Won't Let Go Read online

  The constraints on my right wrist are almost free. I twist and turn it, pulling, praying the last bit will loosen enough to break free.

  “Deal with it? Allison, there’s a girl attached to our dining room chair. With duct tape. How do you plan on dealing with this?”

  I decide it’s time for me to speak up. They’re just being so...so freaking insane. “Um. Can I go now? Danielle, could you let me go? Please.”

  Her hands start working on the tape again, “She’s right. She should go. I’m letting her go.”

  Allison springs forward and grabs Danielle’s hands, “No! No, she can’t go. She’ll—she’ll tell!”

  The work on my tape stops again.

  “She’ll tell someone you taped her to a chair? God I hope so. ’Cause if this is some high school prank, it’s sick. This is going too far.”

  Prank? She thinks this is a prank? Are you kidding me! What is wrong with this town?

  “This isn’t a prank, Danielle, please—” I say.

  “Shut up, Alex. Just shut up. You win, okay? You can go. We’ll let you go.”

  I should shut my mouth, I should let them untie me, give me an icepack for my face and go about my life. Of course, I can’t do that. Not when innocents are suffering. Not when Allison’s suffering. Because I know, I swear she is. She needs my help, maybe even Danielle does, just as much as Embry and Elliot.

  “Danielle...” I say.

  Allison’s eyes grow wide. She might have said something, threatening even, but I choose to ignore it, to not listen and continue.

  This needs to be said. “Danielle,” I say again to get her attention. She looks up at me—I think she’s wondering why I say her name like I know her. The truth is I feel like I kind of do. There’s something about being taped to a chair that changes you. “Your father tried to kill Embry Winston,” I spit out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  If eyes could literally pop out of their sockets, well I think Danielle’s just about do. They are wide and round like big brown orbs. Her mouth hangs open with what I assume is shock.

  Allison, on the other hand, has a similar expression, only hers isn’t quite shock. I’d say she’s seconds away from scooping up the knife and stabbing me through the heart with it.

  “No, no.” Danielle shakes her head. “Elliot did, he’s in jail—they caught him—he confessed.”

  “Do you honestly believe that?” I ask, almost pleading.

  Grabbing her sister by the shoulders, Allison turns Danielle, forcing her to look her in the face. “Don’t listen to her—she—she’s lying.”

  I can see them both struggling. Allison, trying to cover up her father’s mistakes, Danielle, trying to believe her father’s not the monster I’m sure she knows him to be.

  “He—he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Why—” Danielle looks away as her brown eyes glisten with tears.

  “Danielle, he didn’t, she—she’s crazy. Daddy would never hurt us.” It’s a statement full of emptiness. I can see right through it. Allison knows it’s not true even though she spoke the words.

  I just hope Danielle does too.

  Danielle covers her mouth. “Oh my God.”

  I clear my throat. I haven’t forgotten I’m still taped to a chair. “Danielle, please, let me go. Your father needs help. You need help. And I can help you.”

  Allison lets out a shrill, piercing laugh. “And how do you think you can help us?”

  “I have—proof. I can help the both of you.” I single out Danielle. She seems to be the weaker of the two, and yet the smarter. “Just let me go and I’ll explain everything. Just trust me.”

  Swiping the tears away, Danielle raises her hands to the tape and pulls at it again, freeing my hands.

  I twist my wrists. They’re sore from being held tight against the chair for such a long time. The bones click with each revolution. Being bound has also left the skin red, raw, and irritated.

  Tugging against the restraints didn’t help. At least it’s just red and will fade quickly. Bruises—bruises would be harder to hide. But who am I kidding? I’ve no doubt got two shiners, swollen, and as purple as a ripe summer plum. That’s going to be a little harder to cover up.

  As Danielle pulls the last bit of tape free from my bound ankles, I kick up from the chair, fast and swift. Surprised, Danielle gives a yelp. Allison, sharp and quick, doesn’t miss a beat. She’s suddenly in my face, anger rolling off of her in thick waves.

