“I don’t have it, man. I need more time,” Evan begged, his voice strained.
“You’ve had time. Plenty of time. Why should we give you more?” Den asked him, his voice strangely calm.
“I can get the money, I swear. Look, I just need one more week.” His voice was pleading, and anxiety rushed through me. I’d never heard him like this before. Whatever mess he’d gotten himself into was serious. He was in trouble. The room fell silent, and I strained to hear the rest of the conversation.
“You’ve got seven days. Last chance, Evan, else we take the girl,” Den told him. I felt my knees buckle at his words and my breathing became labored. Evan obviously didn’t have the money to pay them. How was he going to get it in seven days? I heard the door to the living room open and the two men walked out followed by Evan. I couldn’t make my legs move, and I was paralyzed to the spot as all three turned to look at me in the hallway. The guy whose name I didn’t know grinned at me, an evil glint in his dark eyes.
“I’ve got a feeling we’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,” he said, before laughing and heading for the door. Den followed without saying a word. As the door swung shut behind them I dropped to the floor.
“Evan, what’s going on?” I whispered, lifting my eyes to his. I shrank back when I saw the look on his face.
“Why did you open the fucking door, Quinn?” he growled, taking a step toward me.
“I… I,” I stuttered, taken aback by his tone.
“I told you to never open the door! Now look what you’ve gone and done. They’ll be back, and I don’t have the money to pay them!” he yelled, dragging me up off the floor by my hair. He slapped me around the face and I gasped, my hand flying to my burning cheek. My lip began to sting from where his ring must have caught me, and I tasted blood. My eyes were wide and scared. Something was different with him; his eyes held an evilness I’d never seen before. I winced as he pulled harder on my hair, slamming my head against the wall. “It’s your fault I’m in this mess. I guess it’s only right I use you as payment… you’re my way out of this shit,” he sneered. I tried to shake my head, but his hand was gripping my hair too tightly.
“What’s my fault?” I asked him in a shaky voice, my head spinning as a sick feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.
“Who do you think paid for your mom’s medical bills? And yours for that matter. Do you really think the lousy insurance would cover the months of dialysis and both surgeries?” he spat out.
“What?” I asked, not taking in what he was saying. “The insurance didn’t cover Mom’s medical bills?”
“No, you stupid bitch! I had to borrow the money. No bank was going to lend me any, so I had to go to those scum… now they want their money, or you. I don’t have the money, Quinn, but I do have you.”
“No, please,” I whimpered.
“There’s no other way,” he said, his voice showing no remorse. My head was pounding from where he had slammed it into the wall, and I couldn’t think straight. “Where’s your phone?” he asked, pulling on my hair again. When I didn’t answer he dragged me upstairs, my legs stumbling up the steps in an attempt to keep up with him.
“Evan, please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. Ignoring me, he opened my bedroom door, throwing me inside. I crashed into the dresser before landing heavily on the wooden floor; wincing as pain shot up my side. I saw him looking around, his eyes falling on my phone on the nightstand. He crossed the room and snatched it up.
“Don’t move,” he growled at me as he stalked out of the room, my door closing behind him. Shocked by what had just happened, I remained sitting on the floor, sobbing as I rubbed my sore cheek. I contemplated standing up to go sit on the bed, but he’d told me not to move, and I was too terrified to disobey him. Within a few minutes I heard footsteps in the hall. I scooted backward against the bed in a futile attempt to try to protect myself. The door didn’t open though. I just heard a key turn in the lock on the door before hearing him walk away. Seeing red, I scrambled up from where I was cowering, ignoring the pain that ripped through my side.
“You can’t lock me in here!” I screamed, banging my fists on the door. “Let me out, Evan!” I hammered on the door until my hands were throbbing. Realizing he wasn’t going to return, I accepted defeat and sat on the edge of the bed. It was then I knew I had to try to get away. Those guys were returning in seven days. I didn’t want to be here when they did.
