing with Mr. Hyde. And I just… I just couldn’t handle going through that again.
And so, there on the couch in the great room, on a Saturday morning in June, or maybe July, I still sat. Too scared to leave, and so scared to stay.
He came down the stairs with a smile on his face. Asshole was super content these days. “I’m going out for about a half hour. When I come back, I’ll have a surprise for you.”
I looked up from the couch, “All right.”
He paused on his way through the room, “I’m going to wipe that frown off your face, Mia.”
Fear flashed through my eyes.
He sighed, “No, that’s not what I meant. We’re moving forward, remember?”
I nodded.
“One half hour and I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
He left, and I stared at the door he’d closed behind him. He never used to leave the house on the weekends. He ran all his errands on his breaks or after work, before coming home. Once he came home on a Friday afternoon that was it, until Monday morning.
He also never let on that he ever took a sick, vacation, or personal day. I could only assume that the world had continued on without me and that holidays still occurred. But he still left the house Monday through Friday. I figured that was when he had made his plans for finding a new job, buying a new house, picking out the furnishings, and such. Since moving here, I’d seen a few days where he’d come home with a larger than usual order of groceries, or a piece of technology, or some sort of supplies he felt we needed, and yet he wasn’t much later in coming home.
A half hour later, my attention was caught by a boat that was approaching the dock. I held my breath as I watched it come in. I didn’t recognize the boat, and it certainly didn’t look like any kind of law enforcement. It… I found my ability to breathe again, it was Asshole. I didn’t even know he knew how to drive a boat.
So, what now? He was going to take me out on the water? Why? So I can be taunted by the sight of the trailer? So the neighbors could see us out and about as a couple? What if we passed the marina and somebody saw us? Would people begin to think I was with this guy willingly, that I actually had run away? What would he do if I was spotted by family and they began a chase? Would he shoot at them? Ugh, I think I’m going to throw up.
He tied the boat off and came jogging up the pier, around the house, and in through the front door to hit the code on the alarm panel. He was beaming with pride the whole time. He turned to me with an expectant look, “It’s just a rental, so we can see how we like it. You stare out at that water all the time. I figured it was time we go get out on it, explore around a little.”
“This definitely is a surprise. You never want to go anywhere or do anything, you like being at home.”
His gaze caught mine, “I stay home to be with you. Now that we’re more settled, we can start going out and doing things together.”
Terror. I experienced true terror every time he dropped a comment like that. A comment that made a future with him sound so… perfectly acceptable. He painted such a domestic little picture in my head. A nice house, nice things, a baby down the road, he made it all sound so simple. What’s worse is that it had gotten to the point that it would be just that easy to accept it, just that easy to latch onto all of his promises… If I’d just put that pesky little issue with having been kidnapped and held hostage to the wayside. If I’d just let that go, everything he was offering could be mine.
Of course, with high school over and family that had lived and aged without me, the life I might go back to would be vastly different than they way I had left it. In some ways, it had all seemed like a lifetime ago. -All the more reason to make it easier and just let go, and move on with Asshole.
Dealing with him had gotten to the point of being normal to me now. The more time that passed by, the further away I felt from my past, the easier it seemed to be able to stop fighting for it.
There were times when I felt like my need to get home was less a necessity and more a show of stubbornness against change. There were also times when I was so exhausted from waging the constant mental war that my only weapon, my freewill, threatened total betrayal.
I gave myself a mental headshake, now was not the time to weaken and give in to his brainwashing. Now was the time to get the hell out of this house, survey the land, and take more notes for my final escape plan. I couldn’t quit at a time when each passing day brought me closer to the moment that I was sure was coming. My chance was almost here, I could feel it.
I slapped an ecstatic smile on my face, “I’d love to get out there!”
“Here,” he said, handing me a shopping bag. “Go get ready.”
I looked into the bag and headed up the stairs. I changed into the bathing suit, flip-flops, and new sunglasses that he’d picked up at a store for me. I took a moment and slathered on a layer of the sunscreen that was in the bag. The block made me feel slimy and gross, but it was bound to be better than nursing a blistering burn for the next few days. After all, it’s not like my skin had gotten all that much sun exposure lately.
He was waiting for me when I came back down the stairs. Asshole had a small cooler filled and ready to go. He carried it as he escorted me to the front door. Then he rested the small cooler on a hip with one hand, reset the alarm panel with his other, and out we went.
“There’s a place a couple miles upriver that rents out all sorts of boats,” he explained as we walked down the pier. “It’s nothing fancy, really. Just an open bowed, eighteen-foot Stingray. But it’s ours for the day.”
