by Reid, Angela
“Oh my God, Cade, this place is incredible. Who owns it?” I asked, spinning in circles, completely astounded.
“My boss does. He gave me use for the entire evening. I know your mom said you had to be home by curfew, but that still leaves us about seven hours. Do you think that’s enough time?” he asked, taking me in his arms and kissing me so passionately my knees buckled. The dinner could wait, as we were both starving for something unrelated to food. His new body, created at the gym, felt different, more defined and rock solid, but other than that, nothing had changed for us, and all of my doubts quickly dissipated.
We rolled out of bed and ate during the last two hours before I had to be home. The chilled champagne was non-alcoholic, but we enjoyed it like it was real. After dessert, Cade got down on one knee in front of me. I had no idea what he was doing.
“Ellia,” he began, “I know we are only seventeen, but I love you more than life. Right now, we are too young to get married, but will you wear this ring as a promise of our future together.” He opened a little black box and inside set a gold and sapphire ring, the clear blue stone surrounded by tiny diamonds. My eyes filled with tears.
“Yes, I will promise myself to you, Cade Cantrell,” I said and slid down on the floor to embrace him. He put the ring on my left hand and we made love one last time.
Cade drove well past the speed limit, making it home with a minute to spare. He walked me to the door and fixed my hair for me, not wanting the obvious thrown in my mother’s face. He took me in his arms and kissed me. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” I whispered back, and then went inside, giving him one last wave before shutting the door.
***
The last time I saw Cade, he told me to stop dwelling on the past, but time was all I had on my hands. Thinking about that perfect night we’d shared, when he promised me a future, was hard to bear. I hadn’t thought about it since he died, never allowing the memories that scooped out my insides to enter my mind. But I couldn’t stop the flood of those long buried retentions now. I still knew where that little box with the sapphire ring sat, though I had not looked it since the day I pried it off of my finger. I kept it in a fire safe in my closet, not wanting to ever let go of it, but not able to look at it, either. The pain was too great.
Nearly three weeks passed after Cade left the apartment, for what I assumed was the final time. I’d seen him once since then, standing on the sidewalk below my room talking to someone, but then he’d gotten in a car and driven away. I’d been eating a few meals a day, but not much at a time. The boredom didn’t help my depression, and I was losing my will to live a little more each day, like a shoreline being eroded by daily floods. They brought me books to read and video games to play, but I refused everything, preferring to lay in bed and stare out the window. I rebuffed interaction with the agents, knowing they didn’t like me very much. A particular tension seemed evident with Agent Mendiola. Her snide comments about my apathy, selfishness, and ungratefulness, fell on deaf ears most days. Her opinion rarely riled me.
I’d never been so alone and isolated in my entire life. The tears had long since dried, and I stuffed the feelings away and replaced them with a numb void. Even though I hiked through the past on a daily basis, the emotions that used to attach themselves to the images, were hiding, and I preferred it that way. I’ve become as robotic as my captors, I thought. The only emotions left, revealed themselves in my hellish nightmares, which consumed me nearly every night of the week. I knew the agents had surpassed compassion and moved on to annoyance with my nightly screaming and thrashing.
They took me outside a few times, to ease their own boredom and let me get fresh air. No one followed us, and I began to believe the danger had passed. As the end of November approached, I started to think about giving up the protected custody. There was still no news of my mom or brother, and I had no reason to go on in misery. Suicidal thoughts plagued me. The most difficult decision was how to carry out the deed. The agents were always watching me. I would have to leave them to achieve my goal, it became obvious.
Two days before Thanksgiving, Roberts and Mendiola told me they would be relieved of duty to spend time with their families over the holidays. The FBI assigned a couple of local cops to look after me until they returned.
The next morning, I refused to acknowledge Roberts and Mendiola as they said goodbye and wished me a happy Thanksgiving. I completely snubbed the new detail. As I sat in my room alone, I decided it was time to go. With the agents gone, I wasn’t putting anyone in danger. The local cops wouldn’t even try to stop me, I was sure. They didn’t want to be there either. If Dacks and his men killed me, it would save me from doing it myself. No one was left to miss me or be hurt by my absence.
