Watching Fireflies

by Jaycee Ford

  We all stared at Caleb as we tried to figure out where he was going with this. He pulled out another photo, but before he set it down, he said, “Let’s meet the boyfriend.”

  He laid the eight-by-ten in front of me. Those same malicious eyes stared back at me from the night I shared a beer with him. My hands shook as I clenched them into fists.

  “Ryan Gordon? Ryan was the boyfriend?” Paul asked as Caleb pulled out a blown-up copy of a student identification card.

  “Actually, his name was Randy Goodson, and Randy Goodson was never heard of again, nor is there any birth record of a Randy Goodson meeting this description.”

  “So, who the hell is Randy Goodson?” He pulled out a copy of a yearbook page, a name highlighted with a picture circled.

  Ryder Gowin. I glanced back up to Caleb, who had a proud smile on his face.

  “Ryder Gowin hopped from foster home to foster home during his high school years. When he was fourteen, his mother was murdered… by his father, who has since been tried, convicted, and executed for her murder.”

  My heart plummeted before I even asked the question.

  “Why did he kill her?”

  “She wanted a divorce.”

  “What the hell are we dealing with?” Cal asked as I kept my eyes glued on the picture of the devil.

  “A seriously screwed-up dude,” Lance’s voice echoed from beside me.

  The conversation continued between everyone in the room but me. I wanted to absorb as much hate as I possibly could for that man. I stared at the picture, the evil in his eyes, lurking years later. Never in my life had I ever dreamed of hurting someone, but the next time I saw those eyes, I swore, the barrel of my gun would be the last thing they saw.

  In truth, though, Ryan loved her. In his crazy, fucked-up mind, he loved her and wanted to be with her. He kidnapped her and has her locked up. Jordan would do everything to get on his good side; I knew it. She would never sacrifice herself. I knew she would do whatever she could to come back home to me.

  “She’s going to be okay.” My words quieted the kitchen. I didn’t know why I had said them out loud—possibly, to just reassure myself. I looked up from the picture and glanced at everyone around. I nodded as I continued, “He loves her. He won’t do anything to her.”

  “Tom… that’s not necessarily true.”

  I turned back to Caleb.

  “Sure, it is. He wants her back,” I reasoned.

  “Unless she’s fighting him off,” Paul added, but I shook my head.

  “I know Jordan. She’ll do whatever she can.”

  “We just gotta get to her,” Cal echoed behind me.

  “We need to find her,” I reaffirmed what he said. Caleb’s cell rang at that moment and hope beat in my chest.

  “Harris,” he answered. We stared at him, hoping this was a good lead. “Where at?” My chest now ached. We were so close. “How far from the interstate?” He ended the call and clipped the phone back on his belt.

  “A man fitting Ryan’s description checked into a motel the night before last about a mile outside of Morganton. They didn’t know if he had someone else with him or not. He checked in alone.”

  “Let’s go,” I said as I pushed away from the counter. He pressed his hand into my chest.

  “Tom. I can’t let you go.”

  “Then I’ll follow you there, but I’m getting my girl back.” I stared him down; I wasn’t budging on this.

  “Go get your coat, then.” He held his stare a moment longer and I nodded in acknowledgment, reading between the lines. I darted up the stairs and knelt down next to my bed, pulling out a case. I flipped it open and stared at my pistol. I popped the clip out, making sure it was fully loaded, and snapped it back into place. I stuffed it in the waistband of my jeans, turned back to my closet, and dug out my heavy coat. I ran back down the stairs and didn’t even speak to anyone on my way out. I just followed Caleb to his car and hopped in the front seat. I latched my seat belt and we darted off onto the highway with the other patrol car following close behind us.

  “Tom, if you shoot, you hand me the gun afterward.”

  “This doesn’t have to be complicated. I see Ryan or Rylan or whatever the fuck his name is, and I kill him. We can deal with the consequences afterward. I’m killing that son of a bitch.”

  “First off, you need to calm the hell down or you’re liable to shoot someone you’re not supposed to.”

  “I can handle a gun.”

