Chapter 29 #2
“Did she laugh at you? Tell her friends? I bet she told all her friends. I bet everyone knew. Big, bad hockey player Garret Fischer couldn’t get it up.
” I can see his jaw flexing in the glow of the lights, and I know the only thing preventing him from backhanding me again is the metal grate between us.
“I bet no one wanted to date you after that. God. How embarrassing. But you’re kind of a douchebag.
I’m sure you deserved it. I bet you were a total asshat before that even happened.
She was probably only dating you because you’re a hockey player anyway.
I doubt you’ve ever learned where the clitoris is. ”
He continues clenching his teeth as he hits the blinker, taking exit eighteen toward Lewis and Clark State Park at a higher speed than he should.
Inertia presses my back into the sidewall of the van, but then I’m slipping sideways, trying not to topple over, as he accelerates out of the turn.
With both my hands and feet zip-tied, there’s nothing I can do to brace myself. My right shoulder impacts the floor.
Pain flares down my arm, from my shoulder to my elbow, and all across my torso, overtaking every other sensation.
It feels like Garret’s kicked me in the ribs again as I slide toward the rear.
There’s a faint skittering sound—like a pebble rolling across asphalt.
Only I’ve stopped moving and I can’t figure out what’s making the noise.
Shit! My hands. My hands are empty, I realize.
I’m scanning the back of the van, but it’s dark.
I can’t see the dart, and the noise is gone.
Fear wraps itself around my chest, squeezing tight.
I have to find it. I need to have it in my hands before this van stops.
If I don’t, I’m dead. The tranquilizer dart was the backup plan.
The ‘In Case of Emergency, Break Glass’ plan. I don’t have another.
My lungs feel like they’re seizing. Where is it? Why can’t I see it?
Garret hits the brakes, and the blinker comes on, and I’m sliding toward the front.
Away from the dart, wherever it is. My hips and then my back hit the metal grate, abruptly stopping me.
The dart must be rolling around somewhere, but I can’t hear it above the blinker, which is filling my head with a hollow clicking noise that’s echoing louder than a drumbeat.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck! my brain is repeating, keeping time in the most unhelpful way possible.
Then the van is turning right, and something hits me in the face, bouncing off the bridge of my nose. The dart, the dart! I know I need to move to grab it, but the world has turned to visual static around me. By the time I lift my zip-tied hands to where I last felt it, it’s gone.
I shove myself upright, and my head swims at the change in position.
I need to find the dart. I need to keep my eyes focused on the floor, searching for it.
Instead, I’m glancing out the windshield, trying to determine how much time I have.
It’s like looking back in a race. It’s stupid, and I can’t stop myself from doing it.
Garret’s following a dark, two-lane road. It looks like there’s a parking lot ahead. I resume my internal scream of Fuckfuckfuckfuck! as I tear my eyes away from the windshield, raking them across the floor. I should see it. It should be easy. There’s nothing in here. But there’s no dart either.
Where is it? Where is it? Whereisit? WHERE—
There!
It’s trapped in the corner formed by the van’s wheel well and sidewall. About two feet away from me.
The van is slowing, and the dart shifts.
I throw my body sideways to grab it before it can vanish again.
Nausea rolls through me. I think I might throw up, and I’m not sure if it’s from having my face bashed into the dumpster, or the kick I took in the ribs, or my head bouncing across the asphalt of the parking lot, or being thrown around the van like a piece of flotsam.
It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters because my fingers are wrapped around the dart, and I’m not going to die tonight.
The van comes to a stop, rocking forward and then back before falling still.
I force myself up, through waves of agony, to look out the windshield, only to be met with Garret’s leering smile as he peers through the grate, studying me.
It doesn’t matter because the dart is in my hands, and I’m not going to die tonight.
“Enjoy the ride?” he asks, and I force my eyes past him to the parking lot.
It’s totally empty, and the night outside is pitch black. If I fuck this up, I’m as good as dead. Most likely, I’ll be left wishing I’d jammed the tranquilizer dart into my own thigh. I push the thoughts down, telling myself again that I’m not going to die tonight.
I should’ve stayed at Mark’s house. Leaving was stupid.
Assuming Garret would do what he was supposed to and show up to the ‘mandatory’ team meeting was even stupider.
He probably told them he wasn’t feeling well when they called.
He gets to get away with murdering me while everyone believes he’s home, sick in bed.
Part of me can’t believe I was that stupid, but I was so focused on Mark and the idea of my world with him falling apart that of course I was.
It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to die tonight.
Garret parks, and I force my attention back to the here and now as he exits the van. As soon as his door slams shut, I pop the Sharpie cap off the tranquilizer dart and carefully tuck the dart between my hands so that it’s hidden from sight.
“Get out,” Garret growls when he slides the door open.
I stay huddled against the van’s far wall. The thought of moving seems impossible. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Get out,” he repeats, the warning in his tone clear.
“No,” I say, shaking my head and taking my chances. If I can get him to throw me over his shoulder, he won’t even see the dart coming when I ram it into his back. Assuming I can keep it together long enough to avoid throwing up all over him. Or passing out.
I take a breath. I’m not going to die tonight, I tell myself resolutely.
“Now, Alyssa!”
“No.”
He leans into the van, reaching for my zip-tied feet, and I kick his hands away. Adrenaline floods through me as he steps in with a huff, grabbing for me, and I press myself further into the wall.
I’m not going to die tonight.
Then his hands are on my arms, and he’s yanking me to him.
I topple forward, unable to balance or fend him off, and he slings me over his shoulder.
The agony of my ribs compressing against his body steals my breath and sends stars swimming through my vision.
I’m upside down, and my head is below my heart.
The pressure in my head is building, nausea and vertigo melding together as the nosebleed threatens to reemerge, and I hold still so that he can get us out before that happens.
As soon as he steps out of the van, I flip the dart in my grip.
I’m tempted to stab it into his kidney, but I’m uncertain what kind of effect that would have on the drug’s absorption, so I ram it into his ass instead.
I’m not going to die tonight.
He yelps and drops me. I hit the ground with a hard thud, and the world goes black.