Someone Switched My Phone At A Party And My Life Has Become A Nightmare

Sometimes you just can’t explain things. Whether you can’t find the words or you’re in over your head, situations exist where you’re left floundering. That’s where I am. I am in over my head deeper than I could have imagined. It started with Mark’s end of semester party. I drank too much. I forget big pieces of the night. Now I am running. I am terrified. I don’t know where to go or who to turn to…

Mark was a lifelong friend of mine. We grew up in the same neighborhood. When we both got accepted to the same University it was like the perfect alignment of the stars. We could continue our mayhem and mischief. By our junior year, Mark had become known for amazing parties just off campus. He was a spoiled kid, Mommy and Daddy paid for him to have a whole townhouse which he graciously shared with me. Luckily, his parents didn’t mind being that they had known me my entire life, their son living with a girl who was basically his sister was okay.

This party wasn’t different than any other. Alcohol flowed freely, music blasted, questionable decisions were made. The rooms were packed wall to wall with drunk co-eds. Instead of my usual sober self, I decided that I deserved to live it up a little. Everyone had just finished their finals and was packing to go home. It was a perfect excuse to have a crazy night. It was the morning that was not part of the norm. I woke up in my bedroom, my mouth felt like a week old gym sock and my head throbbed. I squinted against the bright, early afternoon light coming through the windows. It had to be around noon or one, I didn’t bother checking. Ugh. What the hell was I thinking? I managed to drag myself to my bathroom. I checked the mirror, I was really worse for wear. My brown eyes bloodshot, my long blonde hair a rats next with stiff parts that smelled faintly of Apple Pucker, I was pale with what I imagined to be a slight green tinge on the edges. My head felt like there was an evil fairy with a jackhammer going to town.

I managed to get into the shower and brush my teeth. I at least felt slightly more human. I wrapped up in my comfy robe and shuffled to the kitchen, picking my way gingerly around discarded solo cups and general debris. Coffee. My only coherent thought. To my surprise someone succeeded in setting up the coffee pot the night before, I just needed to hit brew. I fared pretty well making some toast without burning the place down, even though the thought of food made my stomach automatically revolt against me. I groaned as Mark entered the kitchen, his cheery disposition didn’t help. How in the world did he never get a hangover? I admit I was slightly jealous.

“Good morning, sunshine. How are we feeling this morning?” he smiled as he poured his orange juice.

“Ugh. I am never doing that again. It’s not worth it,” I said, laying my head on the kitchen table.

“You say that every time, Lucy. And every time you get completely obliterated,” he chuckled, taking the seat across from me. “Last night was something else though. I swear you were putting away shots like your life depended on it. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t wake up next to Tony this morning.”

“What? Tony Gallo? Oh, god. What did I do?”

“You two were being rather friendly,” he coughed. “But he disappeared with those random girls after you passed out on the floor. I carried you to bed, by the way.”

Great. Just great. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to deal with Tony or any repercussions from whatever drunken antics I got up to. Tony was the single most annoying person I’ve ever had to deal with. He was in several of my classes, always inserted himself into conversations, extremely irritating pretending he was far superior to anyone he encountered. I got up from the table and stumbled back to my room. Pack or go back to sleep, that was the question. I opted to fall face down on my bed, hoping my stomach and head would stop competing for the most desperate to make me want to die. It was only a moment before my phone started buzzing on the nightstand. I cringed. It was either Tony or my mom. Mom would blather about how excited she was that I was coming home and Tony would want a continuance of the previous night. I reached blindly for the phone, answering just before the voicemail would have cut on.

“Hello?”

“Hello Lucy,” a voice answered. I gave a shudder. The voice was disturbing — think Hannibal Lector saying Hello Clarice.

“Who is this?”

“You’ll find out soon enough my darling girl. Soon enough.” I looked down at my phone just as the call ended. What the hell was that? Well, that was enough to get me out of bed, so I started packing, glancing nervously at the phone on occasion. I didn’t have much and I was mostly packed to begin with, so it was a short process.