  “Not in this condition, you can’t. Calm the hell down.”

  I nodded at his request and stared out into the dreary day. It looked like more snow would fall tonight, but I didn’t care. I was getting my girl back.

  • • •

  An old motel came in sight. The adrenaline pumped through my veins. My knee bounced as I tried to picture Jordan’s beautiful face. I had to believe he wouldn’t hurt her. Caleb slammed on the brakes near the room where we thought Ryan was located. I pulled off my seatbelt, but before I could jump out of the car, Caleb grabbed my arm.

  “Make sure we have an ID before doing anything, and shooting is a last resort. Got it?”

  I nodded and jumped out of the car. I ran in step with Caleb and the other two officers. When they drew their weapons, I pulled out mine, pointing it down and away from everyone. We reached room twelve. I blew out one breath in an attempt to calm my nerves, but it was no use.

  Caleb banged on the door while I kept my back against the wall next to it, flanking one officer while the other stood behind Caleb. When there was no answer, Caleb banged on the door again.

  “Police! Open the door!” With no movement inside, Caleb took a step back and kicked the door open with one powerful motion. We all ran inside. My heart clenched at the sight. The pillows were stained with blood. The sheets were thrown around. All over the floor were crumpled towels sullied with blood.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Caleb commanded.

  I respected Caleb’s order and did my best to not break down. I glanced around the room and I noticed something blue peeking out from underneath the bed. I bent down to get a better look and bile rose up my throat. It was the shirt I had just bought her—the shirt she was last seen wearing at Dixie’s. It laid on the floor in front of me, shredded to pieces.

  TODAY WAS CHRISTMAS Eve.

  It has been six days since I last saw Tom.

  I was continuously drugged by Ryan for three days after he kidnapped me. Thankfully, I have no recollection of what he chose to do to me in that time. Lucky for me, I got my period the night after waking up, and he wouldn’t touch me after that. He never used to. Treated me like the plague during that time of the month, but due to the wonders of the birth control pill, he knew that my periods only lasted four days, which meant I had today left before he would be expecting something from me. He was absolutely unstable—the padded room kind.

  This cabin I had been held hostage in was supposed to be my wedding gift from my ex-fiancé. If I had actually cared for the bastard, I might have been flattered, but I couldn’t give a shit. It really was a lovely cabin. The house was suspended mid-air on the side of a mountain and anchored to it in order to stay in place. The front of the house was the only portion that was actually on land. I had always said I wished I had a mountain home where I could have little getaways. His sane side must have bought it for me. This reason alone was why he took me here. He assumed he could win me back with this lavish house and trying to show me what our lives would be like together again. That would never happen.

  I had treated Ryan like a prince since he stopped drugging me, just so I could be in his good graces. He had even trusted me enough to leave me at the cabin alone while he went out a few times. Unfortunately, he locked the door from the outside, and I had no way of unlocking it from the inside. I suggested one time that I make him his favorite meal I used to cook for him. I had never been that much of a cook, but I could make pasta. I pleaded with him to get me the ingredients to make dinner for him, to make
up to him since I couldn’t do anything else for him, and he agreed.

  Stupid fool.

  During those few times, I calculated that it took him roughly an hour and a half to go into town. Within that time frame, I would work out and build up my strength again. Then I would shower before he came back, hiding his sweats that I used and putting on the lingerie he had for me. They were the only clothes he let me have. I really didn’t know how my once simple life as a teacher ended up like this.

  I had to put my plan to escape into motion. Tomorrow was D-Day.

  I waltzed into the kitchen wearing a black and white lingerie ensemble, sat on the kitchen stool to his right and threw my legs over him as he flipped through a magazine. I knew he would put his hands on my legs. I also knew he liked clean-shaven women.

  “Jordan, what is this?”

  I flicked through another magazine, acting like I didn’t understand.

  “What are you talking about, baby?” I tilted my head in question and played stupid.

  “Why haven’t you shaved your legs?” The harshness oozed from his voice. I restrained from flinching and I forced down the fear that wanted to arise.

