Status: Complete
No Witnesses
No Witnesses
We are on the run again. It seems like we are always on the run these days. Running, running, running. It’s all we ever do. This is the fourth time we’ve moved. You think we would have the hang of it by now, but someone always seems to slip up and give out information—information that we can’t afford to lose. So, they make us leave. They make us run. I wish I could force them to stop. Each new “home” is just a rest stop on this indefinite journey to nowhere. Where are we going? When will it end? I want a real home. I want to make friends that I can keep. I’m tired of being alone. But I have to face facts: I will always be alone.
I mourn the day I lost my identity—the day of my father’s murder. But it wasn’t just a murder; it was a mere killing in a long chain of murders. The murders are connected to a big group, or rather a business, that is spread out all over the country. How my father got involved, I do not know. This group, called The Brawl, deals in things such as money and drugs, like any other gang. But unlike other gangs, this one is the biggest the country has ever seen. My father put us all at risk by associating with them. I sometimes hope he had a just reason for getting involved, but it’s been 3 years and the FBI never found out the reason for his death. Now, hope just seems naïve. My reality battled with hope, and reality triumphed
His death wasn’t extravagant. One night, my dad answered the door and the killer shot his gun—once, twice, then three times. My mother ran to see, followed by me and my brother, Devin. There lay my father, with his blood spattered all over the walls and trickling out of three fresh holes through his chest. My mother was dumbfounded, as was the murderer that stood in the doorway. His gun faced the floor, and he just stared at the body. We saw his face and the symbol tattooed on his wrist—the symbol of a Brawl member. Finally, he quickly glanced at us and ran out the door. No doubt the mystery man was a new member. That look of shame on his face and the horror in his eyes—no Brawl member could exist that had any trace of humanity. Missing two arms, his body was found three days later.
We still knew the truth. We saw the symbol on his arm. We knew the Brawl had something to do with it. We had to run or else they would be after us too. They’d probably hide our bodies somewhere that no one would find us. The police were positive the Brawl had something to do with the killings, but without solid proof nothing was set in stone. We were put in the Witness Protection Program—how I hate the very name of it—to ensure our safety. What are they expecting to protect us from, death? Our previous lives vanished and were replaced with new ones. We were already dead by then.
They can make us change, but they can never make us forget. The burden becomes too much to bear. The wall we have to set between ourselves and others crumbles. So the fourth move comes, along with new faces, new names, and a new wall. I wish for this time to be different. I wish for the wall to disappear and for my new identity to be my real identity.
“Cheer up guys, it’s a chance to see the world!” My mom has to put on that face—that brave, happy face to reassure me and my brother that this is really a good thing. It doesn’t help, but I smile anyway. After three years, I’m used to wearing a façade. I’m almost 18 years old, and I can handle the reality. It’s harder for my 13 year-old brother. Hopefully, he won’t slip up this time.
We are only a few minutes from our new home in Raleigh, North Carolina. So far, I really like it. The buildings are more spread out, and there is space. The space will help me forget how confined I am in my own skin. I start at Tricastle High School tomorrow. After the first three times, I’m not nervous about starting a new school anymore. I don’t plan on staying. In the past, friends have only been nuisances. They hold me back when it’s time to move on. They never last long. I just have to make it through this last year of school and I can go wherever I want. No more imprisonment or secrets. The new me can be real.
We arrive in the early afternoon. The house is so much bigger than our last one, and it even has a backyard. It seems like a good place to set up a chair and enjoy the harmonic sounds of nature. The movers bring in box after box. Not that we have many things. Most were discarded in order to erase our previous lives, but a few things have been acquired since then. The program told us not to keep anything that might blow our cover; although, Mom keeps some photo albums and birth certificates inside a safe in her bedroom. My brother and I don’t even know the combination.
