You'll Always Be Mine (18 page)

             
“There is no need to kid, Mr. Martin. A gasoline truck hit the car. Either they had already died from the crash or they were stuck in the car when the truck exploded.”

              I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to say and I couldn’t even say anything. Abby, my wife, my life was dead along with my son who was only two years old. He didn’t even have time to grow up and see the world.

              “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Martin.” the male voice responded. “We need you to come down to the local police station for your statement.”

              “Statement?” I questioned, still not fully understanding what was going on. “Here’s my statement; they were everything I had. And now, I’ll never get them back. Good day.” I hung up the phone almost instantly and threw it against the nearby wall. I screamed and screamed until I couldn’t scream anymore. My body fell to the ground and I felt momentarily paralyzed as tears formed in my eyes and fell down my cheeks.

▪▪▪▪▪

              A year later, I still haven’t moved on over Abby and Trevor’s tragic death. But I somehow managed to cope in some way. I spent my time fixing up the house that Abby and I bought. I had nothing better to do with my time so I ended up furnishing the whole house in about six months’ time. I knew that Abby would have loved it.

              I sat on a stool at the local bar and stared blankly at the glass cup set in front of me. I’ve been drinking a lot more, now. It numbed the pain.

              A new figure joined me on the bar stool beside me and began to speak to the bartender. “Bailey’s on the rocks, please.” her dainty voice said.

              The bartender did not hesitate in reaching to the back of the bar and grabbing a bottle of the alcoholic liquid. I turned my head to her, catching a glimpse of her features. She had long brunette hair that cascaded in waves down her back and big bright blue eyes that took me away instantly. She looked just like Abby.

              She must have sensed my stare because she turned to me and offered a friendly smile. “Hello there,”

              “Hello,”

              “You come here often?” she asked me.

              “Sometimes,” I shrugged.

              “My name is Paisley,” she introduced, holding out her hand. “And yours?”

              “Jacob.”
 

             
“So Jacob, you want to get out of here?” she asked, her perfectly plucked eyebrows rising. “We can go back to my place and do a little something.”

              An idea erupted from the back of my mind and a smile stretched across my face. “How about we go to my place?”

CHAPTER
TWENTY THREE; LIZA

             
I woke up with a hazy feeling coming over me. I felt like I had slept for days, possibly even months. My head hung low, vaguely aching my neck. I slowly brought my head to face ahead and noticed I was still in the cellar. The hard belts were still wrapped around my wrists and I was still sitting in this cold metal chair.

              Sighing, I laid my head back. Let’s face it; I was already dead. I guess I always knew what my fate would be but after waiting so long for my death to come, I have learned to accept it.

              I must have stayed sitting there for a few minutes before I snapped my eyes open and glanced around the room. Days seemed to pass this way. I would wake, look around, and go back to sleep. Jacob would occasionally bring me food, touch my cheek, try to comfort me, but I was uncooperative. I refused to give that monster any satisfaction.

              My eyes lazily drifted to a scalpel that sat on the steel table ahead of me. Eyeing it for a little longer than necessary, I realized that it had not always been there. If it had, I would have noticed. I kicked my foot out in attempt to bring the table closer to me but I was too weak. After a few more tries, I almost gave up. Then I remembered what would happen if I didn’t at least try to get out of here.

              Becoming more confident with adrenaline running through my veins, I leaned forward as much as the restraints would let me and kicked my legs out, hooking my feet underneath the desk and tugging it closer. It moved an inch or so which I thought was great process so I did it again. And again. I kept pulling the desk closer until it was right in front of me and the scalpel was in plain sight.

              Leaning forward, I attempted to grab the medical tool with my teeth, only to have it fall onto my lap. I shifted in my seat, causing the scalpel to slide to my left thigh. Then, I tried with all my might to reach for the scalpel with my left hand, which was difficult considering my wrists were tied down, but I managed. Once the tool was in my hand, I tried extra carefully to not let it drop as I rotated the sharp end to face the belts wrapped around my wrists. Trying to keep a steady hold of the tool, I sawed my way through the first belt.

              My wrist instantly felt more relieved. I worked my way through the second belt and then the third. Finally, my left hand was free. Finishing off the job, I freed my right hand and then my waist. I shot up out of the chair, feeling a little dizzy at first. It had been a long time since I stood upright. Once I got a hold of myself, I rushed towards the door, only to find out that it was locked shut. Of course. What part of me thought that it would actually be unlocked?

              Instead, I searched around the room for a weapon. So that when he came back, I would kill him and make a run for it. Before, the thought of killing someone would make me cringe. Now, I was all for it.

              As I searched for a weapon, I came across a book that seemed to be old and weary. It was buried beneath a bunch of dirty washcloths. I reached for the book and opened it up, surprised to see that it was actually a photo album. The first picture I saw was a picture of a woman. She looked incredibly young like around my age but she was stunning.