  “Oh, baby, you know I don’t like those kinds of razors that you use,” I said, batting my eyes. “They always give me razor burn, and it stings so much.” The way I had to act toward him was disheartening, but I needed to do it to get out of here.

  “Well, it should be good enough for you.” He turned away, and I reached out and touched his arm.

  “Sweetie, I have to shave… you know… down there,” I said, pointing downward. “I can’t have razor burn. I want to be perfect for you.” I needed him out of the house one last time before tomorrow. “You know I only like those pink ones.” I smiled at him seductively and leaned into his ear.

  “Come on, big boy, please do one little thing for me so I can rock you all day tomorrow.” Gag me. He grabbed my chin, yanking it toward him. I knew he would wiggle his slimy tongue in my mouth. I endured it. It was the price I had to pay in order to be free from him. He pulled his mouth away from mine as a grin slid up his face.

  “Those pink ones with the flowers?”

  I nodded and smiled.

  “That’s them.” I winked in order to convince him more, but instead of leaving, he grazed his hand down my chest, squeezing my barely-covered breast.

  “Tomorrow is going to be a very satisfying Christmas morning.”

  I nodded as I swallowed the anxiety rising up my stomach. He stood up from the stool and didn’t give me a backward glance as he headed out the door. I exhaled as I tried to keep myself from shaking. I closed my eyes and pictured Tom. I pictured our future together. I pictured the life we would have when I found my way into his arms again.

  Tom’s love gave me the strength I needed to get off the stool and make sure I could be strong enough to get out of here. I didn’t know where in the mountains we were, but I couldn’t rely on the people I loved to find me. I had to take care of myself and stand up to the bastard who put me here. I started doing the workout routine that I had developed the past few days, willing myself to become as strong as possible. I focused on Tom. Tom was my strength.

  In gauging the time that had passed, I figured I had about twenty minutes left before he got back, and I headed toward the bathroom to shower, not worrying about washing my hair. I made myself as presentable as possible and put on the same black and white lingerie ensemble I had on before my work out. I didn’t want him to get suspicious that I took a shower.

  I heaved a breath as I left the bathroom and glanced out of the window. A plan tickled my brain. My desire to rid myself of this bastard brought me over to the large window in the master bedroom that we unfortunately had to share. I flicked a small latch on the inside of the window pane, allowing it to push open outward. After I made sure it would be easy to open again, I shut it, leaving it ever so slightly ajar, but not noticeable at all.

  The door to the bedroom creaked open and I cringed inwardly, pretending I was staring out over the view. Ryan’s arms wrapped around me while his face nuzzled against my neck. I decided to play the game and wrapped my fingers around his as he pulled me close to him.

  “Isn’t the view here so perfect? I can’t believe you bought this for us.” Turning around to face him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes, hoping for any sign that I would get out of this, and I asked, “Do you promise to never hurt me again? We need to love each other. I want to be enough for you, so you don’t have to go somewhere else to get it.”

  His evil grin appeared as he gripped my ass and crushed my body toward him. “If you give me what I want, I won’t have to look somewhere else.”

  “I’ll give you anything you want… tomorrow! You know I’m so crampy, baby,” I whined as I rested my head on his chest. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me off him. My eyes popped open, the fear tumbling out. He grabbed my chin, pressing his lips to mine, and yanked it back.

  “Well, you’re still going to have to do something for me now.” He pressed down on my shoulders and forced me on my knees. He unzipped his jeans and I bit my shaking lip. I did what I had to do and acted like I enjoyed it.

  Before he could zip his jeans back up, I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower, again. I scrubbed the filth away, holding my tears back. I used the razor this time so he would go along with the idea that I would willingly have sex with him tomorrow. I didn’t care what it took. I would not be in this God forsaken cabin after tomorrow. One of us would die, and by God, I would make sure that it wouldn’t be me.

  My plan had to work.

  • • •

  Today was the day… it was D-Day, the day that I would storm the beaches of Normandy.

  Kill or be killed.

