Chapter One

My fingers are frozen. My shoulders are shaking. Tears trickling down my cheeks burn my skin. I’ve been hiding here for two hours. I pray to God that he won’t find me here, but I still know he will. He’s coming to collect his reward.

I despise myself for trusting him, for letting him befriend me, for letting him get in my head. I despise myself for falling in love with him.

Footsteps creeping up behind me cause me to jump. A hand clamps over my mouth; I bite down, hard.

“Ow!” His voice yelps. “Stop Cady, I’m going to help you. Just get up and follow me silently.”

“Follow you?” I whisper. “No, I will not follow you. Do you honestly think I would still trust you after what you did?” I am screaming now. “Oh sure, I’ll go with you, why not? All you did was destroy everything I cared about!” The tears that burned with sadness now sting with anger.

“Look, I don’t know what they told you but it’s all a lie. Just follow me and I’ll prove it to you.” He takes my arm at the elbow and half leads, half drags me to his car. The car I had once felt so safe in now looks like a death trap as it looms behind a tree in the dark.

The passenger door slams and hits my shoulder. He climbs in beside me and looks me in the eye, as if attempting to read my thoughts. “Cady,” He whispers. “I know that over the last year I’ve done some bad things. I know that I’ve lost your trust but I need you to believe me when I promise you that everything I did was to protect you.

“Your promises mean nothing to me.” I break eye-contact. “Just take me where you want, I don’t care anymore. Everything else is ruined so why shouldn’t I be ruined too?” I cross my arms over my chest like a child throwing a tantrum, I’ve given up fighting him.

“Because not everything is ruined. I admit to having wrecked many things in your life. Things that you cared about, family, school,” his voice falters, “us.”

“I didn’t care about us.” I shoot back. I wince at the harshness in my voice. The tears are back and I try to calm myself with three deep breaths; it doesn’t work.

I feel his shoulder shift away and his hands grip the wheel. My head twists slightly and I notice his knuckles turning white. The car rumbles beneath me and we jerk forward. The wheels carry us down the street at 50 miles per hour and we skid around the corner. The headlights coming from the car are the only lights in the streets on this moonless night. Up ahead, about four blocks down, is his apartment building. We slam to a stop in front of the building and I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding. His driving has always made me jump, usually the jolt feels exciting, freeing. Tonight the radical driving feels like a death threat.

“Come on, we’re going up.” He opens my door and guides me to the elevator. He digs his key out of his pocket and a tag reading Alex Bennett dangles from the head of the key.

Alex, I remember when I first bumped into him  His eyes were inviting, his smile was warm, his face seemed familiar, as if I was coming home to it. That first time I said his name, I never wanted to forget it. Unfortunately, that wish has come true. There is no way I could ever forget or forgive what he has done.

The elevator doors open revealing three men waiting on the fifth floor, Alex’s floor.

“Hello Cady,” The tallest man in the middle nods to me, then to Alex. “Alex. Where are you two headed?” At first I don’t recognize the men but slowly the memory resurfaces.

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It was my birthday and we were supposed to be celebrating, but it was a Thursday and that meant all of Dad’s business associates were coming over. Dad would take them into the family room and Mom and I would go upstairs. That night I wanted to find out what they always did, why they always came, why there were always so many empty bottles the next day, why Dad always dreaded Thursday nights. I figured since I had just turned sixteen, it was finally time that I could learn the truth about what happened on those nights. I snuck down the carpeted stairs and darted to the door to press my ear against the wall. Gruff, gravelly voices were all I could hear. No distinct voice rose above the rest. The voices all melded together to develop this monster of atrocious noise. The doorknob started turning and I sprung back. Three men strode out and looked at me. All of them started laughing and said, “Hello Cady.” Just then my father ran out and stepped in front of me to protect me as if I was a little girl, and right then I felt like one. The tallest man smiled a cruel smile, the same smile he was presenting to Alex and me right now.

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“What are you doing here, Jordan?” Alex asks the front man. His voice seems smaller than usual and he doesn’t look him in the eye.

