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Elouise
My chest hurtsand I try to keep breathing, but the knife keeps nicking at the side of my neck.
“Please…” my words cut off into a sob.
“Shut up!” Mr. Olson snaps, leaning his body forward between the front seats. “Just drive!”
I don’t know what to do. I know you’re not supposed to drive to a second location with a kidnapper. I know that. But I don’t know how to get out of this. I don’t know how to stop my car and escape while a madman has a knife pressed to my throat.
I take my foot off the gas, hoping to buy some time, but Mr. Olson jabs the tip of the blade against my skin, “Faster!”
My whole body shakes as I grip the wheel in both hands, “Why are you doing this? What did I do?”
His laugh sounds completely unhinged. “You didn’t do anything! That’s exactly the point!” The knife presses harder. “I gave you time, Elouise. I gave you so much time to accept the idea.”
“To accept what?” I croak, not sure if keeping him talking is good or bad.
“That I love you!” he screams. “But you had to be a stupid little slut. Fucking Beckett!” he spits the name. “Letting him take what should have been mine! You’re just like the rest of them!”
“Ri-Richard, I’m sorry!”
“No!” his voice is a wail. “No! You don’t get to call me that! Not now!”
Tears stream down my cheeks.
The last time I cried, it was because Beckett made me feel so loved. So cherished.
He called me perfect.
Panic that I’ll never see him again claws at my throat, making it even harder to breathe.
The road turns again, bringing us to a short straight away. The ground dropping away on my right, the water below looking black under the night sky.
My ringtone ripples through air, as Beckett tries to call me again.
“Don’t answer that!” Mr. Olson screeches.
Blinking through my tears, I know what I have to do.
Letting the knife bite into my neck, I dart my hand forward and slap Accept Call.
“Elouise!” Beckett’s panicked voice fills the car.
Mr. Olson lunges between the seats, jabbing at the dashboard with his knife, letting out inhuman shrieks.
“Lou! Baby! Can you hear me?!” The worry in Beckett’s tone gouges my heart.
“I-” my grip tightens on the wheel, “I love you, Beckett.”
I tell him my truth.
Then I jerk the wheel to the side.
