Searching For Her

Chapter Nineteen

I stayed on the ground, crying. Crying for being free. Crying for my babies. Crying for the abuse he put me through. I had killed him. I'm a killer now. I smothered him in his sleep. What have I done?

I gathered my strength, eventually, and looted through his pockets. There was a wallet in his back pocket. I pulled it out and looked through it. Mainly all there was was some cash and his license. My gaze landed on the key ring and I snatched it off his belt.

I pulled myself off the ground and stumbled to the front door, opening it slowly. The fall air filled my lungs and I stepped out into the growing morning. I stared at the sky, tears streaming down my cheeks, as the sun started coming up. I was finally free but I couldn't leave yet. I need to be prepared.

I turned around and looked around the house in a different light. I had been held in this house for two years. I was beaten and abused and raped. I could just leave right now and never turn back. My legs ached for me to just run away, to get as far away from this place as possible. I can't though. I need to find Poppy.

I walked around the property as the sun climbed up into the sky. I looked everywhere that my body could make it through. I couldn't find her. I wrung my hands together, gripping onto her blanket, before I spotted the big tree in the backyard.

I walked over to it slowly. The leaves danced down from the sky as the wind brushed through the trees limbs. I stood at the trunk of it. There in front of it was a small patch of disturbed earth. I fell to my knees and touched the dirt. Tears streamed down my cheeks but I smiled.

"We both made it, huh?"

I sat there with her and watched the sun rise above the tall trees. I took a deep, breath before I got up from the ground. Chris always talked about going somewhere. That must be where he gets the food and alcohol. I can't just walk though.

The garage. I stared at it, hopeful. He must have a vehicle. My feet ached at the gravel digging into my barefeet but I trudged on until I made it to the door. I fumbled with the keys trying to find the right one. Once inside I brushed my hands along the wall trying to find a switch. The lights flickered on and my eyes adjusted to the sudden light.

My heart sank deep into the pit of my stomach. A metal table sat in the first empty spot of the garage. Leather straps lied limp atop of the shining hunk of metal. Blood stained and crusted the edges of it. Was this were he was actually leaving for?

Vomit rose up into my throat. I need to leave. I don't have time to ponder on what else he's been doing. He's dead and I need to get home.

I walked around the table, pushing and stumbling over tool carts, before I made my way to a covered object. I tugged at the tarp and relaxed at the sight of a car. A bronze minivan.

I pushed the tarp out of the way before I rounded around to the drivers side door. The license plate had Florida plates. I glanced at the workbench behind the van. More license plates littered the table.

My fingers worked through the rounding of keys, unlocking the door and getting inside. I shoved the key in and prayed. Please work. Please work. The engine purred alive and I sighed.

There was no map inside or anything to tell of where I was. In defeat, I put the seatbelt on and pushed the button for the garage door to open. I shifted gears into drive and crept down the driveway. My eyes glanced constantly at the open door waiting for him to come storming out.

Nothing. Peacefully, I crept down the driveway. The gravel strip seemed to go on for quite some time so I made my way carefully. I finally relaxed seeing a paved road. I glanced back and forth. Either way I went I'd end up somewhere. I chose to go left.

I drove and drove. Mostly along the way were just trees surrounding the winding road. Along the way I'd spot the odd house or two. They were somewhat like his; shrouded in the woods. The time on the radio said that it was seven twenty-three A.M. My stomach growled but I ignored it. I need to get home but where even was home?

I was starting to give up. My surroundings were just trees and more trees and I was starving. I glanced at the time, eleven o'clock on the dot. It should be lunch time now, right? I stopped at a four-way and noticed a gas station up ahead.

I swung into the parking lot. I dug the cash out from Poppy's blanket and heaved myself out of the car. The air conditioning made me shiver as it bared down on me. People strolled around looking through the isles for whatever they wanted.

A plump woman and her two fussy kids argued at the slushie station. I stared at her obviously pregnant belly as she calmed her children down. Envy crawled under my skin.

I made myself down an isle and stared at the deli section. There were packaged sandwiches and bottles of water. I quickly counted my cash and did the math in my head. The van would also be needing some gas too. I swallowed and clenched the wad of cash.

I grabbed a plain ham sub and a bottle of water. There was a line at the counter. I made my way up to the cashier and put my items up. The lady rang everything up. She was very pretty. Large, dangling earrings were in her ears and matched the purple in her dyed hair. An assortment of rings dazzled her fingers with her glossy black acrillic nails.

"That'll be five dollars and sixty-six cents, ma'am."

I pushed the cash towards her. She picked it up and counted. She pushed in the amount and she handed me my change back. I gathered it all up into my sweaty palms as she beckoned the next customer up.

I walked out to the van and ate. I turned the van on and watched the gas guage move. It was halfway full. Deciding that I should be fine I got out and went to the bathroom on the outside of the store. When I got out I stared across the road. Was that a police station? My heart surged.

I flew into the van and scuttled out of the parking lot to the station. I must be in some small town. I parked next to the line of cop cars. The building was small maybe a cop shop?

I left the change in the van and grabbed the water bottle and blanket. It was eerie inside. The walls were so bland and the tiled floor was dirty. The air smelled like stale coffee and B.O.

The receptionist was a heavy set man. His hair was buzzed to his scalp, with some balding, but his brows were bushy and low as he stared at something on the desk in front of him. I hesitantly approached.

He glanced up and pushed away whatever he was doing. He licked his finger and picked up a singel sheet of paper and a pen. He stared at me with a fake smile on his lips.

"What can I do for ya?"

I didn't know how to answer. I just stood there staring at him. He stared back, growing annoyed.

"Ma'am?"

I cleared my throat and wrung my hands together.

"I'd like to talk to a — a cop?"

Exasperated, the receptionist sighed.

"Gonna need more than that sweetheart,"

Seeing the confusion and stress on my face he eventually lightened up.

"Let's start with your name. What's your name, ma'am?"

"Karmen Torres."

The pen cut short on writing my name. He glanced up at me and then on something on his desk. His dark eyes flicking back and forth. He licked his plump lips and tried to compose himself as sweat dripped down his flushing face.

"Hold on. I'll go get someone for you to talk with."

In a flash he was out of the chair and fumbling to an office area behind the desk. There was a window with closed blinds. Suddenly, I saw them crack open to stare. I shifted uncomfortably.