  It was the only way out. I loved Tom with all of my being, but after what I had done, I was afraid he might not ever love me again. I could only hope that he would take me back, but the only way I could get back to him was to kill the devil first. I hopped out of bed early to make him a lavish breakfast with eggs, grits, and bacon. While I stood at the stove, he wrapped his arms around me as his revolting arousal nudged my lower back.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  I wiggled out of his arms and turned around, pointing a spatula in his face.

  “Nuh-uh-uh… not until breakfast, mister.” I wished I could slap his face with the spatula, but instead I leaned up to kiss his lips and whispered, “Eat your breakfast while I take a shower to get ready for you. Don’t come up until I call you.”

  He swatted my ass as I turned away. I glared as I continued my walk into the bedroom.

  He would suffer for that.

  I gave myself a really fast scrub in the shower and put on a very revealing two-piece ensemble. I lit candles throughout the room for effect. It was a cloudy cold day this Christmas morning, and I hoped to be in Tom’s arms by the day’s end. I set down the lighter and pulled open the drawer on his night side table. Adrenaline began to flood my system as I grabbed a little something that put me through hell the first few days. I nestled the end of the syringe inside the waistband of my thong with the needle sticking out, being careful not to poke myself in the stomach.

  I faced the window, waiting for him to walk in behind me. My eyes held a murderous stare over the vast mountain side. My heart pounded inside my chest as my hands fisted with hatred. I clenched my teeth.

  It was now or never.

  Either he dies or I die.

  “Ryan,” I yelled as I glared across the peaks of Mount Mitchell. “Come and get me!”

  The door slowly crept open. I held my stare over the bare mountain as my blood turned cold, seething ice through my veins. One hand rested on the window sill as the other kept a death grip locked around the syringe. The floor creaked with each of his steps. I was five steps away from freedom, whether it be from walking out of the door or the end of my existence. Whichever way the pendulum swung, I accepted my fate. This was
D-Day. The day someone would die.

  I counted each of his steps.

  Five. I inhaled deep.

  Four. I emptied my lungs in a silent exhale.

  Three. My heart pounded and I readied myself.

  Two. The breath caught in my throat.

  One. My heart stopped.

  In a swift crouch, I threw my leg back in a kick, aiming directly for his groin. My heel struck his erection in a full blow. He staggered backward, groaning from the hit, and I threw my arm around, gripping the syringe and impaling it deep into his bicep. As he hunched over at the waist yelping in pain, I swung my leg around and side swiped his face. A sharp pain shot through my ankle, but I ignored it. The thought of Tom kept me from tumbling. He fell to the floor, but caught himself. He pulled himself to his knees as I backed up toward the window again. His swayed as the drugs entered his system, and I clenched my fists for whatever came at me next. His eyes glassed over, but the devil fire still bled through. This was the moment where God decided who lived and who died.

  He charged at me in three drugged steps. I crouched low as his flailing body careened toward me. As soon as his body hovered over my crouch, I pushed up against his charging momentum, and by using all the strength I had, I launched him through the unlatched window. I held onto its ledge as gravity began to pull me over with him, but I pulled myself off him. By instinct, he grabbed onto the window’s ledge as a flash of adrenaline kept him from falling. His legs dangled, hanging above the earth.

  “You fucking bitch! I am going to kill you.” He slurred his words, and his eyes turned wicked as they jerked from the drugs. My death stare locked with his as realization shocked his face. His eyes followed my hand as I gripped the handle of the open window. I sneered back at him, mimicking the evil he emblazed upon me.

  “Rot. In. Hell.”

  I pulled the window down with every bit of my strength and slammed it brutally on his fingers that clutched on for dear life. He released a yelp as one hand fell away. My grip tightened on the handle, and with every muscle in my body, I slammed it down again, shattering the window. Shards of glass flew outward, raining on the devil. He released a gasp as his hand slipped from my view. I bent over, through the broken window. A gut-wrenching scream echoed into nothing. His flailing body slammed onto a rock. The silence proved his death. Silence was the sound of freedom. The fear and anxiety poured out of me as I fell to the wooden floor, tears streaming down my face. I had killed Ryan. I had killed my ex-fiancé. I could go home.