The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. I help my mother set up the furniture. There are still boxes spread around the house, but by dinner time, we feel too tired to worry about it anymore. The family eats dinner around the little table in the den, and even mom doesn’t try to spark up conversation. I guess the hopelessness is getting to her, too. We’ve played this game so many times that we already know what tomorrow will bring. My brother and I will go to school and act like we are part of a happy and functional family. We are simply actors on our life’s stage. After so many rehearsals, I’m losing the motivation to remember my lines.
There is no reason to stay awake, so I go to bed early. Sleeping helps me escape from my fake life and into a world where I can be anything—a world where I don’t have to cover up my secrets or even my name. I love my old name. I wish I had appreciated then as much as I do now. Emma Harriet Rawster. All my friends called me Emma Harry, when I had friends. I think about them as I fall into my dream world.
I feel like I had only been asleep for a few minutes when my alarm goes off. I’m too exhausted to pretend today. I see no point in trying to look nice for school if we’ll just end up leaving again. Mom forces me to wear something halfway decent, and do my hair. Getting dressed up is fun when you’re little, and you get to pretend you’re someone else. I’ve lived in a permanent costume for the last several years, so getting dressed up is just a hassle. Mom drives me to school. I grab a piece of toast and I’m out the door.
I walk onto that campus and feel absolutely nothing, though I can never say it. I have to blend in. I approach to the doors, plant a big smile on my face, and walk in. The school had mailed my schedule and a map several weeks earlier, so I immediately make my way to my first period class and pick a seat. A few people come before class starts, and each one does a double take in my direction. I know exactly what they’re thinking. In my experience I’ve learned that no one likes a new kid. But I don’t care. I don’t need them to like me, in fact, it will be better if they don’t like me.
After the bell ring and everyone files in, the teacher does that usual thing where he introduces me to the class. Mr. Gregory is the name written on the board.
“Delinquents, this is Alison Cheston. She needs no lip from you.” Oh yeah, I know I will like this teacher.
The day gets better after that. I meet a few nice people and surprisingly I take some enjoyment in talking to them. I don’t say much because the only person I know who to talk about is Emma, and that person no longer exists. I don’t like it when they ask questions about my past, but they tell me about the school’s programs and activities. Those will be a good distraction from my remnants of a life. One girl convinces me to join Yoga club, another practically forces me to join knitting club, and there is even a Harry Potter Club! I appreciate their kindness in showing me the ropes, but the numbness still overwhelms me. I’m not sure how well I can trust them, but my trust isn’t something I give out easily these days.
At the end of the day I have to ride the bus. I get to the bus lane pretty early, so I sit and waited on a ledge. I take out one of my assigned books and start reading. The class is already far ahead of me, so I have a lot of reading to do in the next couple of nights.
“Macbeth, nice.” Some boy had walked over and sat next to me. How did I not notice? “Um, hello.” My voice is shaky. Boys make me uncomfortable. People make me uncomfortable, especially people who sneak up on me. “Haven’t seen you here before. You must have transferred?” He utters it like a question. I have been dealing with questions all day.
“Yeah, I moved from Kansas. Who are you?”
“Brian Wakefield. I moved here from Kansas too!”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” My mouth moves into a sort of crooked half smile. He has a sense of humor. I think it freaked him out that I didn’t laugh more. “Who are you?”
“Alison Cheston.” I will have to get used to using that name from now on. “Nice to meet you, Alison!” He is polite for a teenage boy, “What bus are you riding?”
“I think 1298.”
“Me too!”
“Nice try, I won’t fall for that again.”
“But I’m not joking! I live on Wearny Street!” I haven’t learned the roads yet, but I believe him. He forces himself beside me on the bus. He never discusses his past or asks me about mine, but I don’t think there is one awkward moment. He keeps chattering away about so many things. He has so many ideas and knows so many interesting facts. For a while I forget about my life, or my lack of one.
The next few weeks go by very quickly after that. Brian and I get very close. We are basically dating, which I’m not too sure is the best thing idea. Of course, Mom has to constantly warn me about my one never-ending limitation.