I picked up my phone to send a few good bye texts to a few friends, but I was hit by confusion. The background was different. My phone’s background featured a picture of the Andromeda Galaxy, an ode to my astronomy major. This background was a picture of me walking into my physics lecture. Okay, weird. The picture was taken at a little bit of a distance. I didn’t remember the picture and I certainly wasn’t vain enough to set my background as a picture of myself. I scrunched my nose and opened the messaging folder. Empty. Okay, that was weird too. I was a hoarder of text messages, never deleting anything, no matter how incriminating. I opened my email. Empty. Okay, that wasn’t my email address. And I certainly wouldn’t have deleted that — it had all of my school stuff and emails from home. Feeling confused, I opened the camera roll. Whoa. Every picture was a photo of me, going to class, hanging out in the quad, dinner at Joe’s Diner, working in the library. Okay, this is just plain creepy. I made my way to the phone settings. The phone number that showed wasn’t mine. I somehow ended up with someone else’s phone, and a creepy stalker from the looks of it. I called down to Mark. I wanted him to take a look at this. The phone buzzed in my hand, with a new text message.

“I can’t wait to see you”

“Sorry,” I typed. “I’m not sure who you are trying to message. I accidently got their phone at a party. Who does this phone belong to?”

“oh Lucy. Its yours now. Do you like your pictures? I liked taking them”

Screw that. I screamed for Mark. He must have already been in the hallway, because he dashed in the room looking concerned. I wasn’t the type to get excitable, so he knew something was up. I didn’t speak, I just handed him the phone, trying to form sentences to explain what I had found on the phone and the freaky phone call. His brows furrowed.

“That’s just plain sick,” he said. “I don’t recognize the number either. Let’s just toss this thing and get out of here. I’ll carry your stuff down.” He pocketed the phone instead of depositing it in the trashcan and started carrying boxes down the stairs.

I tried my best to put the phone out of my mind on the long drive home, but it kept nagging at me. I borrowed Mark’s phone to report my phone stolen — we couldn’t find it when we searched the house. My parents were going to be thrilled to file an insurance claim to replace my phone. The drive was pretty quiet, one of the nice things about Mark. We were completely comfortable in silence. When we stopped to get gas and stretch our legs Mark checked his pocket. The glared at the mystery phone and looked warily at me. He handed it to me, text messages open.

“Aww, you look really sweet in that pink shirt. Loving the yoga pants btw”

“you look bored. Did you forget your book on your nightstand?”

“can’t wait to see you when you get home”

What. The. Fuck. The clothing description was spot on and I had forgotten my copy of The Hitchhikers Guide on my nightstand. I looked back to Mark, worried.

“Let’s get home,” I said. “Once we’re there, I want to call the police. This is just freaky. I don’t like it.”

The phone buzzed in my hand.

“you had better get going if you want to make it home in time to see bear”

Bear was my mutt dog. Aside from Mark, that dog was my best friend.

“I’m calling mom and dad. I want to make sure Bear is in the house,” I said. I bit my lip, making the call. There was no answer. I swore in frustration. I would try again in a little while. At least we were only about an hour from home. I spent the rest of the trip biting my nails and casting wary glances at the mystery phone stuck in the console.

Mark dropped me off, once he unloaded my stuff he set off for his house, promising to come back as soon as his boxes were in the house. He didn’t want to leave me alone for long. My driveway was empty. My parents were probably out at a flea market planning to buy more junk furniture to refinish. I wandered through the house, my stomach dropping. Where was Bear? He should have greeted me or at least been barking. I checked the backyard and immediately regretted it. There was bear, bloody and motionless on the porch. I think I screamed. I remember grabbing the house phone and calling Mark.

The police were polite. They took down all of my information and looked through the mystery phone, but left it behind. The decided that they would have a cruiser sit outside for the rest of the day and the night to keep an eye on me. Whoever this was, they were a real live threat. They killed my Bear. Mark cleaned up the porch and took care of Bear. I spent my time sobbing, unable to even look at the back door. Thank heavens for Mark. I don’t know what I would have done without him. But, that small respite he offered was very short lived. Things were going to get worse. So much worse. I already felt like my world had collapsed when I found Bear, but that was just the first blow to my perfect reality.

