For You

August 2, 2011
12:30 AM
Location – Closer to Peterborough, Ontario
Jordan

I get off the highway at an exit for a town about a half hour away from Peterborough. I was closer, that’s all the mattered right now, and I was closer. I wasn’t tired either; I felt the adrenaline kick in me once I pulled off the highway, even though I knew I needed another coffee. I was hoping to find a twenty-four hour Tim Hortons (if those even exist) and grab a coffee through the drive through with maybe a box of timbits.

My mind goes to Azalia though, as it had done so through out the night after my car had blown up. Spencer either toyed with my car himself or hired someone to toy with my car and he was watching my every move because he knew I was coming. He knew damn well I was coming when I told him back at my house that I would be coming.

It was also at that moment when I was hoping to God Azalia had her clothes on still and that he didn’t touch her. If he did touch her and I somehow found out about it, he was going to die, I would make sure of that. I knew what Spencer was capable of and I wasn’t going to let him do that to Azalia.

I then also began wondering if she were all right in general. I was hoping to God he didn’t drug her again, because I knew for a fact she hated needles and that if he did drug her again, she could possibly get sick. I closed my eyes once I hit a red light and her face came to my mind.

I went back to the time when I took her ice-skating before Christmas when she got out for school after practice. The doctors wanted me to stay off my skates due to my hand injury, but I figured I wasn’t going to be teaching Azalia how to play hockey, so I told her we’d ice skate after practice. She had never in her life put on a pair of skates and always wanted to try ice-skating. I was standing out by the board, extending my hand out to her. She took my hand and carefully stepped on to the ice.

“You won’t fall, I promise,” I smiled at her.
“You say that now…isn’t Heather going to get pissed?”
“I’m a man of my word remember? And Heather doesn’t need to know my every move.”

I held her hand as we did laps around the ice, while she tried insanely hard to not fall on her ass, which she did though. I let go of her hand and told her to skate toward me, after I moved to the blue line. She just looked at me as if I were nuts.

“You won’t fall,” I told her.
“Knowing me I will.”

Sbe began skating over to me slowly but I thought for sure she wasn’t going to fall over. She did though, half way to where I was standing and she fell flat on her ass. I skated over to her and sprayed her face with ice when I stopped. I look down at her as she washes her face and began laughing. “Oh, you find this funny Staalsy?”

She was the only one I was okay with calling me Staalsy.

“You know it Lia.”

And I was the only one she was okay with calling her Lia.

I extend my hand out to her to help her up. She grabed it but pulled down on it, causing me to fall on top of her. She was lying on her back now, with me straddling over her. I looked into her eyes, which were brown today, and caught them watering. She loved Marc and it killed her that he had Lindsay, but today, they weren’t watering because of Marc. “What are you staring at?” she asks me.

“Keep your brown eyes in Lia.”
“Why Staalsy?”
“They’re prettier than your blue ones, but your pretty in general.”
“Just pretty?”
“No…you’re beautiful.”

With that I kissed her and she kissed me back. It was that given moment when I realized I needed to break up with Heather and tell Azalia I loved her. I just needed to grow a pair and do so.

I open my eyes when the car in back of me begins honking their horn. I look up to see its green and drive off. I end up finding a McDonalds that was twenty-four hours, which was good, because I did need to use the bathroom. I pulled into the parking lot and walked in, heading straight for the bathroom. The McDonalds was dead, not a single person was inside except for two people working the night shift.

I go to the nearest urinal and begin to piss, exhaling the fact I hadn’t taken a piss since I left my house. I put my hand on the wall as the door swings open and someone pisses at the urinal next to the one next to mine. I shift my eyes over to him and see he has to be a little older than I am, but something strikes me about this guy and I get a really bad feeling in my gut.

I flush the urinal and zip my pants up only to see a handle sticking out of the mans pocket. It’s a gun, a freaking handgun. I tell myself to stay calm and that maybe he wasn’t going to shoot me. I walk over to the faucet and wash my hands, only to watch this mans back in the mirror. He reaches in his pocket and pulls the gun out, before quickly turning to look at me. I move out of the way as he fires a shot. I jump into the stall and see him kick down the door of the stall I’m in as he points the gun at me. “Jordan Staal,” he sneers at me.

“It is not a good time to be me right now,” I mumble.

With that, I kick him and make a run for it into the dining room, with him following. I knew Spencer had sent him, because Spencer knew I was coming, and Spencer probably wanted me dead, therefore, Spencer hired a hit man. I pick up a chair and throw it at the hit man, who falls backwards as I keep running around the dining room.

It was at this moment I knew I had to find my weapon of choice to defend myself. Sadly, Eric, Marc, and Jared did not send me off with a knife or a gun, and at this point I wish they had. It wasn’t like I could search my car and find a gun in the glove compartment.

That’s it.

I throw a table at the hit man and make a run for it to the car. I quickly unlock it; thank God there wasn’t an explosion, and search the glove compartment for a weapon. I quickly look over my shoulder to see the hit man coming for me. I quickly go back to the glove compartment and my eyes widened as I found a revolver lying in my hands.

Either the lord was testing me or I was now the owner of a former serial killers car.

I shut the door and march over to the hit man as I checked to see that the gun was loaded and prayed that the gun wouldn’t backfire on me. I hold it up and put my hand on the trigger as he lifts his gun up at me. I pull the trigger and a loud noise pops out as I see the hit man fall to his knees then to his stomach. I bend down to his level and turn him over, to see he’s still alive. I grab the collar of his shirt and bring his face toward mine, to see fear in his eyes. “Who sent you to kill me!?” I yell at him.

“Why should I tell you?”
“Answer my question, who sent you to kill me?”
“Spencer…Spencer Bradley.”

With that his eyes close and his breathing stops. I throw him back to the ground and march to the drivers seat, get in, throw the revolver on the seat, and pull out of the parking lot. I then pull out my phone and send Spencer a text message so he knows it’s game on. If he wanted to kill me, he was going to have to do it himself.

To – 555-321-9078

If you want me dead, you’re going to have to do it yourself. Bring it on buddy.