  I hold up my hands in surrender. “Hey, easy there. I’m not running.” Not yet, at least.

  “Then sit back down.” Allison pokes a finger into my chest.

  It’s not a question or a suggestion. It’s an order, but since she’s closest to the only weapon present, I do as she says. My butt hits the seat so fast it thuds against the worn wood. My legs protest, aching as I resume the same, uncomfortable position I’ve spent the last, how many hours in.

  Clearing her throat, Danielle speaks. It’s soft, quiet, child-like, “Tell me—everything. I—I want to know everything.”

  Some of the facts are still a little muddled, but I waste no time explaining what I know, leaving out, of course, the part about Embry and how he still walks this earth, while his body lies motionless in a hospital bed.

  It only takes a few minutes—not long to explain that Danielle’s father thought he was doing the right thing. The start was from the upset of having a daughter so young bearing a child. It got him angry. Things were only made worse when Embry proclaimed he wanted nothing further to do with Danielle, or the child growing in her womb. That’s what pushed him over the edge. He felt it a father’s duty to eliminate the boy who’d leave a pregnant girl to fend for herself.

  Danielle shakes as she sobs.

  “He—he tried to kill Embry? But why? That story, that’s not what happened!” she wails.

  I’m taken back. “What do you mean that’s not what happened—” My throat feels dry, again. I swallow, hoping to relieve the scratchy parched feeling. Am I the crazy one? Did I have things wrong the whole time? No. No, he confessed, sort of.

  “That’s not what happened. Embry—he didn’t tell me he didn’t want the baby...” Danielle shakes her head back and forth as tears stream down her cheeks.

  Scooting forward in the chair, I reach out and place a hand on Danielle’s shoulder. Her glistening eyes meet mine. “What—what did Embry say to you then, what happened that day?”

  Danielle sniffles. “I was still in high school, people just don’t have—you don’t have—I never wanted it.”

  My eyes grow wide. “Wait, what? You didn’t...”

  “I—I was the one who said I wanted nothing to do with it—Embry wanted to keep it. He figured it would be a way to turn his—” She takes a deep breath and slowly whistles it through her lips. Tears still dampen her skin, but she seems to be controlling them—for now. “He thought it would help turn his life around. He wanted to be there for me, and for our baby. But I wouldn’t listen. I had made up my mind already. I didn’t want to be a teenage mother.”

  Okay, I’m totally confused. If she was the one who didn’t want to keep the baby, then why does every one think the opposite? “I don’t understand then. I mean, why would...? This just doesn’t make sense.” I close my eyes.

  “I heard the rumors after. But who would start them, and why. To think—”

  Allison breaks her silence. “I’m still not seeing the proof you say you have. Sounds like this is some wild story you’ve concocted. Is that why you moved here, to become little miss detective?”

  I roll my eyes. “Your father confessed. He—he told me he did it.” Or at least he almost did.

  A grin plays on Allison’s lips. “So really, you have nothing. Because unless you’re wired, which I know you aren’t, how can you prove that he—” she pauses, giving Danielle a quick glance, “bashed Elliot over the head, shoved him into the car, stole it with Elliot in it, then ran Embry over and managed to escape. There sure seems to be a lot of holes. Es
pecially if what Danielle said is true and she never had any intention of keeping the baby. This seems really convoluted and all because Danielle got herself knocked up because she’s dumb?”

  Danielle’s head shoots up. “I’m not dumb!”

  “Oh, come on. Getting pregnant in high school? Of course that’s dumb, Danielle. That’s idiotic.”

  Raising her hands in frustration, Danielle says, “I was in love! And it was an accident!”

  Allison clucks her tongue, as if too dignified to respond to such a stupid comment.

  I huff with irritation. “Danielle, it’s okay, accidents happen. But the truth is your father’s behind all this. I know he is. He’s the one who did the wrong thing here.”

  “No, I think if anyone is in the wrong here, it’s you.” Allison points her finger in my face again, waving it around back and forth. “You’re just trying to tear a family apart with this tortuous story. Hell, I don’t even know how you got involved. In fact, answer me this, how did you get involved?