I stared out the window at the police cruiser parked at the curb. I was in shock and completely bewildered. I didn’t understand what was happening. I had tried calling my parents over and over again. Voicemail. Nothing but voicemail every time. On my last call, I’d gotten frustrated and threw the phone across the room. They knew I was coming home. This wasn’t like them at all. Usually, mom was busy in the kitchen working on a welcome home supper and waiting on a lot of dirty laundry. Dad would be lounging in his recliner, watching a sporting event on television. Instead, my house was silent. If not for Mark’s reassuring presence I’m sure I would have gone crazy.

I cried myself out just as the sun was setting. There was a knock at the door and Mark answered. It was Officer Petroff, my “official” guard. He wanted to let me know that he was going to be switching off with another officer, Officer Renard. Before he left, I asked about filing a missing persons report for my parents. I still couldn’t reach them and I was worried. He told me he would have Officer Renard come in and get a statement and he would let Detective Conroy, the man in charge of the investigation, know so that he could come speak with me as well. My head was throbbing and I felt utterly drained.

“Come on, Lulu. Let’s get you comfortable, you look like you’re going to be dead on your feet,” Mark said.

I smiled. Mark had called me Lulu all through our childhood, he only did it now when he was trying to be reassuring or when he wanted a favor. It always made me feel safe. I let him lead me to the couch where I promptly passed out. Crying is exhausting work.

I woke after a few short hours. Mark was gone. I shot from the couch and ran through the house yelling for him. I got no answer. I felt vibrating coming from my back pocket. It was the phone. I was shaking as I pulled it out and unlocked the screen.

“Your so sweet when you sleep”

“Think maybe I could call you lulu too?”

“tsk tsk. That policeman should not have left you all alone”

I didn’t continue reading, instead I dashed across the house back to the living room. I pulled back one of the curtains on the front window. There was no cruiser. My stomach sank to the floor and tears burned my eyes overflowing down my cheeks. No Mark. No cop. I was on my own. I grabbed the house phone and dialed Mark’s number, silently praying for an answer. Come on, pick up. Pick up. Pick up. “Damn it Mark, pick up your goddamned phone!”

He finally answered.

“Lulu! Sorry, so sorry. I didn’t know you were going to wake up so soon. Officer Renard was sitting outside, I had to run home and change. My parents aren’t home either. So no one to bring me anything and you didn’t have anything of mine in the house.” He spoke in a rush, not bothering to take a breath.

“Mark, the cop isn’t out there. And yes, we have clothes here for you, we always do. They are in the guest room. Get back here now.” I hung up. My next call was to the police station. They were not aware that Officer Renard abandoned his post outside of my house. They were going to radio to him, but in the meantime, they would send another officer out. I sighed and tugged at my hair. I had at least five or more minutes until someone else arrived. Anything could happen. I took off for the garage, I wanted my softball bat. I could at least try to protect myself.

It had been the most nerve wracking five minutes of my life before Mark walked through the door. I was so rattled I nearly took his head off with the bat. Relief washed over me once I realized it was Mark and I dropped the bat on the floor.

“Don’t you EVER do that to me again Marcus Alexander Gronkowski!” I said. I leapt on him and gave him a hard hug. “I was terrified. What if that crazy person got you? The police are gone. What if that crazy person got me on my own? What is wrong with you?!” I was as angry as I was relieved. “Right now, I could just kill you myself!” I let him go and stepped back, still glaring. As wonderful a friend he was, he could be really, really stupid sometimes.

“Sorry, really. The cop was here. I just wanted to change. You were safe with the cop here and no one is going to want to come after me, at least I think not. I was filthy from earlier.” He looked at the ground, not wanting to mention that he had gotten dirty burying Bear. “I couldn’t find my spare clothes in the guest room. Have you called the police station? Where is the damn cop?”

“I called, they don’t know, so they are sending someone else out while they try to find him,” I said.

We were both startled by a knock at the door. Mark pushed himself in front of me and answered. It was Detective Conroy — he had personally driven out. He wanted to get the information he would need to complete a missing persons report for my parents, I numbly gave him the information about their car and a recent picture of them. He informed me that they hadn’t found Officer Renard — he wasn’t responding to any of their radio calls. We were missing three people and the only thing each had in common was…me. Things were not looking good.

We sat in the living room, trying to run through possible suspects. We knew it had to be someone at the party. So we attempted to make a list.

“So, who was there? I understand it may be a long list, but any leads can help. I can call in Montgomery P.D to help us run down leads, same with campus police. So if you have contact info for any of the people. That would be helpful as well,” the detective said. He pulled a notepad from his pocket, prepared to take notes.

