So I’m realizing the more that I add to this blog out of order, the less it is for the readers and the more it is for me to come and dump my story into. In order to have everything be in the correct order, the story would have to be complete. The story is not complete. This is just a space to get parts of it onto “paper.” Into the world. A way of being accountable. I hope that’s okay with you, reader!
I’m currently on day two of my summer break. I have another week or so until summer school starts and I had the itch to write again.
I’ve been thinking that I need to give the villain more of a motive, so I might need to flesh out his background. Maybe this can happen in flashbacks?
Funny thing–I just looked at the past couple of posts and I was thinking the same thing in post #44 as well. So I did a little flashback already…maybe let’s get back into the story. Back into the truck going…somewhere?
Beth assessed the situation in the truck. She would make a mental list. Lists make everything better.
1. Nick was in the front seat, hands gripped on the steering wheel. He was tense, but seemed resolved.
2. I am in the backseat. My ankle pain is still there and I’m noticing swelling. Great.
3. We aren’t going to the hospital. Where are we going?
4. I don’t know where my phone is. I need to find it.
Suddenly, the truck slowed and Nick took the right hand turn. Now Beth realized where they were going. To Nick’s house.
She tried to remember if he lived alone right now or still had a roommate. If he had a roommate, she would have someone who might be able to talk some sense into Nick and get her back home. Now Beth was wishing she paid more attention to town gossip.
The truck bumped along the dirt road leading up to Nick’s small farm. Compared to the city, the land he was on was huge. You couldn’t see a neighbor on either side. But out here, it was tiny. He couldn’t live off of the income of the land, so he had to find work elsewhere when he was able.
Nick’s golden retriever ran out to greet them, barking and wagging his tail. That seemed like a good sign to Beth…if Nick was able to keep a dog in good spirits, he couldn’t be too bad himself. Right?
Nick parked on the grass in the front of the house on the right side of the dirt road. Why did people do that out here? Just make a dirt driveway you can park in, Beth thought.
He opened the door, turned to Beth and said, “stay here.”
She nodded her head obediently, but her mind started racing to come up with a plan. She could use this time to look for her phone, sure, but that almost seemed a lost cause. How could she get out?
Beth waited for Nick to walk up the steps, golden dog following behind him and unlock the door to his house. He looked back at her and she tried to smile back like, “see you in a bit! I totally trust you,” but she wasn’t sure how convincing she could be right now. She was shaking, almost jumping out of her skin because she knew this was her chance to get away.
Nick stepped inside and let his dog in with him and they disappeared from sight. Okay, it was go time.
Beth dragged her injured ankle around the car, assessing her situation. The back doors seemed to be child locked. She wasn’t sure if she could maneuver herself into the front seat to open one of the front doors. She noticed the back doors had windows that rolled down. Like with a hand crank.
Beth remembered an old car she had, a mint green Plymouth Sundance, that had a crank to roll down the windows. The driver side window was broken though and if you tried to roll it down, the window would fall right into the door.
It seemed like the thing to do would be to roll down a window…but would she make it to the ground with the ability to get away? Or would she just hurt herself even further?
Even worse, Nick would become aware that she was trying to get away and things could escalate unnecessarily. Would he tie her up? Hurt her? What was his plan? He definitely seemed mad and on edge. Beth also considered his reputation, or at least what happened when he was in high school.
She had to try. Beth grabbed the handle and began to crank. It seemed like this window hadn’t been rolled down in ages, but Beth was determined. Little by little, the window came down. Her escape was closer with each turn of the handle.
About halfway through as she was checking the house to see if Nick was coming back, the crank suddenly came to a stop. Beth tugged and wiggled and banged on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
Beth remembered another car she had. One of the safety features it had in the backseat was that the windows would only come halfway down. Child safety. Shit.
Beth considered the size of her body, the opening in the window and the condition of her ankle. She pushed herself up and stuck her head out to see how far of a fall she would have to the ground. That is, if she could even squeeze herself out. Could she do a tuck and roll thing? If she was going out head first?
She had listened to survivor stories on podcasts before where women were able to get themselves out of crazy small windows because of the determination. Like a small bathroom window where police were puzzled as to how a human could even fit out of it.
In those situations though, the women had gone through serious trauma and torture and knew they would be killed if they didn’t escape.
Was this escape worth it? Beth was beginning to wonder.
Nick was still inside, which should have been a good thing for her escape, but what was he doing in there? There weren’t any other cars, so Beth’s hope of a rational roommate to calm him down were out the window.
Out the window. Ha. Could Beth get herself out of the window? Could she get herself out of yet another situation she put her in in this insane town?
She stuck her head out again, her arms, testing out the size of the opening. She could probably make it, but it would be a nose dive to the ground. Tuck and roll usually happened on your side, right? Or she could try to summersault out?
She hadn’t done a summersault since gymnastics club in junior high. Her best event was the balance beam where she would score second place every damn time. That might not help her here…
Could she scoot out sideways to land on her good foot? That might injure the good foot and then where would she be?
Before she could make a decision, she heard the squeaking of the screen door. Nick was on his way out.
To be continued!