  Now that’s a question I didn’t think would come up. I thought I might get away with telling the story and seeing their father put behind bars, and not have to explain how I got involved. How do I explain how I got involved, without telling Embry’s secret? I can’t.

  Pushing off the floor, Danielle gets up. She paces around the small shag rug, fingers in her mouth, chewing them in agitation. “What does it matter Allison? The truth’s out. I—I believe her.”

  “You do not! Don’t say that.”

  Danielle replies, “She was taped to a fucking chair, in our basement! How the hell do you explain that one, Allison?”

  Allison is at a loss for words. She can’t explain that without admitting she knew, all along, what her father had done.

  “Well, I’ve given you everything you asked for. It’s time I get going...”

  Suddenly the room is silent. Danielle stops her pacing, stops the nail chewing, and stands rigid on the carpet. Allison, still poised inches away from me, stares with cold, dark eyes.

  “And what are you going to do?” Allison and Danielle say almost simultaneously.

  I gulp in a breath of air. “The right thing.” I stand. Allison stays positioned, staring me down. Ignoring her is my only option.

  Mimicking what I said, Danielle whispers, “The right thing,” maybe to me, to Allison, or to the room that has no ears.

  Taking this as a sign, I take one step forward, then another, and another. I let out a hopeful sigh. I’m home free.

  Then suddenly, I’m jolted back two steps. A searing pain in my head and a yank of my ponytail elicits a cry from my mouth.

  “I can’t let you leave,” Allison says.

  We’re back to this, seriously?

  Danielle yells, “What are you doing? Just let her go, Allison!”

  The tension on my hair eases up enough for me to pull free from Allison’s grasp, allowing me to scramble to Danielle’s side.

  “So she can run to the cops? Do you not understand? If she leaves, Daddy will go to jail—to jail!”

  “He belongs there! Are you blind? He’s done so much more to us than this. Allison, we can be free. Free from him. This is our chance.”

  Allison scoffs. Her mouth twists with anger. “For tough love? You want him to go to jail for that? For pushing us to be the best, for punishing us when we fucked up? That’s what parents do.”

  Closing the distance, Danielle steps forward, and taking Allison’s left arm, she yanks the long sleeved blouse up. Beneath the fabric, Allison’s skin is covered with bruises. Some are fresh, bright purple, while other are faded into the color of mustard.

  “This isn’t right, Allison! Parents don’t show their love like this.”

  Allison looks down at her arm as if it were a foreign body part, one she’d never seen until today. But Danielle doesn’t stop there. She drops the fabric of the sleeve, and Allison’s arm, and pulls up the covering around her midriff. Just like the arm, Allison’s waist is polka-dotted with varying colors of bruising.

  “And this, Allison, do you see this? How can you think this is right? Did you forget to do the dishes? Or take out the trash—maybe forget to pick up your dirty laundry?”

  I’m taken aback. This is even worse than I could have imagined. The few times I’d seen Allison, she was dressed to impress, yes, but long sleeved in the rising spring heat. Of course it seemed peculiar but it could have been anything—a bad rash or maybe underneath her flowing peasant blouses and button downs she was as red as a lobster from a tanning bed tragedy. But abuse. No, I don’t think I ever thought about it. Not really. I was too concerned about getting the justice Elliot and Embry deserved.

  But I’ll never forget that look on Allison’s face. The way she turned into a rigid ball of freaked out, cowering in the corner when her father came down the stairs. It was the reason my gut told me not to leave her alone. Maybe I suspected more than even I really understood at the time.

  Stunned, Allison says, “It was my fault. I—”

  “No Allison, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left you behind. I should have taken you with me when I left. I thought...Maybe if I left he’d leave you alone.”

  Danielle reaches out, and tucking Allison’s hair behind her ear, she whispers something inaudible to me. Danielle takes Allison’s hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here, I’ll take you home. Mike, he’d be happy to have you stay with us. We can sort the rest out tomorrow.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Mike...Michael Gunn?”