I smiled at his attempt at sounding nautical. He’d probably just repeated the spiel that the rental guy had given him. “It’s perfect.”
“I had been considering replacing the car with something newer, but perhaps a boat would be a more enjoyable choice.”
I climbed aboard. I’d certainly feel better if he bought a new car, one that didn’t have the ability to hold me captive in the trunk. But… “It would be so nice to have a boat,” so I could use it to run away from you. Besides, the cops had surely seen the car in the surveillance videos from the convenience store by now. Even if they hadn’t managed to spot it yet, that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t.
“We’ll see how it goes today,” he said. He’d gotten the cooler situated, untied us, pushed off, and sat in the captain’s chair.
I just sat back and let him do all the work. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that I had completed the boater’s safety course to operate a boat. Besides, it’s not like I had my certification on me.
He put the key into the ignition, took a breath, scrunched his face, and started the engine.
I almost laughed. “What’s the matter?”
“I haven’t driven a boat in almost a dozen years. I’ll consider today a success if we don’t breakdown and I don’t crash into anything.”
“Oh, you’ll get your sea legs back in no time.”
“Your confidence in me is humbling,” he called, over the sound of the engine.
I looked away, out of habit, so I could roll my eyes. I was going to be very grateful for the sunglasses by the end of the day.
I wasn’t sure what he would deem proper behavior for today. Should I continue to sit here in the passenger seat, attentive to my surroundings? Should I relax and put my feet up? What if I got up and moved to sit on a seat up front, in the open bow? Or should I only pay attention to the boat itself, never showing an interest in the scenery?
Forget the earlier terror. I wasn’t in any danger of falling for his idealized version of our lives together. I much preferred living a life that didn’t have the ground endlessly littered with eggshells for me to navigate my way through.
“So, are we headed to any place in particular?” I asked.
“No, just getting the lay of the land today. Friends at work have been telling me about a couple places they go to, but I want to learn my way around out here before we venture too far.”
He was headed upriver. I decided that it was best if I kept a low profile and stayed seated behind the windshield. My eyes were constantly scanning the water for anyone I might know. My family didn’t typically venture this far up, because there were so many places to go to further downstream. But, you never know.
We passed by the boat rental place. Their massive network of piers was three rows deep. You could rent all kinds of water craft from them. It was also where the boat for the booze cruise docked.
Even further up was a restaurant that had a pier you could dock your boat at while you ate inside. I remembered the place. It had always been too ritzy for my family to eat at. Of course, the idea of people dressing up for dinner and then climbing into a boat to get there always cracked me up. I was sure there were women every night lined up along the bathroom mirror, with wind-blown hair, trying to undo the damage.
“Friends tell me that eating there makes for a nice evening out. Perhaps we should try it someday.”
“Yeah,” I acknowledged with a nod.
He turned his head towards me, and I felt him staring behind his own pair of sunglasses. That damn eyebrow was probably raised, too.
Eggshells, I’m forever walking on eggshells. “Yes, that sounds like a lovely idea.”
Appeased, he refocused on navigating the water.
He didn’t like the word ‘yeah’. It wasn’t an actual word. He believed that using words like ‘yeah’ and ‘nah’ made a person sound lazy and unintelligent. And, of course, flippantly tossing single word sentences like ‘Whatever.’ at him would earn you a slap across the face.
As the months had passed, I had noticed that the language I used in my thoughts had grown more involved and complex. It was an area in which his influence had seeped in, unnoticed until it was too late. I did take pleasure in the knowledge that when I was really worked up about something my thoughts reverted back to simpler language.
He kept a fairly slow pace throughout the morning. I was tempted to tease him about getting a sign for the boat that said ‘Student Driver’, but thought that probably wouldn’t go over very well. I figured that by the time he looped around to come back downriver he’d speed up, but he didn’t. He turned his attention to the far shore and rode fairly close to it, while still being in the main travelling channel.
It occurred to me that he, too, was busy scanning everything in sight. While I had been focused on refreshing my memory, and picking up a few new details, he was over there making a mental map. Why? I could only hope he was trying to match up his friends descriptions with what he was seeing, and not trying to memorize the area so he could track me down if I ran again. I didn’t enjoy my paranoia about any ulterior motives he might have. He was probably jealously looking for any other houses along the water that might look better than his, and comparing them. He was always so full of himself, yet jealous of what others had. Insecure, little bastard.
“Do you know what I find amusing, yet annoying at the same time?” he asked.
“Out here? No, what?”
“All the different names people have for their boats.”
I laughed, “I know what you mean. Some are clever, and others are meant to be funny but just aren’t.”