              She had pin-straight brown long locks that fell over her shoulders and down her back. Her bright blue eyes stared back at me with such intensity. Like she knew every secret that I had. Her skin was flawless. A porcelain face and rosy pink lips that spread across her face into a smile. She was no doubt, beautiful.

              The next picture was a picture of the same girl. Only this time, she was standing next to a man. He seemed older by a few years but still young. His arms wrapped around her waist and he was looking at her as she looked at the camera. He was obviously in love. I flipped the page and there were more pictures of the two of them together. A closer look at the male and I saw that it was Jacob. He looked the same, physically but he looked different in his whole demeanor. He was more open and friendly like.

              I flipped through the photo album quickly. There were pictures of the two at their wedding. There were a few pictures of the girl with a baby bump and then there were pictures of the couple and a little boy. They looked like the perfect family. This made me wonder what happened to the wife and kid.

              I shut the photo album and placed it back where I found it. Continuing my search, I moved around the room. I almost stopped in my tracks when I walked past a small mirror that hung on the wall. I had not seen my reflection for a few days and looking at the mirror now, I looked just like the girl in the photo album. With the exception of the bags underneath my eyes and the new scrapes and bruises. I saw the resemblance between Jacob’s wife and I.

              I thought back to Ellen McHannon, my classmate. Now that I think about it, she resembled Jacob’s wife as well. And all the other girls that were killed, they were all blue-eyed brunettes. Now it all made sense.

              I don’t know what happened to his wife or his kid but whatever happened must have been tragic because he was taking girls who looked like his wife in hopes of having her back and recreating his son.

              Just as the light bulb clicked in my head, I heard noises from the other side of the door. Rushing to find a weapon, I dived onto the floor and searched through a bunch of useless objects. My heart almost dropped when I saw a butcher knife in the corner of the room, wedged between the cracks of a table. I pulled at the handle of the knife, desperately wanting to get it out. My eyes snapped to the door just as it opened and there stood Jacob.

              He glanced over to me for a second then at the chair I was once in. “Elizabeth,” he shook his head in disbelief, “How did you manage to get out?”

              I pressed my back against the wall and swallowed a lump in my throat. “Jacob,” I croaked out. “I know what happened,”

              He cocked his head to the side as he waltzed over to the table where all his medical tools were. I would have used one of those tools on him but none of them were good enough to inflict much damage. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

              “You know what,” I spat out, “I know why you kidnapped me and Ellen and all those other girls. I know,”

              “Do you?” he questioned, bringing his gaze to mine. “Why did I kidnap you, Elizabeth?”

              “Your wife,” I said simply, “Something happened to her and your son.”

              He narrowed his eyes slightly. Soon, his eyes were on the photo album that I had picked up earlier. He snapped his gaze back to mine and smiled, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Elizabeth.”

              “I don’t?” I questioned, “I saw the pictures, Jacob! I saw you with her! You looked so happy and in love and I don’t see that now. Something happened to her, what happened?”

              “Quit talking, Abby!” he shouted, “I always hated that about you. Always talking. You never know when to shut up.”

              I pressed my lips into a thin line. He had just called me Abby.  “Abby?” I asked, “Was that her name?” He grew silent. His hands grazed over one of the sharper medical tools and he stood there, watching. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t even look at me. “Jacob, it’s okay. It’s okay to hurt. Everyone hurts from time to time.” I reached behind of me and tried to pull out the knife from the wood. Even if I felt the tiniest bit sympathetic for this guy, he killed a bunch of people.

              He flickered his eyes over to mine. “What do you know about hurt? Your life is so perfect. You’ve got friends. You have a caring brother and you even have a boyfriend who loves you! I see it in his eyes.”

              “You think my life is perfect?” I questioned him, raising my voice. “My parents died when I was young. I had to grow up without parents! The only way to cope with it was to eat. I ate until I couldn’t eat anymore. And you know what I did after that? I kept eating. People bullied me because I was fat! I never told my ‘caring’ brother because he was always working! I barely saw him.” I explained briefly. “But you know what? I dealt with the pain because everyone hurts! I turned my life around and here I am today, still standing. I didn’t kill people because of what happened!”

              His eyes grew cold and hard. “She was all I had. Without her, I was nothing. So I tried to bring her back.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his infamous switchblade. “But I’m sorry to say that you’re not the one.” Before I even had time to comprehend what was happening, he lunged forward.

              With haste, I tugged on the butcher knife. He noticed this and slapped my cheek with the back of his hand. He grabbed a hold of my neck and pulled me up to my feet, pressing me against the wall. “I really wish I didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, “But I can’t set you free. I’m going to kill you and then bring you back to your family so they can see you in a peaceful state.”