《Running with His Child》Chapter 8
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The feeling of a van coming to a halt jolts me awake from my restless slumber. My arms and legs were tied tight enough to keep them limp. My eyes flutter open slowly, taking in the new scenery: the floor of the van was dusty, and the whole area was almost pitch black. The only light source came from a barred window, about the size of a Hershey bar. Gosh, why did I compare this crusty van window to a delicious chocolate bar? The box-like window created a bead of light that reflected off the metal of the back wall.
As I observed the scene, my senses filled with panic. It didn't take long for me to realize that this meant I'd never see my precious Owen again. While trying to break out of the rope, my whole body felt numb. It was no use to continue. I couldn't even begin to imagine what would become of me. Kyle probably sent me off to be viciously murdered, just like his other victims. Or, maybe, he has other things in store.
My breath hitched, tears sprung up from my eyes as I heard the car door slam. The sound of feet walking on gravel echoed from right outside. Low, murmured voices could be heard on the side of the vehicle. It seemed two men had engaged in a conversation as my body was forced to lay here and wait for my doom.
The tears were uncontrollable, though; I thought about my Owen, Matilda and Jason. Oh how I'd miss them... As long as Owen was safe, nothing could break me down. Whatever it takes, my arms will hold my son again, and this time, it'll be for good. Nothing will tear us apart again.
One of the van doors opens, revealing a tanned, muscled man in all black. From my view, I barely could see his face. He'd pull at my legs, sliding me out of the vehicle like a dog. The man would drop my numb body onto the hard gravel behind the van and close the doors. My head would snap around, taking in the location I was delivered to. We were in front of a large mansion, with all that fountain shit and sculptures. Around the property, there looked to be deep woods, trees encircled the home completely. A large gate was placed down a long road of this gravel.
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Another man, dressed the same way but paler than a ghost, lifted me off my ass, throwing my light body over his shoulder. The two laughed while I let silent tears fall from my eyes and onto the man's shirt. The cold AC was on full blast, sending shivers down my spine as we entered the home. I watched the white-tiled flooring as they carried me up about two flights of stairs. They dropped me carelessly on the hard wood of a room, closing the door and turning the lock.
The bedroom would be almost the size of my living room, kitchen and dining room combined. Small, detailed windows lined two walls of the room, flooding in a surplus of natural light. On the right wall, two doors were placed on it, which I assumed to be a bathroom and closet. Looking around in awe, my eyes scanned the scene before me. The room was nicer than the one given to me when staying with Matilda and Jason. It was clear that Kyle was somehow richer. The furniture just looked utterly expensive. The bed frame had intricate designs up the poles and the sheets were made from a fine silk. There was a dresser opposite of the bed, it was painted white, a large mirror hanging over it.
Even though all of this luxury was incredible, I couldn't help but hate it. Being in the home of a criminal, with my son probably thousands of miles away, took a huge toll on me. After finishing my glances around the bedroom, my body found it's way to it's furthest corner. My back slumped against it, sliding down to the floor, where I brought my knees to my chest and cried. There is no such thing as escape this time, almost certainly. My precious child will grow up in the hands of others, he'd forget about me within the next five years. I can't even picture him right now... My brain is too clouded with my fears and tears. My body stays in this position through the night, the tears never stopping. I had not slept.
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The sun was up, the light pouring through the windows of the room. My voice was gone, the sobs that rang all night wore it out. My eyes were still wet when the door's lock clicked, and someone walked in. I didn't even bother looking up. My head stayed against my knees, everything in me feeling so empty.
The person's heavy footsteps walked towards me, stopping about a foot away from my body. At this point, it was clear the intruder was a man. He stood in front of me so close, all I could hear was his heavy breathing. "Look at me." The man's familiar voice sounded, it wasn't too angry, but it was no where near calm. My head remained down, I couldn't find the will to lift it. Whoever this man is will not see me cry. "Look. At. Me." He growls, his voice raising a bit. By now, the thought of resisting was stupid. It just postponed my inevitable death and, to be honest, I just wanted it over with. My head raises, revealing my puffy, red cheeks and eyes.
The man turned out to be the devil himself, Kyle. My stomach turned, I almost threw up right then and there. All these years of precautions went to waste, and now, my life was in the hands of the man most hated in my heart. He smirked at me, squatting to my level. He looked almost the same, well- now he had a clean cut of stubble, and his face looked more mature. Kyle was still as handsome as when we met. Somehow though, his eyes looked colder. "Welcome Home."
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