“Sea Ducer, Sea Duction, and Sea Men among them,” he shook his head.
“If you purchased a boat, what would you call it?”
“I don’t think you name the smaller ones.”
“You can if you want to.”
“Maybe I’ll name the next one.”
“Next one?”
“Sure. We’ll get a small cruiser like this for a few years, but then maybe upgrade to something with a cabin, for overnight trips.”
“So the first one would just be to see how we like it?”
“Yes.”
I smiled, “Then we should definitely name the first one.”
“Oh, I know that look, even with those glasses on. You’ve got something cooking in that mind. All right, I’ll bite. What should we name the boat?”
“The Betta Tester.”
He just looked at me.
“What? There’s a kind of fish called a betta, cross that with your love of all things technological.”
He just kept looking at me. I think he may have raised an eyebrow, in question, under his sunglasses.
I looked away, “Well, I thought it was clever.”
He chuckled and looked back out towards shore.
We cruised on down the river, past the island, past the far railroad bridge that I couldn’t see from the house, down to the point where the river opens even wider as it joins the Chesapeake Bay.
I had a momentary fantasy of knocking him overboard and leaving him in the boat’s wake. But it would be my luck that someone would pick him up and drop him on shore, allowing him to run. And that’s if, in his rush to catch back up with me, he doesn’t hurt the person kind enough to help him. Could a gun still shoot after being submerged in water?
Ugh! My parents had done such a crappy job of preparing me for having to escape from this nutcase!!! When I do finally get home, I’m taking away that ‘Best Daddy in the World’ mug.
Of course, if I did get away from him, I’d owe them for their encouragement of my strong-willed personality. It was why I had been able to keep myself together for so long…
He continued on, towards a place known for its shallow waters. I’d been here a hundred times. It was a popular place to bring the family, where the kiddies could swim and touch bottom, and have a picnic on the boat. And that’s exactly what Asshole had in mind. He picked a spot on the outskirts, away from the other boats, and dropped the anchor.
I nervously looked around for any boats that I might recognize. Of course, that wouldn’t stop someone I knew from coming along after I stopped looking. I’d be keeping my sunglasses firmly in place.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s eat lunch up in the front.”
“This seems like a nice place,” I said as I opened the cooler and started distributing the food.
“Yes. It sounded interesting when the guys were telling me about it. The depth averages about three feet deep here, with a nice sandy bottom. It makes for a nice place to go swimming.”
Eh, half sand, half mud…
We ate in companionable silence as we each took in the view. It seemed acceptable to him today that I would look around. After eating, I grabbed the bottle of sun block and started reapplying.
As I spread the block I kept my eye on the far shore, our location in relation to the other boats, and our distance from the closest buoy marking the main channel for
travel. Hehehe. I wonder how long it will take him to notice that we’re drifting.
He’d only dropped the anchor, he never actually set it. Even if you thought you had set the anchor, it still happened out here because the bottom was so soft. The shallow water was out in the middle, away from any shore, and there were channels all around us. You’d be swimming around and having a good time, look up and think, ‘Man, I didn’t know I’d swam so far away from the boat.’ At some point, someone figures out that it’s the boat that’s moving, not the group you’re with. That’s when the group elects whatever genius that was in charge of the anchor to go swimming after it.
It took him another twenty minutes, and the boat rocking in slightly rougher waters, to shake him out of whatever train of thought he was entertaining. He sat up and started looking around. “Hmm,” he said as he looked overboard, “I don’t think the anchor is doing its job.”
Sure, blame the hunk of metal, not the idiot who forgot what to do with it.
“We do seem to be farther away from the other boats than we were,” I said as casually as I could manage.
His eyes started darting all over the place, his head craning around as his thoughts raced. He looked like he was going to jump in the captain’s chair and start up the engine right away, eager to no longer feel that out of control feeling some people get when they’re in a moving vehicle and no one appears to be driving.
Go ahead, dude. Turn it on before you haul in the anchor. With any luck the motor will catch the anchor line and break us down. The Coast Guard patrol around here, maybe they could help us out. Or maybe a family will stop and offer us a tow, and maybe I’ll have the opportunity to steal a cell phone. I could smuggle it into a closet and make a call first thing Monday morning.
“Oh, shit.”
I did laugh then. He never cursed, he claimed that it was yet another sign of unintelligence.
“I know, I know,” he said. “Forgive my language. I almost forgot to pull the anchor. That could have been disastrous. I had thought that we might do some swimming down here, but now I feel I should review the instructions on how to properly use an anchor before we try exiting the boat. Maybe next time?”
Lulling the Kidnapper Page 11