“You cannot slip up Emma! One little mistake and everything we have worked for is ruined! Watch what you say, and don’t ever take your guard down.” I hate that stupid wall—the wall that comes between me and other people. It’s the reason I don’t want to get close to people in the first place. But I want to be with Brian. I’ll just have to be Alison, with Emma hidden inside. Maybe with Brian, I might actually be able to do it.
Brian and I mostly walk around downtown on weekends. He has shown me various places of entertainment. We go to movies, shopping, and even bowling sometimes. I feel alive for the first time since our first move. I feel like an actual human being and not like some animal struggling for survival. I’m not just living for myself anymore. I have something to live for now.
One Friday night, Brian and I decide to watch television at my house. We’ve been dating about five months. He is phenomenal with his charm and smarts. There is never a dull moment around him, and I hang on his every word. After a second I realize the room is silent. He’d turned off the TV.
“Let’s go for a walk. I want to show you something. Something big.” The butterflies in my stomach begin to flap their wings violently. In less than a second I get up and grab the keys and skip to the door. Mom left for the grocery store to buy food for dinner, and she won’t be back for about an hour. It’s dark out and the air is warm, which is peculiar at the end of October. We walk silently along the street holding hands. The size of his hands is so much larger than mine. His fist can cup my entire hand. I feel excited, and I look around to take everything in. I’m not numb anymore, and in that moment I want to tell him everything. I want to get a wrecking ball and obliterate the brick wall that separates us. The thoughts race through my mind of what I will say. Then Mom’s warning echoes in my head, and the doubt comes rushing in.
I’ve only been with him five months; I can’t complete trust him yet. Maybe after more time passes I can trust him. No, I shouldn’t ever trust him. I don’t know what to think anymore. While I’m debating what to do, Brian takes a sudden turn into the woods.
“Where are we going?” I’m not nervous. No matter how hard I convince myself not to, I can’t help but trust him.
“It’s a surprise!” He grins and winks at me. I would have follow him anywhere. We trudge through the woods until I see a dark figure in the distance. As we approach I see it’s an abandoned house. It’s fairly big, and looks like it’s at least a hundred years old, if not more.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” The question is instinctive; I don’t really feel worried.
“We’ll find out!” Pulling me by the hand, he starts walking faster toward the house. When we reach the front he wiggles the door handle a little until it opens. The house is covered in vines and spider webs. It’s nasty yet so beautiful. It’s also very romantic. We enter into a type of lobby and I can see the stairs in the corner. He circles the room as I stand by the doorway and watch. He finds an old lantern on the mantle and pulls some matches out of his pocket to light it. I have no idea why he has matches, but my mind is too busy focusing on the newly visible colors of the room to notice. The walls are dark brown and all the furniture and rugs are a blood red color. There is a giant portrait on the right side of the room that takes up the entire wall. It is a natural scene: Trees surrounding a lake and the starry night sky looking over them. It is gorgeous, but doesn’t really match the red colors of the room.
I go over to Brian and slide my hand into his, “It’s eerie in here. We should go explore upstairs.” I feel so adventurous. I’m not afraid of anything when he’s near. He smiles at me and turns around to go toward the stairs.
“Don’t move,” A strange voice comes from behind us. I freeze. “Well, well, we’ve been searching for you for quite a while now little lady.”
It has to be them. The Brawl finally figured us out, but how? We have been so careful. We moved four times. We changed our names four times. We’ve hidden for three years. Why now? I slowly turn around to face him. He’s really tall, and gripped tightly in each hand is a gun.
“Go away.” I can’t think of anything else to say. He is holding all the cards and I’m like a doe caught in the headlights.
“Oh, look how bright this one is!” He talks like someone else is here. He does an evil chuckle and continues. “You can’t be over twelve years old. How is it that you were able to get away for so long?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You are exactly who I am talking about,” he mutters darkly as he narrows his eyes.
“Don’t worry Emma, It’ll be okay.” Brian whispers. I feel a warm sensation fill me up from the feet up.
Then it turns to ice. Before I can say anything someone grabs my arms and holds them painfully tight. Something cold and hard jabs into my back.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” murmurs low voice. It’s a voice I don’t recognize, but I immediately know whose it is. How did he know?