Later that night, the two men had a pizza delivered by a fellow officer, but I refused to eat, wound to tight about my plan to leave. The local boys fell asleep, not taking the protection assignment too seriously, and I had to laugh at how easy my desertion would be.
I swiped a few bucks from the wallet of one of the policemen, happy he was a heavy sleeper. After packing a few items in my purse, I was ready to make the great escape. Most likely, no other agents were in the building since nothing had happened in weeks, and it was a holiday. Just in case, I took the stairwell, not the elevator, and slowly worked my way around the building until I found a service entrance. Even though I had the choice to leave, I didn’t want to be hassled about it. I opened the squeaky steel door just a crack to peruse the sidewalk, but I didn’t see anyone. The cold winter air hit me like a wall when I stepped outside the building. I hid inside my hood and pulled a pair of gloves over my hands, having no idea where I wanted to go. With the stealth of a panther, I crept out onto a small cement stairway and then took off in a jog. The wind bit my face, but I ran until my legs were too weak to continue, which wasn’t far. I was completely out of shape and still emaciated. My lungs were on fire.
It was late and not much was open, but I found an open-all-night restaurant where I treated myself to coffee and pie. I laughed out loud, proud of myself for having so easily slipped out of FBI custody.
After my dessert and java, I walked until I came to the park the agents had let me walk in during our outings. I gleaned it wasn’t safe to be there, not because of my father, just because of the everyday thugs that probably lurked in there. I was willing to risk it, though, and kept hiking. The sun began to rise, and I realized I was dangerously cold. It was time to find a warm place to go before I succumbed to hypothermia. At the end of the street, I found a small motel, one that catered to prostitutes by the looks of the clientele coming and going. After I rented a cheap room with the cash I had on hand, I cranked up the heat and lay down on the old brown bedspread, free at last.
When I woke, it was check-out time, and I couldn’t believe I’d slept so many hours without a single nightmare. For the first time in weeks, I felt rested. I donned my hoodie and gloves, the only clothing I’d brought, before heading back out into the frigid air. The agents were probably looking for me by then, so I would have to be vigilant. I found an ATM and withdrew all the money in my account. It didn’t seem to matter whether my house went into foreclosure or my car was repossessed since I would be dead soon. After hailing a cab, I headed to the airport. With no particular destination in my mind, my plan was to take my life in a place that held no memories for me, thinking it would allow for a more peaceful exit. Cade was right, I was weak-minded, but I didn’t care in the least.
When the cab pulled up in front of the airport, I saw two men in suits standing at the entrance. Something about them gave me pause. Paranoia kicked in, and I was sure they were FBI, so I instructed the driver to keep going. Instead, I went to a four-star hotel, figuring if I waited a few days, the security would lighten. Cade and the other agents had told me they were holding me as a courtesy for my own safety, but I wasn’t sure anymore. I trusted no one. Everyone had an agenda and would use me to their own benefit despite
what I wanted. I checked into the swanky hotel and paid cash, though I had to put my credit card on file. It was another flaw in my plot. They could trace me via the card, so I would have to scrap the plan of traveling to my death. I needed to finish myself off before they found me. My thought process and ability to reason, seemed lost under the melancholy. I didn’t know what I was doing or why.
After checking into a luxury suite, I visited the posh salon in the building, catering to the elite. Frivolity was the name of the game. I had my hair highlighted and trimmed, along with a manicure and pedicure. If nothing else, I’d look decent at my funeral, even if no one was there but the grave diggers. The next day, I ate an elaborate Thanksgiving meal in the dining room and soaked in my private Jacuzzi for hours. Wrapped in a plush complimentary robe, I drank two bottles of expensive red wine and took a handful of over-the-counter sleeping pills. I was sure I’d never wake up, but the feeling was perfect and peaceful. Nearly twenty-four hours later, I woke up screaming from a nightmare and covered in vomit I didn’t remember spewing. Jesus, Ellia, you can’t even kill yourself worth a fuck. You are such a loser.
