Kidnapped

Things Better Left Alone (Revised)

I breathed deeply through my nose and closed my eyes, trying to block out everything but the surrounding forest. An internal battle raged in my mind; disobedience or, for once, doing the right thing? I knew it was wrong and a part of me wished I didn't know any better just to avoid the moral dilemma I faced when I looked at her. She was beautiful, large where it counted, sparkling blue eyes, and full red lips. I didn't realize what my dad was doing when he asked me to pick her. He promised that we were just scouting, not hunting. I never would have picked her if I knew what my dad really had planned. The lusty feelings my dad felt when he looked at girls like her just weren't inside of me, even though I had often times tried to arouse those feelings in myself to avoid the sickness that came over me when I thought of what I had to do.

While I wasn't prepared to take from her the most private thing she possessed, fear of my father ripped my constitution in half. If I didn't do what he commanded, another demonstration would be in order. He didn't just torture the girls for fun.

I subconsciously fingered the bottom of my shirt, remembering session after session. It started with the shirt every time. Then the pants and everything else. Pain was so familiar to me, especially the kind my father used to break the human spirit, and I couldn't bring myself to inflict that type of agony on another person.

I bit back tears at the thought of how he used to be. Once upon a time he was my dad. The night everything changed, once buried under years of pain, surfaced and sucked me into a nightmarish reverie. My mother was on the couch reading a book. I was sitting on the floor playing my GameBoy when he stepped into the house. It was pouring rain outside and lightning flashed behind him, making him nothing but a silhouette for a moment. His hair was matted down from the rain and in his hands, under his jacket, he held a car battery. My mother looked up from her book and scowled.

"Another car part?" She sighed. "You're never going to get that stupid van to work if you bought an entirely new engine. All you ever do is break things."

I shifted uncomfortably and pulled the small GameBoy closer to my face. What my mother said was a continuation of the fight they had before my dad left to go to work. It seemed like the fighting never stopped. If it wasn't about how horrible my mother's cooking was, it was about the van, or about the house, or something that we couldn't afford. Earlier that day, my dad slammed the door to their bedroom and broke it. It's not like it was a sturdy door to begin with, the whole house was on the verge of falling apart, but my mother didn't take kindly to his attitude. He left for work with her screaming that she hoped he never came back. Things had been tense for a few months and my parents seemed ready to kill each other.

The smirk that had been on my dad's face vanished and he scowled back at her. "Maybe if I had some help around here that wouldn't happen."

My mom stiffened. She ruffled my hair and told me to go to my room. "Your father and I need to talk."

I nodded and hurried to the back of the house, just closing the door when my parents started yelling. I threw myself onto my bed and tried to get lost in my game. When that failed me, I looked around the room at my band posters and tried to play their music in my head. The shouts soon turned into screams and things crashed when my mom threw them at my dad.

"If you weren't out drinking all the time, it wouldn't be like this!" My mother screamed. "And when you get home, all you ever worry about is that stupid van! Day and night you work on it and when you aren't, then you're off drinking with your friends!"

"I work on that van so that we could have something to drive, instead of calling for rides or walking!" My dad roared back. "You of all people should appreciate that!"

"If you wouldn't blow all our money on booze and car parts, WE COULD BUY A NEW ONE!" Something glass shattered against the wall. "I'm going to my mothers and I'm taking Andrew with me. When you decide that you can be a suitable husband and father, you can come pick us up in whatever vehicle you choose."

"Don't you leave me, Emily!" Both of their voices came closer to my door and I hugged my pillow to my aching heart. If they invaded the sanctuary of my room I knew I would cry, which would only make the fight worse. My mom would blame my dad and vice versa.

"I would rather die than stay here with you and let my son follow in your drunken footsteps. We deserve better than you," she said coldly. There was a deadly silence; neither of my parents were coming closer anymore.

"You don't mean that." I could barely hear my dad's voice.

"I mean it more than when I said 'I do' at our wedding."

I shook my head to clear it of the memory.

Leave that alone.

"What are you going to do to me?" I had almost forgotten that Ashely was there. Her quiet voice trembled.

"I haven't decided yet," I told her coldly. "You be a good girl and let me think and maybe I won't slap you around as much." I felt stupid saying that to her. She already knew I couldn't hurt her. I sucked in another deep breath of the outside air.

My mind was made up.

I slowly closed the window. The girl trembled on the table, not only afraid, but also cold for her lack of clothes. I locked the door and retrieved her clothing.

"Here." I set them on her stomach and undid her restraints. She watched me carefully, fearful of my intentions. "Get dressed."

I felt sick. If I couldn't break her, someone else had to do it. It's not like he would be opposed to doing it anyway. My dad liked to start from scratch, which meant she had to be fully dressed and feel confident that fighting would save her. I turned away from her, ashamed and waited until the rustle of clothing stopped.

"I can't hurt you." I bit my lip. "If you do what he says and cry loud enough, he won't work on you for very long. It'll be over faster if you give up." I crossed to the door. "Don't run. You know what happens. Just wait here and he'll be up in a minute."

"Wait!" She made me face her.

She kissed me.

Her trembling lips were soft against mine. Time stopped and everything felt warm. It didn't matter if my dad was there, it didn't matter what was going on, what I was supposed to be doing, or even if I knew she was scared. Whatever was happening filled my chest with fire and ice. My heart ached and a phantom of connection reached out to her. This hidden piece of me that I had all but forgotten throbbed painfully. Her hand and touched my jawline for a brief moment before she stepped back.

"You're very brave," she said softly.

"Wh- what?" I stepped away from her, unable to process the sudden feelings she stirred inside of me. I wanted nothing more than to feel her warmth again.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me," she replied. "I know you're scared of your father- but you still haven't..." She trailed off, afraid of even mentioning it. She looked down and rubbed her arm.

Untilthat moment, I hadn't realized how truly beautiful she was...    

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