“Good job kid, you got potential!” exclaims the mystery man. Now everything clicks in my head.
“All in a day’s work,” Brian replies. He led me here to kill me. I’m scared and heartbroken at the same time.
“LIAR!” I can’t control myself. I spent years of controlling myself and I can’t take it any more. I attempt to wriggle free but Brian just grips me tighter. I wince.
“Oh, she’s a feisty one,” laughs the stranger, and then Brian joins in. I have to clear my head. I was taught what to do in these situations before our first move. I take a deep breath and try to remember.
“What do we do with the body?” asks Brian.
“Burn it. Bury the remains. No one will find her out here.”
Brian had set the lamp on the floor. It’s still burning.
“Boss oughta give you an oscar now kid. You’ll be his right hand man when we get back. You know where the family is?”
“I’ll take you to them after we’re finished here.”
Before I can second guess myself, I lift up my right foot and kick the burning lamp as hard as I can into Brian’s direction. He yelps in pain and quickly lets go. His gun makes a loud thump as it hits the hardwood floor. The flames begin growing around him, but he is frantically trying put out the fire that had started on his pants. The strange man is stunned. I take advantage of this moment and shove Brian’s gun into the flames with my foot, then bolt out the door.
The man shoots at me, but still in his daze he misses and hits the door frame instead. I run as fast as I can back the way I came. I have no phone and I had dropped the keys. I don’t look back to see if they’re behind me. Suddenly, I hear screaming. Not just one scream, but repetitive screaming. They’re agonizing screams and it makes me shudder. I guess Brian didn’t escape in time. I feel a hot jolt of pain surge through me, but I keep running. The farther I run, the farther it will be behind me. When I get to the road, I flag down the first car I see. The seconds it takes them to reach me feel like an eternity. They see red marks on my arms and I’m covered in sweat, so they know something is wrong. My eye catches the sparkly glint of a cell phone. Without asking I grab it and call 911.
So here we are again. Our next destination is Dewey, Oklahoma. It sounds boring, but I think this move is going to be different. This time I want to be happy.
“I think the new house is near a public swimming pool!” There’s Mom, trying to cheer us up again. Thanks Mom, but this time I don’t need it. I’m happy just being with you guys.
I mourn the day I lost my identity—the day of my father’s murder. But it wasn’t just a murder; it was a mere killing in a long chain of murders. The murders are connected to a big group, or rather a business, that is spread out all over the country. How my father got involved, I do not know. This group, called The Brawl, deals in things such as money and drugs, like any other gang. But unlike other gangs, this one is the biggest the country has ever seen. My father put us all at risk by associating with them. I sometimes hope he had a just reason for getting involved, but it’s been 3 years and the FBI never found out the reason for his death. Now, hope just seems naïve. My reality battled with hope, and reality triumphed
His death wasn’t extravagant. One night, my dad answered the door and the killer shot his gun—once, twice, then three times. My mother ran to see, followed by me and my brother, Devin. There lay my father, with his blood spattered all over the walls and trickling out of three fresh holes through his chest. My mother was dumbfounded, as was the murderer that stood in the doorway. His gun faced the floor, and he just stared at the body. We saw his face and the symbol tattooed on his wrist—the symbol of a Brawl member. Finally, he quickly glanced at us and ran out the door. No doubt the mystery man was a new member. That look of shame on his face and the horror in his eyes—no Brawl member could exist that had any trace of humanity. Missing two arms, his body was found three days later.
We still knew the truth. We saw the symbol on his arm. We knew the Brawl had something to do with it. We had to run or else they would be after us too. They’d probably hide our bodies somewhere that no one would find us. The police were positive the Brawl had something to do with the killings, but without solid proof nothing was set in stone. We were put in the Witness Protection Program—how I hate the very name of it—to ensure our safety. What are they expecting to protect us from, death? Our previous lives vanished and were replaced with new ones. We were already dead by then.