I hardly saw Evan the next few days. He’d bring me food when he remembered, and fortunately I had a bathroom off my bedroom. He was out most of the time which meant I had time to try to pick the lock. Initially, I’d thought I might be able to climb through the window, but he’d returned to my room a few hours after first locking me in and locked the window as well. I was trapped and terrified the men would come back before I was able to get away. I packed as much as I could carry in my backpack and hid it in the closet. Digging under my bed, I reached for the box that held any spare cash I had managed to save from the grocery shopping money. I quickly counted it and sighed. Although I had been saving for a while, the two hundred and fifty-eight dollars I had wouldn’t last me long. I’d manage though, as long as I was away from here. With no friends and only memories of my mom, I had nothing to keep me here. I was going to go as far away from here as I could get.
So here I was, sitting in the bus station in Westwood. My leg bounced up and down as I scanned the building, praying that Evan hadn’t returned home and found I’d gone. I’d paid for a ticket to New York City. From there I planned to catch a bus to Marble Falls
in Texas. I’d had a friend in fourth grade who had moved to Westwood from Marble Falls. It had sounded like a great place to live, and it seemed as good a place as any to escape to. I could only hope and pray that it would be far enough from my stepfather and that I’d never have to see him or those men again.
Quinn
The journey to Marble Falls took forever, with numerous stops along the way. I was always nervous when we stopped, half expecting Evan to show up and haul me back home. He would have no idea where I’d gone, but I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder. I guess I would be looking over my shoulder for a while. I couldn’t ever imagine feeling safe again.
My banged-up face had gotten me some sympathetic looks on the bus ride. Evan had hit me hard enough to blacken my eye and bruise my cheek. My lip was also swollen from where it had split. I looked a mess. My side was still painful from where he’d thrown me against the dresser. I wondered if I’d bruised a rib, on top of the broken ones I’d suffered previously. It was painful to breathe on occasion, and I had to remember to carry my backpack on the opposite shoulder, or else the pain created waves of nausea and a cold sweat would break out sporadically along my neck. Sitting at the back of the Greyhound bus, I downed painkillers to dull the stabbing pain in my side. Keeping myself to myself, I read one of the books I’d managed to bring along with me.
As I stepped off the bus in Marble Falls, I looked around. The paranoid recesses of my mind had my eyes flitting up and down the street, searching for Evan. I blinked into the fading sunlight and shook my head. He wasn’t here. Of course, he wasn’t. It was just a small southern town, hundreds of miles from Westwood.
The stop was in the center of the town where stores and places to eat lined the street I was on. It was late afternoon and some of the stores had already closed. Gingerly slipping my backpack over my shoulder, I walked up the sidewalk to a coffee shop, desperate for a decent cup of coffee. My body ached from spending over two days on the bus, and to say that I was tired would have been an understatement. Sitting in the back of the coffee shop, I slipped my hands around the hot mug of coffee. Bringing it to my lips, I took a sip. Now that I was here, I had no idea what I was going to do. I placed my mug on the table in front of me and dug in my backpack for my wallet, quickly counting the money I had left. There was just under a hundred dollars. I needed a job, and fast.
Making my way back to the counter, I asked the girl serving if they were looking to take anyone on. She looked at my bruised face and disheveled appearance and shook her head.
“There are plenty of bars you could try,” she replied, looking me up and down again.
“I’m not old enough to work in a bar, but thanks anyway.” She shrugged and moved to serve the person behind me. Sighing, I made my way back to the booth I had been sitting in and finished my coffee. I didn’t have enough money for a motel. What little bit I had left I needed to keep for food. Thinking of food made my stomach rumble. As I left the coffee shop, I noticed a grocery store across the road. Heading inside, I trawled the aisles looking for something that would fill me up but would still be good to eat tomorrow. Deciding on crackers, sliced cheese, and a large bottle of water, I made my way to the cashier.
“You okay there, honey?” the cashier asked me as I placed my items on the belt. She smiled sympathetically as my eyes met hers. I gave her a small nod of the head before I self-consciously touched my hand to my bruised cheek. “Well, I hope whoever did that to you is getting what they deserve.” Her eyes dropped to where my hand was.