I spoke first. “Tony. I apparently spent most of my night…” I took a pause, suppressing a shudder. “…Well spending time with him. He’s always been a little creepy with me.” Mark nodded next to me in acknowledgement.

“There are the girls Tony left with, but I don’t know who they were, but they were just girls,” Mark said and shrugged. “There’s Owen Carter, Noah Morris, Tommy Hall, and Ray Harris. They’ve all had at least a fleeting interest in Lucy.” I raised my eyebrow. Really? I shook myself, with everything going on, I found that interesting? I was really starting to lose it.

“Anyone who was hostile or any girls that may come to mind?” Detective Conroy asked.

“Well, there is Ava Wright. She has always made it known that she didn’t like me. We’re in a lot of the same classes, same major. Or maybe, Adam Rogers? He’s a bit odd,” I said. I tried to think of anyone one else. There were a lot of people at the party and I could barely remember bits and pieces of my night, let alone every face that I saw. Mark went through his phone, giving the detective any of the phone numbers and names of people who were there that he had contact information for.

“Thanks,” Detective Conroy said and stuffed his notepad in his pocket. “I’m going to have them run this down. I’ll contact campus police and look everyone up.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and called the station to relay the names and numbers we could provide.

Hours passed. My parents never returned home. A call came through to Detective Conroy. They found Officer Renard’s cruiser abandoned just on the outskirts of our tiny town. The doors were open, dome light on, engine running. I couldn’t help but wonder when my life had turned into a horror movie. I just needed Neve Campbell or Jennifer Love-Hewitt to come walking out of a room and it would be complete. Or maybe Freddy or Jason, maybe even that dreadful clown from IT. A different cruiser pulled up and Detective Conroy excused himself. He needed to check in with the officer and then needed to go to the scene of Officer Renard’s abandoned cruiser.

I watched out the window for the detective to leave, but he didn’t. While he was speaking to the new officer, his head bowed and his shoulders sagged. I had no way of knowing what they were saying, but as the new officer shook his head I knew the news was not good. The detective turned on his heel and headed back towards my front door. I managed to open it before Mark.

“What? What’s going on?” I was insistent.

“Lucy, please, let’s go sit down and we can talk.”

“I’m not moving from this damn door. What the hell is going on?”

Detective Conroy gave a resigned sigh. “Lucy…state troopers found your parents’ car. It appears to be abandoned at a truck stop off of the interstate. There was blood, lots of it.” That was more than I could handle. My legs went out from under me and I crumpled to the floor. My world went dark.

I jolted awake at the sharp sting of ammonia in my sinuses. Smelling salts. My foggy mind registered the harsh smell. Detective Conroy was crouched over me, checking my pulse and looking me over. I tried to brush him away. I was fine. I just needed a minute. Strong arms went under me and I turned my head to see Mark scooping me up and moving me from the floor in front of the door to the couch. Again, tears flooded my eyes. I didn’t think I had it in me to cry any more than I already had, but I assure you it was entirely possible. As I was being soothed by Mark, the mystery phone buzzed. We all turned and stared at it as though it were going to hop off of the table and attack. I just shook my head, my hands up in a defensive position. It was Detective Conroy who took the initiative to answer. He seriously looked like he thought the phone would bite.

“Hello. This is Detective Conroy of the Springfield Police Department,” he said. He paused. “I’m sorry, she is not available to talk to you. Who is this? I can take a message.” Another pause. “Excuse me? I’ve already told,” and he was cut off. We were able to hear yelling, but from far away, it only came out garbled. Without responding, he hung up the phone. “Okay, Lucy, I want you to go pack an overnight bag. I am getting you out of here.” He looked to Mark. “You too. Once Lucy is done I’ll have the officer outside take you home to get some things. Where are your parents, are they home?”

“Well, actually no. They’re on vacation for the rest of the week. Cabo.”

“Good. Let’s get moving. I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.” He held up the phone. “I’m keeping this. I’m disabling the GPS and going to try and have our tech guy pull whatever he can off of it. We need to nail down this fucker.”

