Homecoming
I once had a brother with fiery eyes and a loud, obnoxious voice. He was my sun, moon, and stars, and if anyone ever tried messing with me, Jason taught them a lesson. I know it’s weird to say something as simple as ‘I love my brother’, but it’s much more than love. It’s also not the weird crap you’re thinking about because, no, my brother and I were never sexual. Get your mind out of the gutter.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I stood on the uncovered stoop of my childhood home. I shivered so bad I feared the wind would think I was a leaf and steal me away. Would it be so bad, though? To let it take me like that. It might drop me off on a gorgeous island with flowers and nature.
Sweet, silent solitude. As lightning and thunder cracked across the black expanse, rain poured from the sky. It was a bad storm, but it wasn’t the worst, but all I had on was my shabby brown backpack and a holey LA hoodie, which made it that much worse. Leaving home is a peculiar thing. No one expects you to return, and they’re not thrilled when you do.
My mother stood in the doorway, her short, stubby arm blocking my path to the warm, well-lit hall. Her sneering face looked me up and down as she shook her head. “You left.” It’s all she ever had to say.
I called her from California once, and she answered to tell me I had been disowned. It wasn’t my fault that I chose to live and be happy outside her and Dad’s influence. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as happy as I thought and crawled back with my tail between my legs.
My mom, in her disapproval, refused to let me, her youngest child, enter, branding me a ‘shame on the family.’ Her lips curled away from her perfect white teeth as she pointed to the drive. “Out of my sight.” The door slammed behind her, taking the heat and light with it.
Tears stung my blue-hazel eyes, and I wiped them away before I could be caught crying. Since Jason’s accident, this has been my life. The first chance I got to leave, I did, and it wasn’t well received… obviously.
Jason had been the favorite thanks to his amazing athleticism and ambition. Dad always said Jason was the best child a parent could ask for.
I wiped water from my cheek and closed my eyes with a sigh. I turned away from the old blue house with its closed shutters and well-kept lawn where water pooled in the little dimples from the fresh mow. Dad always took better care of his yard than his family because he feared the judgment. It didn’t matter that we weren’t as happy as Mom portrayed online; appearances mattered.
Thunder rumbled overhead, a grim reminder of my current predicament. Penniless and without a plan, I had hoped to beg forgiveness and spend the night in my old room, but it would only have been a temporary respite. Dad’s “my way or the highway” and Mom’s obsession with perfection would be my undoing. I barely survived adolescence; imagine being a twenty-three-year-old college dropout.
The thought sent a chill down my spine. “It’s okay. I can handle this,” I muttered, adjusting my backpack and hurrying down the street before doubts could take hold.
My shoes squelched in the mud, splashing my already soaked jeans with gross trench water. Trees lined the dirt pothole roads and cast shivering shadows as far as the eye could see. A flickering streetlight every eighty feet left me dependent on the moon, which would hide behind waves of black clouds every fifteen seconds. This is humiliating. She could have at least given me an umbrella.
I would’ve accepted the pink ladybug one my dad got when I was eight, which I knew was in the hall for emergencies. Surely, this was considered an emergency. Even if they didn’t count me as one of the family, this had to be an emergency. Wasn’t the saying ‘love thy neighbor’ or some shit?
The water pooled in my hood before soaking through the fabric and running down my back. I shivered and shook off the lingering droplets as I hit the corner of our crappy dirt road. My eyes swept up and down the road as I tried to figure out my plan.
“Always have a plan, Kiddo. You can’t do anything without a plan.” Jason would have said. He always knew what to say and do.
When I first got to LA, he had moved me in and wrote a twelve-step plan for making friends and connections for the job I wanted. If he hadn’t died when I was in the middle of step two, I might have been successful.
“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Even if he is your annoying older brother who could do no wrong,” I grumbled, running my hands along my arms for warmth. This was going to be my life now. No, set plans just living by the edge of my pants. I narrowed my eyes with determination and did another quick sweep. What were my options?