  Danielle’s eyes light up. “Yes, do you know him?”

  I smile. “No, I don’t,” but I’m happy he got his chance. That he and Danielle made a life for themselves. How did Elliot put it? Behind every woman is a guy waiting in the wings, desperate for his chance.

  Slowly we all make our way to the stairs. I’m in the lead, reaching them first. Danielle and Allison are clinging to each other tightly. I’ll be happy if I never see another basement again.

  I take the steps two at a time until I reach the top, push open the door and find myself in the kitchen of the Blake home. It’s dark. Only a green glow of a microwave or oven clock illuminates the space. I dodge a table, chairs and head towards the foyer. Feeling the walls for guidance, I manage to break from the kitchen and into the equally dim space of the hallway. A small lamp to my right in the living room casts shadows along the walls.

  The doorway comes into view. I can almost smell the grass, the dew, that’s forming on the blades, the fresh air that’s just beyond the door, but I don’t make it that far. A dark shadowed figure is standing between me and what’s outside.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I choke on a sob. “Embry?” My heart speeds up like a raging bull. I pick up my pace staggering towards the shadow, but realize all too soon my mistake, the danger that is right in front of me.

  Mr. Blake steps out from the shadows, his clothes ragged and covered with sawdust, his face slick with sweat and anger. And once his eyes, dark—so dark—recognize me, he barrels down the hall. “Allison!” he roars as his heavy footsteps bang against the floor, rattling the pictures on the wall.

  Quickly I turn, trying to scramble back towards the kitchen, but I only make it a few steps before huge, strong arms grab me around my waist. They squeeze me, tight, bone crushingly tight. I cry out in pain.

  In a second, I’m turned to face him. He pounds me against a wall, holding me there with such force I’m afraid he’ll crush me, break me in two and I’ll be dead.

  “Daddy! Daddy no! Let her go,” Danielle screams and rushes towards us. She brings her hands up and tries to pry her father off me.

  The hold Mr. Blake has on me lightens. He removes one large hand from my shoulder and grabs hold of Danielle. “What are you doing? I’m trying to protect this family!”

  Danielle squirms in her father’s clutches. “Let her go. You’ve done enough to protect this family!”

  My eye
s wander and through the blur of tears I can see Allison stiff as a board in the living room. “Help me,” I whisper.

  “Done enough? I’ve done everything for you,” Danielle’s dad replies. And like Danielle is a small twig, he tosses her aside with little effort. Her limp body soars through the air, banging the floor with a thud.

  In the next blink I see Danielle’s head lift from the floor, her arms wrapping tightly around her tummy. I didn’t think—didn’t notice. But now looking at her, embracing her midsection, a small bulge becomes noticeable. Oh God.

  “How could you!” she says through gritted teeth. But she’s not alone. Allison is by her side, assessing the damage.

  “Is she okay, the baby?” I whisper. Big mistake.

  Mr. Blake’s attention leaves his daughters and is focused back on me.

  “I should have taken care of you when I had the chance,” he says right into my eyes.

  This is it, I think.

  It’s over, all over.

  I’m going to die in this stupid cookie cutter house, with its lame white picket fence and tiny perfectly manicured shrubs. The plastic on the couches will stay clean and untouched. The fake tiled lino floor will be mopped clean of my blood. And I’ll find myself dead, dismembered and in the woods. Isn’t that how you make a body disappear? Bury them in the woods? I’m not quite sure as my mind races with possibilities. Maybe I’ll find myself at the bottom of a river, heavy cement blocks as shoes.

  I chuckle at that thought, forgetting where I am, the position I’m in. Clearly my brain is shutting down from stress because I feel another shove, and my body makes impact with the wall again. This time pain radiates from my back and spreads everywhere. Was that the wall or my bones I heard crack? I suppose this is what happens in traumatic situations, the mind and body can’t handle it, so they check out.

  If only Embry were here.

  He’d make things better, wouldn’t he?

  I could say goodbye—