I was completely numb. I could see Mark shooting me concerned glances as we were stuffing my backpack with my clothes, ignoring the wrinkle factor. At this point, I had been running on autopilot. If not for Mark being the strong one, I would have fallen into a blubbering and quivering mass. Terrified and immobilized by my grief. I know he wanted to break down just as bad, but he wouldn’t let himself. I had been that rock for him in the past — when we were 12, his mother died of ovarian cancer then again when his father remarried when we were 14. Within minutes, Mark was being escorted back to his house to get his own things. I didn’t know yet where the police were taking us, but I hoped it would be a safer respite than my own home.

I sat in the motel room staring at the bare white walls. The blankets felt scratchy against the exposed skin of my arms and legs. I could hear faint conversations coming from the room next door and a persistent drip coming from the bathroom faucet. I’d been deposited in the room along with Mark and an officer posted at the door just about three hours earlier. I was exhausted, but my mind sparked with fear and anxiety. Sleeping was just not going to happen. I knew Mark was lying awake as well, neither of us wanting to speak. We needed time to process what was happening. I was replaying every interaction I had ever had with another human being. There had to be some recognition somewhere that I was faced with a raging psychopath. Could it be a friend that I made in kindergarten, or a customer that I rang up at one of my many retail jobs, or maybe someone from college? There were just too many possibilities…and no one stood out.

While on our drive out to the motel, Detective Conroy explained the rush to remove us from the house. The stalker had lost it when he wasn’t able to talk to me. Threats poured from him: Mark being gutted, my throat slit, more officer killings. Something he said shook Detective Conroy, something he wasn’t saying to us. He kept looking worriedly at his phone. Anxiety rolled off of him in waves, making me increasingly uneasy. Once our new officer arrived, Detective Conroy rushed out the door stammering a few words about contacting the F.B.I and ordering us to remain in the room no matter what.

I threw the blankets off and climbed out of the rock hard bed. Biting into my nails for the umpteenth time, I tasted blood. I had bitten my nails clear down to the quick. I walked to the window, peeking around the edge of the heavy floral curtain. I could just see the officer standing alert, but bored, outside of our door in the yellow light of the walkway. Coming down the walkway was a man wearing a black zip up hooded sweatshirt, his hands stuffed into the pockets. He gave me an uneasy feeling. I pushed myself into the corner, but didn’t take my eyes off of the man. A gloved hand came out of his pocket. I saw a flash of silver, almost golden in the outside lighting, as the man lunged at the officer. I moved instantly. I dove over my bed and frantically shook Mark awake.

“Mark, get up! We need to move!” I shook him violently.

“What? What are you talking about?” He blinked at me. Gosh, he sure wasn’t firing on all cylinders. In hindsight, I couldn’t blame him.

“The psycho just attacked the cop. We need to get the hell out of here. FAST. We are dealing with the worst police department in the country!”

I jerked his hand towards me to pull him out of bed, dragging him towards the bathroom. The only other exit was the bathroom window. I prayed it would open. I ignored the sounds of struggle coming from behind the closed door. Pushing it from my mind, I dashed across the room with Mark in tow. I heard the beep of the keycard in the lock, a sliver of the yellowish of light started to spread through the room. Mark, finally alert, pushed me aside so he could jerk the window open. He pulled me to the window and all but shoved me out, barefoot and wearing sleeping clothes. I turned and looked for Mark to join me. Instead I saw the dark hood of the sweatshirt at the window. Oh, god. Mark! But I took off running, not looking backwards again. Gun shots rang out, but I wasn’t going to stop.

The ground tore into my bare feet, sharp rocks and sticks digging in deeper with every step. I felt a sharp pain, more than likely glass digging in, but I wouldn’t let it stop me. I ran through the pain. I dodged into a wooded area behind the motel. At least I would have cover if someone followed me. Branches ripped at my bare arms and legs, I tried my best to cover my face, so my arms took a brunt of the beating. I ran as fast and as far as I could. I was taken down by a sharp pain in my side that made me lose my footing. I fell face first onto the ground, slightly cushioned by the debris of leaves and rotting branches. Now this is where you scream, Get up! Get up! Keep going! But unfortunately, despite what you see in the movies, you have limits and I’d reached mine. I had been running for what felt like hours but was more like 15 minutes. I wished I could keep going, run clear to Canada or Mexico. I’d settle just for the other edge of the woods and a good place to hide. I just couldn’t get up, between the stitch in my side and my throbbing foot. I crawled through the underbrush and hid under a small tree that had branches hanging to the ground.