“Well, Alex,” Jordan spits out his name as though the word presents a bitter taste in his mouth. “We guessed that you would try to do something drastic, like bring Cady here, and we were right. You see, boy, when you want to get away with something think like a man, not like a scared puppy." Jordan and his friends begin laughing and he clamps a hand on Alex's shoulder, usually a friendly gesture. Their cackles remind me of that night and instantly I hate all three men.

The events that happen next come in slow motion. First, I see Alex’s fist ascending to punch Jordan’s left cheek. My right foot stretches out and nails the guy on the right just below his waist. He crumples to the floor yelping in pain. Alex has finished with Jordan and is now on the other goon. When all three men are on the ground, we dash to his apartment and slam the door behind us. I take a few seconds to catch my breath. Alex is rummaging through a wooden chest on my left. To my right, are two suitcases and two duffel bags. A pound on the door makes me jump and my skin starts to crawl.

“I know you two are in there!” Jordan’s voice threatens. "You can't stay in there forever! And we'll either wait until you try something else stupid or beat down this door!"

“Grab those two duffel bags, I got the suitcases, now let’s go. It's an easy climb to the ground from the window in my bedroom.” Alex’s whispers are urgent and even though I don’t trust him, I trust Jordan even less. Down the hallway to his bedroom I spot pictures of us together lining the wall. One has a pink wooden frame I made him and inside the frame is his favorite picture of us. I’m on his back and the camera is only catching the side of our silhouettes. The setting sun in front of us eliminates enough of our faces to see our smiles. The picture was taken by a lake two summers ago when we stayed in Maine. Alex had just inherited an incredibly beautiful and secluded log cabin and decided to surprise me by taking me up there for the summer. That summer was during our ‘honeymoon’ phase: a time when I thought nothing could go wrong. 

I have never been more mistaken.

When we get out the window, we dash to his car. We hunch over so as not to be seen. The sun is rising, painting beautiful colors across the sky. Dew gives off a fresh smell. Birds singing, fill my ears with music. My breath tastes of morning air. Wind combs my hair, brushing stray strands across my face. For a moment, I just stand there, wanting to be a part of this dazzling scene and not wanting to be me. For a moment I allow myself to picture the life I wanted; with my mother and father still with me, with a boyfriend who I still loved and trusted, with this morning just being another beautiful morning. For a moment, I can pretend that I’m happy again.

I open my eyes not realizing I had shut them and I let go of my fantasies to get into the car with Alex, for the second time that night.

“Where are we going?” Dryness in my throat leads to my voice cracking. The suitcases lay on the backseat so I throw the duffel bags back with them.

“I can’t tell you but I promise it’s somewhere safe.” Alex keeps his eyes glued to the road ahead. Not looking at me as though he is hiding something.

“Alex, tell me exactly where we are going or I swear I will jump out of this car and roll off the side of the road, dead.” I emphasize the last word knowing he won’t be able to lie again, if there's one thing I know for sure about Alex it's that he believes most exaggerations.

“Okay, okay I am taking us to the cabin by the lake in Maine. No one else knows about it so that’s the only place we will be safe.”

“Well, you might be safe but I’ll be there with you. Is there any alternative?” I add sarcasm to my tone because I know that there is no other option but he has to recognize how much I mistrust him.

He pulls us onto the shoulder and Alex stops the car. I hear him take a deep breath, he then angles his body towards mine.

“Cady, what did they tell you about me? I need to know.” I see the desperation in his eyes and I hear the pleading in his voice.

Now it’s my turn to take a deep breath. I glance out the window and observe a red robin pecking at the ground. “I got a phone call one night.” I start, still studying the scene out the window. “It was three days after Dad’s funeral and I didn’t want to talk to anyone but I thought it was you calling and since you didn’t show up for the funeral I did want to talk you. You weren’t on the other end of the phone though, it was a rough voice. He told me that you didn’t go to the funeral because you were responsible for his death.” I’m hunched over crying now, the story is coming out in hiccups. Alex reaches over to twist me to face him but I resist his strong grip. “The voice said that my father’s death was no accident. That he was meant to die. He said that you were paid to rip the brakes out of his car early one morning before he went to work. I was about to argue with him, to stand up for you but he played me a recording.” A soft, ‘no’ escapes from Alex’s breath. I continue. “The recording was of you agreeing to sabotage my father. I started wailing so loudly that the only other words I could hear from the voice was him saying that if I called the police or even told my mother, the same thing would happen to me.”