I cleaned up the mess and took a shower, positive my skull would implode. I vomited bile on and off for an hour and had an extreme round of diarrhea before I fell asleep again. The next morning, I woke just as the sun was rising over the city with my head still throbbing and another nightmare fresh on my mind. The dreams always revolved around Cade. I still could not escape him, not awake or asleep, and I hated him for it.
I gathered a few belongings, and checked out of the hotel, with no plan in mind at all. The wind could blow me where ever it chose. Shoppers crowded the streets, taking advantage of after-Thanksgiving sales, and I blended in as one of them.
I strolled along, appearing as a normal person to the rest of the world, but feeling devoid of humanity, internally. I stopped to look at a dress in a window. It reminded me of the gown I’d worn to homecoming my senior year, but I was really just seeing inside my mind to the memories that held me prisoner. The dress looked nothing like that in reality.
The reflection of a man standing behind me, caught my eye. He was staring right at me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my gut said he wasn’t there shopping for anything but me. I went inside the store to mingle with the customers, hoping I’d lose him. Everywhere I walked, he seemed to be there, his bald head gleaming in the florescent lighting. He was a big guy, dressed in black, and he looked to be in forties or fifties. I was scared of his menacing presence, though he’d not given me a legitimate reason to be. Regrets about my decision to leave FBI custody surfaced. Maybe I wasn’t ready to die, after all. I should’ve kept my ass in that apartment under the protection of those two sleeping dopes. Fear had me in its icy hands, and I ran. He paced me, and I was in deep trouble. Gone was all that bravado about facing death and not caring about my life. The panic inside me proved I wanted to live. I entered a dressing room, thinking I’d slipped him, and asked a woman to borrow her cell phone to call 911. The woman lent me the phone, and I dialed in the emergency number. With no hesitation, the operator directed me to an FBI line.
“Miss Meyers, I am Special Agent Rodriquez, what is your location?” he asked.
“I am in a big department store on Jefferson Avenue. I think it’s called, The Emporium. There is a man chasing me. What should I do?” I asked, nearing a frantic level of anxiety.
“Where are you in the store?” He remained calm, but I sensed desperation in his tone.
“I’m in a dressing room but …” I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence. The man found me, and we stood face to face.
“Hello, Ellia,” he said. “Getting a little shopping done without your Bureau friends, I see.” He held the gun up to my face, and I dropped the woman’s cell phone. I could still hear Special Agent Rodriquez calling my name. The woman whose mobile I’d borrowed screamed, and the man turned his gun on her, shooting her between her dark brown eyebrows. The silencer muffled the sound, but it still seemed to pierce my eardrums. As if in slow motion, the middle-aged lady fell to the floor, her open blue eyes accusing me. The man backed me up against the wall as a shriek flew from my lips, echoing in the changing stall. He slapped his meaty hand over my mouth.
“Shut up, right now, or I will kill someone else. Do you want to live with that, Ellia? Walk out of here nice and calm. Do exactly what I tell you so no more innocent people have to die. Are you going to be a good girl?” I nodded. “Excellent,” he said and removed his hand from my face. He tucked the gun back in his jacket. “Let’s go.” I walked in front of him and could feel his breath on my neck me as we exited the store. A car waited curbside for us, and he told me to get in into the backseat where Dacks sat with his bulk filling up two spaces. The bald man got in the front side passenger seat.
“Well, here is our little princess,” said Dacks, laughing. “You did your FBI friends a favor. We were coming for you, but you walked out on your own.” He chuckled, revealing his yellowed teeth. “You probably saved a few lives. Does that make you feel good, honey? What the FBI fails to grasp, is that we have people everywhere—in every organization. It was just a matter of time before we found your location. In a world of technology, where information and surveillance can be easily purchased, invisibility is a thing of the past.” He put his arm around my shoulders and kept talking as I shirked away from him.