I could barely see, but I felt at my foot and found a piece of glass that had lodged itself near my heel. With nothing else available, I managed to rip a piece of my shirt off. I pulled the glass out and wrapped the wound with the piece of cloth, fairly certain I wouldn’t bleed to death and maybe I could make it a little farther once the stitch in my side let up. I fought to slow my breathing so I could listen for footsteps, a cracking twig, rustling in the foliage, any sound that would let me know someone had followed me in. It stayed quiet, but it was a dead quiet. Not even the chirp of crickets or croaking of frogs broke the silence. It was a dangerous silence. Animals will go silent when there is danger — was the danger me or was it someone or something else? Just what I needed was a bear or a coyote sniffing around, although granted I would’ve rather had one of them than the psycho I was running away from. I was frozen. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Every muscle tense, my ears strained to hear something break the silence.

The woods stayed silent. No crashing footsteps or the muffled crack of a twig. The crickets resumed their chirping and soon I was also greeted by the croaking of the frogs. I had been the threat that made them fall silent. I slowly crawled out from beneath the tree, looking intently around me. I found a sturdy branch, just slightly longer than my arm, and stood. I had a weapon and a handy cane to help keep some weight off of my injured heel. I tried to orient myself, but I couldn’t remember which way the motel was. I had gotten too turned around. The leaves on the trees were too dense to get a good look at the sky. I sighed and started taking shaky steps in the direction I thought would be opposite of the motel.

I didn’t go for long and before I knew it, I was stumbling into a clearing. There was a small house that had a dirt driveway leading to the main road. It was a small ranch style house, brick edifice, with cleanly kept landscaping. I spotted a nice in ground pool just off to the side of the house. It looked like a nice family home. There was a light on in what I assumed to be the living room, the flashes from a television set reflected off of the window. I could stop here and try for help…or I could keep going. It was like the ultimate horror movie decision. Do I stop for help here and find myself surrounded by psychopaths or do I keep going and the original psychopath finds me on the road? The house looked safe and inviting enough, but looks can be extremely deceiving. Screw it. I decided to try the house. I needed water and maybe they could at least let me clean and bandage my foot.

A young woman answered the door. She was probably in her 30s. She had shoulder-length brown hair and a warm smile. She concerned and bewildered when she laid eyes on me standing on her porch in nothing more than a torn tank top and shorts. I had welts and cuts all over, blood dripping in spots and my hair more than likely was infested with twigs and leaves.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, her eyes going wide. “Are you okay?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m in trouble. Can I just get some water and maybe a bandage? I will be out of here in no time.” My eyes darted around the dark yard. The woman called out presumably to her husband. A taller man approached the door. He had to be about 6’0” with salt and pepper hair.

“Oh wow, uhm, please come in. I’m going to call the police, but you do need first aid.” Without thinking, I stepped through the door.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry to intrude. I really appreciate it, but seriously just some water and a bandage for my foot,” I said.

“I wouldn’t hear of it. You just get comfortable and we’ll take care of you. Anna, honey, please go grab the phone and call the police. This young lady needs more than our first aid kit.” The man smiled warmly.

“I’m sorry but I think I’ve made a mistake.” Every hair on my body stood at attention, primal instincts kicking in. I backed away from the couple, their expressions equally alarmed and puzzled, preparing to turn and run. Something wasn’t right. That was all I was able to say before arms wrapped around my neck from behind. Before the world faded I saw the smiles on the man and woman who answered the door.

I sat quietly in what appeared to be the basement of the house. The walls were cold cinder blocks, only a single heavy door as an exit. A small cliché bare lightbulb hung for the ceiling. I was given a small mat and blanket to lie on. Amazingly, the room was fitted with plumbing. No bucket for me. I figured I would have been screwed either way, had I headed towards the road. Whomever put the sleeper hold on me would have caught me and dragged me back here anyway. It was a no-win situation. I didn’t know what happened to my would-be rescuers. I honestly didn’t want to know, especially since I knew what had happened to everyone leading up to them.