They can make us change, but they can never make us forget. The burden becomes too much to bear. The wall we have to set between ourselves and others crumbles. So the fourth move comes, along with new faces, new names, and a new wall. I wish for this time to be different. I wish for the wall to disappear and for my new identity to be my real identity.
“Cheer up guys, it’s a chance to see the world!” My mom has to put on that face—that brave, happy face to reassure me and my brother that this is really a good thing. It doesn’t help, but I smile anyway. After three years, I’m used to wearing a façade. I’m almost 18 years old, and I can handle the reality. It’s harder for my 13 year-old brother. Hopefully, he won’t slip up this time.
We are only a few minutes from our new home in Raleigh, North Carolina. So far, I really like it. The buildings are more spread out, and there is space. The space will help me forget how confined I am in my own skin. I start at Tricastle High School tomorrow. After the first three times, I’m not nervous about starting a new school anymore. I don’t plan on staying. In the past, friends have only been nuisances. They hold me back when it’s time to move on. They never last long. I just have to make it through this last year of school and I can go wherever I want. No more imprisonment or secrets. The new me can be real.
We arrive in the early afternoon. The house is so much bigger than our last one, and it even has a backyard. It seems like a good place to set up a chair and enjoy the harmonic sounds of nature. The movers bring in box after box. Not that we have many things. Most were discarded in order to erase our previous lives, but a few things have been acquired since then. The program told us not to keep anything that might blow our cover; although, Mom keeps some photo albums and birth certificates inside a safe in her bedroom. My brother and I don’t even know the combination.
The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. I help my mother set up the furniture. There are still boxes spread around the house, but by dinner time, we feel too tired to worry about it anymore. The family eats dinner around the little table in the den, and even mom doesn’t try to spark up conversation. I guess the hopelessness is getting to her, too. We’ve played this game so many times that we already know what tomorrow will bring. My brother and I will go to school and act like we are part of a happy and functional family. We are simply actors on our life’s stage. After so many rehearsals, I’m losing the motivation to remember my lines.
There is no reason to stay awake, so I go to bed early. Sleeping helps me escape from my fake life and into a world where I can be anything—a world where I don’t have to cover up my secrets or even my name. I love my old name. I wish I had appreciated then as much as I do now. Emma Harriet Rawster. All my friends called me Emma Harry, when I had friends. I think about them as I fall into my dream world.
I feel like I had only been asleep for a few minutes when my alarm goes off. I’m too exhausted to pretend today. I see no point in trying to look nice for school if we’ll just end up leaving again. Mom forces me to wear something halfway decent, and do my hair. Getting dressed up is fun when you’re little, and you get to pretend you’re someone else. I’ve lived in a permanent costume for the last several years, so getting dressed up is just a hassle. Mom drives me to school. I grab a piece of toast and I’m out the door.
I walk onto that campus and feel absolutely nothing, though I can never say it. I have to blend in. I approach to the doors, plant a big smile on my face, and walk in. The school had mailed my schedule and a map several weeks earlier, so I immediately make my way to my first period class and pick a seat. A few people come before class starts, and each one does a double take in my direction. I know exactly what they’re thinking. In my experience I’ve learned that no one likes a new kid. But I don’t care. I don’t need them to like me, in fact, it will be better if they don’t like me.
After the bell ring and everyone files in, the teacher does that usual thing where he introduces me to the class. Mr. Gregory is the name written on the board.
“Delinquents, this is Alison Cheston. She needs no lip from you.” Oh yeah, I know I will like this teacher.
The day gets better after that. I meet a few nice people and surprisingly I take some enjoyment in talking to them. I don’t say much because the only person I know who to talk about is Emma, and that person no longer exists. I don’t like it when they ask questions about my past, but they tell me about the school’s programs and activities. Those will be a good distraction from my remnants of a life. One girl convinces me to join Yoga club, another practically forces me to join knitting club, and there is even a Harry Potter Club! I appreciate their kindness in showing me the ropes, but the numbness still overwhelms me. I’m not sure how well I can trust them, but my trust isn’t something I give out easily these days.