The whole town had two grocery stores, a shit load of banks, a single coffee stand, and about a dozen churches. None of those places would do me any good, and the last time I stepped foot in one of the churches, an electrical fire caught and burned it to the ground. I wasn’t allowed in any of the “sanctuaries” after that, as the priests and pastors called it a sign from God. Diner.
I could reach the twenty-four-hour diner in less than twenty minutes on foot, though I wondered what good it would do without a penny to my name. It’s dry, and they have some semblance of safety. Lost in thought, I failed to notice the world around me. That was probably not the most brilliant move for a woman walking dirt roads at nearly midnight alone.
I grew up in this small town, a backwoods village where everyone knew everyone else’s business. I knew every corner, every secret, every scandal. This town was mine, for better or worse, though they seemed to think otherwise after my few years away.
One of the perks of small towns is that everyone knows everyone. But the downside? Everyone knows everyone. For instance, I knew our neighbor sold drugs on the side, and Ms. Tully helped cover for him when the cops came knocking.
My shoes squelched in the mud as I jogged along the dimly lit highway, hoping to make it to the diner before the lightning decided I was a worthy target. The wind cut through my hoodie and the old ’70s band t-shirt underneath, and I groaned again.
A beat-up junker car roared by, but I paid it no mind. The most I did was step aside into the ankle-deep ditch, not noticing what it was until it was too late. Water splashed across my face and rippled in the disturbance, making me growl in frustration. Great, just great. Thanks dickwad.
The car screeched to a halt, feet from where I stood frozen. It took a moment for my brain to catch up to my body as the vehicle reversed, its back door swinging open with a hair-raising squeal.
A man, the size of a silverback gorilla, leaped out with outstretched arms. His squashed face was pinched into a snarl, and he ran at me, his growl tearing through the dark and drowning out the thunder.
Kidnappings only happen in movies and TV shows, right? Men didn’t snatch women from dark streets to turn them into sex slaves. That wasn’t real, except it looked like it might be happening to me. Run.
Thankfully, my body obeyed. I dropped my bag and scanned my surroundings - Old Man Roster’s ranch, with vast fields and grazing cows, was to my left. I scrambled over the barbed wire fence without a second thought, barely noticing the wire tearing my palm. Blood pooled, but I couldn’t afford to stop to worry about a little barbed wire cut. It wasn’t the first and probably wouldn’t be the last. A single shout from the gorilla man spurred me across the field, legs pumping fast.
As I fled, trees swayed and creaked in the wind, cheering me on. A distant voice shouted something lost in the gusts. Pain shot through my hand, but adrenaline masked it, making it tolerable until I could seek medical attention.
“You can do anything you set your mind to, Mona. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Jason’s voice floated through the creaking boughs of the oak and pine trees.
Could I avoid turning into someone’s sex slave? It didn’t seem possible to avoid this horrendous, roaring gorilla behind me when I was already so tired.
Jason! Help me. If I had known a bunch of mind readers were driving that piece of shit, I wouldn’t have thought anything terrible. This is what I get for being a smart ass. Mom always told me my attitude would get me killed. Oh, how she would love to be correct.
My light blonde hair was plastered to my forehead. A flashlight swept across the ground behind me, illuminating my path, and terror gripped my heart in an icy hand. The man was able to keep up... how was he keeping up?
Suddenly, a figure lunged from the side. His size and weight knocked the wind from my lungs as we tumbled into the dirt, water spraying around us. Cold, sticky mud clung to my body and clouded my vision, but that was the least of my worries. The fear of what lay ahead gripped me like a vice, much like the man’s arms, as he picked me up with both hands as if I were a child.
Gasping for air, I wheezed as his hands constricted, and he grinned like a jackal. I wheezed a desperate plea for mercy as he hoisted me over his shoulder and headed back towards the junker car, where one other man sat inside. The driver's long, pinched face and elongated canines made him look like Dracula from that ancient horror film.
“We’ve got her, let’s go,” Gorilla grunted, tossing me in the back and joining me as he slammed the door.
The car revved and sped off down the street, leaving my tiny life behind and my heart hammering as I forced air through my lungs. Kidnapped. I’ve been kidnapped.