“We have an update for you. We located your daddy on a beach, living the good life. Such a shame he has no remorse for the pain he’s caused his family. We would let you go, sweetheart, and your people, but your father is a stubborn fellow whose love of money clouds his judgement. He didn’t break when Beth, your sweet momma, begged for mercy. I think the sick bastard enjoyed seeing his ex-old-lady nearly fucked to death right in front of him--who knows. Daddy still didn’t break when your poor little brother had his fingers cut off one by one. That young man wailed like a little girl, but your dad didn’t flinch. Our sources tell us he was closest to you, Miss Ellia, so now it’s your turn. I suppose if watching you suffer doesn’t break him, we will have to kill you, too.” He said ‘too,’ which confirmed my mom and brother were already dead. My stomach clenched into knots, and I considered jumping from the car to save myself hours of torture.
“If we don’t get what we need from daddy dearest, I guess the consolation will be in that his entire clan is wiped off the planet, and that makes me feel a little better. Money can be replaced.” Just as he uttered the last words, someone hit the car from behind, sending my face into the seat in front of me, making my nose bleed. Another blow to the car repeated the process. I put on my seat belt, not knowing what was happening.
A black SUV had pulled up beside us on the driver’s side, and I could see Agent Roberts and Cade in the front seat. They directed the driver to pull over, but he refused and sped up the car. Roberts angled his vehicle in front of us and a state trooper pulled up beside us. They had the car boxed in and Dacks’ driver swore as he tried to maneuver around them. We were on the highway by then, and the driver rammed into the cop car next to us, causing the officer to spin out. We drove into the median and onto the opposite side of the expressway. Cade and Roberts caught up to us, and Cade motioned for me to lay down in the seat as he took aim into the car.
“Lose these assholes,” screamed Dacks at his driver. The bald man from the store rolled down the passenger window and fired at the SUV. With unexpected force, the front tire of the car blew, but I didn’t know if it was bad luck or from an FBI bullet. Dack’s driver lost control, and we were spinning. I remembered how the last care chase had ended. Now I was a passenger in the ill-fated vehicle, and when it veered for the ditch, I braced myself for impact. The nose of the car hit the rise on the other side of the conduit, smashing the front in and putting the engine in the lap of Dacks’ driver. The car flipped upside down and came to rest. I hit my head and blacked out.
I awoke in a hospital to the beeping of a pulse oximeter and tried to sit up,
but the pain that screamed across my skull and down my neck, stopped me. I squeezed my eyes shut and released an involuntary moan. “Relax, Ellia,” I heard Cade say. “You’re in the hospital, and you’re safe; just rest.”
“Cade,” I said, confused, thinking I was back in high school. I reached out my hand to him, and he took it, but it wasn’t the hand of the boy I loved. It was the hand of a man I didn’t know. I opened my eyes and looked at him, trying to pull away, but he held fast to it. He sat down on the hospital bed, next to me. The tears came as remembered what happened, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I shouldn’t have run away, and I am so sorry. God, sometimes I am so stupid and impulsive. Were any policemen or agents killed or hurt? Did that woman in the store live?” I asked, knowing the answer to the latter question already.
“No, all of the good guys are fine. The woman in the store didn’t make it, and neither did Dacks. His driver is in critical condition, and the man from the store is in police custody. Why did you leave, Ellia? We’ve poured so much time and resources into protecting you from these people. Why would you take off on your own? Do you want to die?” he asked, still holding my hand.
My eyes found his. “I did … I do ... I’m not sure anymore because I’m already dead in so many ways. I have nothing left to live for, so what is the point in staying alive? You should’ve just let them take me. They caught my father, and they’ve killed my family. He still won’t give them the money. It’s laughable if they think making him watch me suffer will break him. He doesn’t give a shit about me and never has. They can kill me, too, and then this will finally be over for all of us.”
He was quiet for a moment, studying my face. “This situation has been hell for you, but don’t give up on your life. You will get through this. I have faith in you. You got through a rough patch before and you can do it again.”