I sat in that room for nearly a week, I lost track if not for the food being slid through a slot in the door I hadn’t noticed until my first meal arrived I would not have been able to track the time. It was just basics, a sandwich, a juice box, and chips. Three times a day. I listened intently, hearing muffled conversations through the heavy door. I grew increasingly frustrated. For the first day or two, I beat on the door, screaming until my throat was raw and I could barely manage a whisper. I was only once greeted by a strong slam on the opposite side of the door and a booming voice demanding I shut up or they would kill me. I crumpled to the floor and cried more than my fair share. I was trapped. Every once in a while snippets of the conversation would find their way to me.

“….how long?”

“…yes, both of them.”

“…multiple searches.”

“…nearly time.”

I spent a lot of my time planning an escape. However, being that I didn’t know where I was, aside from a cinderblock room, that was proving difficult. I could storm the door when and if it ever opened, but I had no idea what lie on the other side. Was I in the couple’s house? Was I moved somewhere else entirely? I just had no way to know. I finally decided that I would act. I couldn’t stay in that hole any longer. Even if it cost me my life, I was going to wait for the door to open and fight my way out.

I sat near the door waiting and listening. I only had to bide my time. Two meals went by when I suddenly dawned on me that a weapon would be a really good idea, but the room was barren. I knew I wouldn’t be able to break apart any of the plumbing and the blanket certainly wouldn’t be a decent weapon. I was trying to figure out ways to try breaking apart the plumbing when an idea struck — a light bulb if you will. I stood in the center of the room looking up at the light bulb and its wiring. Well, I sure hope this works. I jumped and grabbed at the wire. It didn’t give. I jumped again and again. Getting increasingly frustrated with each jump. I was prepared to give up and just take my chances, but I figured one more try wouldn’t hurt. This time the wire snapped and I fell hard onto the cold cement floor. I landed awkwardly, pain shot through my knee. Shit! I gritted my teeth and tried to stand. I couldn’t afford to let my knee stop me from trying to get out of there. I was a little wobbly and an electric pain shot through my knee, but I was mobile. I retook my position next to the door, straining to hear anymore muffled conversations. I dozed off and on, but I wasn’t disappointed. I was woken by muffled yelling on the other side of the door.

“What the hell did you do!?”

“I did exactly what you asked!”

“I never said to go on a killing spree! I told you to get them. Not go American Psycho.”

“No, you said scare her and grab her. I scared her.”

“Fucking idiot! It took me too much time to get back here because the god damned FBI is swarming all over the town! We need to get her and move. If I’d known I was pairing with Hannibal Lecter, I would have done this on my own.”

The voices belonged to a man and a woman. I wrapped the ends of the wire around my hands, holding the end with the smashed bulb in my hand. One of the arguing voices moved closer to the door, it was the woman‘s voice, I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer.

“What an idiot! He might have screwed up this whole thing,” she said.

I heard the lock turn in the door and watched the door open. I pounced, wrapping the wire like a garrote around the woman’s neck. I squeezed with everything I had left in me. When she began clawing at my hands I took the hand with the jagged bulb and jammed it into her eye. She screeched and let me go. All I saw was a shock of blonde hair. I didn’t register who she was. I was hell bent on getting away. I kicked her with my good leg and took off out the door.

The room I found myself in was a cavernous warehouse. I must have been locked in the bathroom. There were old and dilapidated pieces of rusting equipment dotting the otherwise empty space. My eyes darted warily, not finding the male accomplice. Lying across one of the old pieces of machinery was a metal bar, probably a piece that had long ago broken off. I picked it up, feeling the heft. I could manage this. I finally had a weapon and if I came across the man, I wasn’t going to go down easily. I pulled myself together and limped towards the door.

Outside I was greeted with a rose pink and midnight blue sunset. The fresh air felt wonderful in my lungs. I was in a large gravel parking lot, overgrown woods to all but the right side, that’s the way I went. I needed to get an idea of where I was. As I rounded the corner I caught sight of the man and my heart stopped. He was shoving Mark into the trunk of a blue sedan. I ducked back behind the corner of the building and tried to keep my eyes on him. It was Officer Renard. I felt the shock fall over me. I couldn’t understand why he would do the things he had done. Once he had Mark locked in the trunk, he headed into a side door of the building, it was the door farthest from the room where I had been locked. I only had a few seconds.