At the end of the day I have to ride the bus. I get to the bus lane pretty early, so I sit and waited on a ledge. I take out one of my assigned books and start reading. The class is already far ahead of me, so I have a lot of reading to do in the next couple of nights.
“Macbeth, nice.” Some boy had walked over and sat next to me. How did I not notice? “Um, hello.” My voice is shaky. Boys make me uncomfortable. People make me uncomfortable, especially people who sneak up on me. “Haven’t seen you here before. You must have transferred?” He utters it like a question. I have been dealing with questions all day.
“Yeah, I moved from Kansas. Who are you?”
“Brian Wakefield. I moved here from Kansas too!”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” My mouth moves into a sort of crooked half smile. He has a sense of humor. I think it freaked him out that I didn’t laugh more. “Who are you?”
“Alison Cheston.” I will have to get used to using that name from now on. “Nice to meet you, Alison!” He is polite for a teenage boy, “What bus are you riding?”
“I think 1298.”
“Me too!”
“Nice try, I won’t fall for that again.”
“But I’m not joking! I live on Wearny Street!” I haven’t learned the roads yet, but I believe him. He forces himself beside me on the bus. He never discusses his past or asks me about mine, but I don’t think there is one awkward moment. He keeps chattering away about so many things. He has so many ideas and knows so many interesting facts. For a while I forget about my life, or my lack of one.
The next few weeks go by very quickly after that. Brian and I get very close. We are basically dating, which I’m not too sure is the best thing idea. Of course, Mom has to constantly warn me about my one never-ending limitation.
“You cannot slip up Emma! One little mistake and everything we have worked for is ruined! Watch what you say, and don’t ever take your guard down.” I hate that stupid wall—the wall that comes between me and other people. It’s the reason I don’t want to get close to people in the first place. But I want to be with Brian. I’ll just have to be Alison, with Emma hidden inside. Maybe with Brian, I might actually be able to do it.
Brian and I mostly walk around downtown on weekends. He has shown me various places of entertainment. We go to movies, shopping, and even bowling sometimes. I feel alive for the first time since our first move. I feel like an actual human being and not like some animal struggling for survival. I’m not just living for myself anymore. I have something to live for now.
One Friday night, Brian and I decide to watch television at my house. We’ve been dating about five months. He is phenomenal with his charm and smarts. There is never a dull moment around him, and I hang on his every word. After a second I realize the room is silent. He’d turned off the TV.
“Let’s go for a walk. I want to show you something. Something big.” The butterflies in my stomach begin to flap their wings violently. In less than a second I get up and grab the keys and skip to the door. Mom left for the grocery store to buy food for dinner, and she won’t be back for about an hour. It’s dark out and the air is warm, which is peculiar at the end of October. We walk silently along the street holding hands. The size of his hands is so much larger than mine. His fist can cup my entire hand. I feel excited, and I look around to take everything in. I’m not numb anymore, and in that moment I want to tell him everything. I want to get a wrecking ball and obliterate the brick wall that separates us. The thoughts race through my mind of what I will say. Then Mom’s warning echoes in my head, and the doubt comes rushing in.
I’ve only been with him five months; I can’t complete trust him yet. Maybe after more time passes I can trust him. No, I shouldn’t ever trust him. I don’t know what to think anymore. While I’m debating what to do, Brian takes a sudden turn into the woods.
“Where are we going?” I’m not nervous. No matter how hard I convince myself not to, I can’t help but trust him.
“It’s a surprise!” He grins and winks at me. I would have follow him anywhere. We trudge through the woods until I see a dark figure in the distance. As we approach I see it’s an abandoned house. It’s fairly big, and looks like it’s at least a hundred years old, if not more.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” The question is instinctive; I don’t really feel worried.