Now, my tears are not the only ones in the car. Silently, tears slide down Alex’s face and curve with the slope of his cheekbones. I stare out the window again and the scene is still as captivating as ever. Golden, auburn, and apricot colored leaves scatter the hard ground as autumn slowly becomes winter. Bare branches sway in the breeze, waving to the cars on the road. Even through the glass window, chilled air claws at my cheeks, causing the skin to become raw. Warm air from my breath condenses against the window and I realize that Alex has turned off the heat. I peer over at him, not wanting him to notice, and see that his tears have stopped.

“Alex?” I cautiously whisper.

“I’m so sorry Cady. I’m so damn sorry.” With his face turning red, he murmurs these words. “Your father was a good man, the only good one I ever knew.”

I turn completely so I can see his entire body. Alex’s shoulders are hunched over, cradling his closed left fist. Gently, I reach toward his hand and open his balled up knuckles. Inside, his skin is dented with the outline of a key. I clutch the shiny, slim, silver object with my fingers. On the head of the key, the number 57 is prominent in red sharpie.

“What’s this?” My confused expression matches Alex’s face.

Alex’s draws in a deep breath and breathes out slowly, trying to regain a steady breathing pace. “Before we ran to my apartment, I grabbed it out of Jordan’s pocket. The key was reflecting the light so it caught my eye. I thought it might help.” This last sentence comes out sheepishly, which makes me suspicious.

“Help what?” I question. Alex shifts his body and leans his shoulder into mine.

“I feel terrible for what happened to your dad, and I know that the only way to prove to you that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, is to find out who’s really behind this. I don't know who is in charge of the operation but I am going to do everything to find out. ” Alex’s eyes give me no reason to say no. Behind the green, all I can see is truth. “Cady, I'm not the bad guy here. Please, the only way we can do this is together.”

In my mind, ideas and emotions are churning. I don’t trust Alex, yet I need to know who did this to my father. If he is telling the truth, I need to find who is behind this.

“Fine,” I reply, my eyes fixed ahead of me, staring at nothing in particular. “I want to find out too. But know this: I don't trust you. That phone call broke me, you broke me. And when my mother disappeared I assumed it was you and even now I still believe you had something to do with it." He tries to protest but I continue on. "But, I also hope that at least part of what you are claiming is true and if it is, then I want to find out everything I can about what happened to my parents." I keep my voice monotone, trying not to show any of the emotions balled up inside of me.

Alex doesn't reply right away, mulling over what I've just told him. "Okay." He says slowly. "I understand why you still feel like you can't trust me. Just please give me a chance to prove that I really don't know what is going on. And I swear I had nothing to do with your moth-"

"This is me giving you a chance. Don't waste it."

Beside me Alex nods and turns forward. The car rumbles to life and my shoulders hit the back of the seat. Warm air starts puffing out from the heater and the swaying of the car reminds me of my exhaustion. As I close my eyes I hear these last words slip from Alex's mouth: "I won't." 

The usually coarse and irritable material of the seat belt feels protective and for the first time tonight, I feel safe.

Author's Note

Extremely rough draft

Reviews

[Dave]

This is the beginning of what I would imagine is a very interesting story. The possibilities of where it goes from this point seem myriad. The repartee between your two primary characters is very good.

I tend to write romance stories. If you're interested in that kind of thing I have two short stories posted here you might like: The Picture is one and Sand Castles is another although it is somewhat longer. -- Take care - Dave

[aj milton]

I like your use of dialogue which nicely helps to tell parts of the story and keeps the pace moving.

One thing to watch out for: most of your story is told in present tense, but occasionally you slip into past tense.

[mae23]

Thank you! I tried to make sure the only past tense used was when the narrator was remembering events but I will keep that in mind!

[aj milton]

Ah... looking back again.. yes indeed, in which case ignore that comment. Although maybe some extra formatting like an additional paragraph break could differentiate those retrospective passages. (Although Writers Cafe makes hard work and needs manual formatting)

Anyway I look forward to whatever may happen next!

[mae23]

Yes I was thinking about playing around with ways to represent that change in tenses I just wasn't sure how to approach it. Thank you for your commenting!