I took off towards the car, relieved that the door was open. It was an older car so the trunk latch was on the drivers side, just below the steering wheel. As I went to hit the latch, I won the lottery. The keys were sitting on the floor. Without stopping to get Mark out of the trunk, I jammed the keys in the ignition. We were getting the hell out of there, Mark could wait until we were safely away before I got him out. I slammed the car into reverse prepared to gun it. Out of nowhere, glass showered down across me. The driver’s side window was gone. A strong arm grabbed my hair and pulled me from the car. I fought, kicking and screaming, trying desperately to reach for my metal bar, but it just missed my grasp as I was yanked up and over the window. My legs tumbled onto the hard gravel, my knees screaming. I still fought. I clawed at the hands on my head, screaming against the burning pain of my scalp as my hair was ripped out in the tight grip.

I twisted, getting my feet under me. As I stood, Rendard’s arm went around my neck, finally releasing my hair. He landed a hard punch to my stomach, I lost my breath in a huff and crumpled in pain. I reached blindly at the ground trying to find anything I could to defend myself. My hands closed around a rock about the size of a baseball and I swung as I stood. I caught the man in the jaw, and his head jerked backwards. He tumbled over, releasing his grip on me. I jumped onto his chest with the rock in hand. I slammed the rock down, again and again. I felt bones crunching and his face didn’t give any resistance when I dropped the rock. I slammed it down one final time, hearing just a wet splat. I sat silently on his chest trying to slow my breathing. My hands were nearly black from the splattered gore. My arms, chest, and legs were covered in brain matter. I climbed up off of the dead man and went back to the car, which had rolled back to the edge of the parking lot, stopped only by the curb. I opened the trunk and helped Mark out and into the front of the car. He could only look at me, his eyes wide, but expression blank. I shut his door and limped back around the car. As I opened the driver’s side door of the car, the door of the warehouse flew open. Standing there was Ava Wright, blood obscuring the left side of her face. I grabbed the metal bar off of the driver’s seat, ready to swing. Ava let out a guttural scream and charged. Without hesitation, I swung, all of those years of softball paid off, as the bar connected with her face and Ava went down. Dropping the bar, I climbed into the car and took off. It didn’t take the police long to pull us over. A sedan with a smashed window being driven by a blood splattered woman was kind of hard to miss.

At the hospital I fared pretty well. I had torn ligaments in my knee and the wound on my foot had become infected. X-rays showed that I had a broken rib. Mark was shot in the leg by the officer’s gun on the night that I ran. He had a concussion and needed several stitches as a result of a few bashes on the head. We would live. That was what mattered. I managed to keep myself together for a while, but when they came to inform me that my parents bodies had been discovered, I lost it. Going to the morgue and seeing them motionless on the steel gurneys tore my heart out. Ava survived her run in with the metal bar, but she’d lost her eye and suffered some brain damage from the force of the hit. She would spend the rest of her life lost in her own mind. I wish I’d killed her. Officer Renard was dead when they found him. I wish I could have killed him a second time. The couple who would’ve helped me, they were found dead. Renard took care of them as well.

It took a lot of work on the behalf of the FBI to piece together what had happened. It was discovered that Officer Renard had developed an obsession with me long before I’d left for school. They were able to get detailed information from the phone that had been planted. He had been following me for years. They were able to link the phone to him. When they searched his house, they found his wife murdered in their bed. My own phone was on his kitchen table. He had a large series of folders on his computer dedicated solely to me. Papers I had written, photographs, archives of online activity, text message history, any public record on me. He had an app installed on the phone that tracked me. He had been at the party, and he had managed to sneak to the garage to place a small camera in Mark’s jeep. There had even been two cameras in our apartment.

Ava on the other hand, had developed an obsession with Mark. In their eyes, they had a big problem. Mark and I were close and that just wouldn’t do. Officer Renard wanted Mark out of the picture and Ava wanted me out of the picture. They concocted a plan to abduct the two of us and go separate ways. It was Officer Renard who had taken things above and beyond. He had seen me flirting with Tony at the party and had taken it personally.

My parents and my dog were murdered all because I got drunk. If I hadn’t drank that night and flirted with Tony I would have only been kidnapped, no one would have died. I am never going to drink again.