“We’ll find out!” Pulling me by the hand, he starts walking faster toward the house. When we reach the front he wiggles the door handle a little until it opens. The house is covered in vines and spider webs. It’s nasty yet so beautiful. It’s also very romantic. We enter into a type of lobby and I can see the stairs in the corner. He circles the room as I stand by the doorway and watch. He finds an old lantern on the mantle and pulls some matches out of his pocket to light it. I have no idea why he has matches, but my mind is too busy focusing on the newly visible colors of the room to notice. The walls are dark brown and all the furniture and rugs are a blood red color. There is a giant portrait on the right side of the room that takes up the entire wall. It is a natural scene: Trees surrounding a lake and the starry night sky looking over them. It is gorgeous, but doesn’t really match the red colors of the room.
I go over to Brian and slide my hand into his, “It’s eerie in here. We should go explore upstairs.” I feel so adventurous. I’m not afraid of anything when he’s near. He smiles at me and turns around to go toward the stairs.
“Don’t move,” A strange voice comes from behind us. I freeze. “Well, well, we’ve been searching for you for quite a while now little lady.”
It has to be them. The Brawl finally figured us out, but how? We have been so careful. We moved four times. We changed our names four times. We’ve hidden for three years. Why now? I slowly turn around to face him. He’s really tall, and gripped tightly in each hand is a gun.
“Go away.” I can’t think of anything else to say. He is holding all the cards and I’m like a doe caught in the headlights.
“Oh, look how bright this one is!” He talks like someone else is here. He does an evil chuckle and continues. “You can’t be over twelve years old. How is it that you were able to get away for so long?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You are exactly who I am talking about,” he mutters darkly as he narrows his eyes.
“Don’t worry Emma, It’ll be okay.” Brian whispers. I feel a warm sensation fill me up from the feet up.
Then it turns to ice. Before I can say anything someone grabs my arms and holds them painfully tight. Something cold and hard jabs into my back.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” murmurs low voice. It’s a voice I don’t recognize, but I immediately know whose it is. How did he know?
“Good job kid, you got potential!” exclaims the mystery man. Now everything clicks in my head.
“All in a day’s work,” Brian replies. He led me here to kill me. I’m scared and heartbroken at the same time.
“LIAR!” I can’t control myself. I spent years of controlling myself and I can’t take it any more. I attempt to wriggle free but Brian just grips me tighter. I wince.
“Oh, she’s a feisty one,” laughs the stranger, and then Brian joins in. I have to clear my head. I was taught what to do in these situations before our first move. I take a deep breath and try to remember.
“What do we do with the body?” asks Brian.
“Burn it. Bury the remains. No one will find her out here.”
Brian had set the lamp on the floor. It’s still burning.
“Boss oughta give you an oscar now kid. You’ll be his right hand man when we get back. You know where the family is?”
“I’ll take you to them after we’re finished here.”
Before I can second guess myself, I lift up my right foot and kick the burning lamp as hard as I can into Brian’s direction. He yelps in pain and quickly lets go. His gun makes a loud thump as it hits the hardwood floor. The flames begin growing around him, but he is frantically trying put out the fire that had started on his pants. The strange man is stunned. I take advantage of this moment and shove Brian’s gun into the flames with my foot, then bolt out the door.
The man shoots at me, but still in his daze he misses and hits the door frame instead. I run as fast as I can back the way I came. I have no phone and I had dropped the keys. I don’t look back to see if they’re behind me. Suddenly, I hear screaming. Not just one scream, but repetitive screaming. They’re agonizing screams and it makes me shudder. I guess Brian didn’t escape in time. I feel a hot jolt of pain surge through me, but I keep running. The farther I run, the farther it will be behind me. When I get to the road, I flag down the first car I see. The seconds it takes them to reach me feel like an eternity. They see red marks on my arms and I’m covered in sweat, so they know something is wrong. My eye catches the sparkly glint of a cell phone. Without asking I grab it and call 911.
So here we are again. Our next destination is Dewey, Oklahoma. It sounds boring, but I think this move is going to be different. This time I want to be happy.
“I think the new house is near a public swimming pool!” There’s Mom, trying to cheer us up again. Thanks Mom, but this time I don’t need it. I’m happy just being with you guys.