The Trapped

55

55

- S U T T E R -

11.21.16 // 8:32 p.m.

747 Jackson Rd, Beverly Hills is no longer a house. I stand outside of the place that was once a home, but is now scattered pieces of burned wood that is covered up by the autumn leaves that countinue to fall from the oak trees.

I squat down, pick up one of the leaves and rub it in between my thumb and pointer finger. It is soft to the touch, the wet soil on it falling off and landing on my fingers. I throw the leaf down and make my way to my car, my feet crunching the brown leaves beneath me.

When I am in the warm space of my car, it begins to rain. The hard pitter patter bangs against my car loudly and it makes the pressure in my head begin to build up. I groan and bang my head against the steering wheel.

Think, Sutter. You have to think. If you were Ralph, where would you go?

The little light bulb in my head goes off and I reach into my backpack that rest on the passenger seat to pull out my phone. The bright light illuminates the darkness that surrounds me as I press on the google search bar. I quickly type in Beverly Hills Zoo and Garden and the location and picture comes up.

Right under the time that says permanently closed is the address, 783 Brunswick Rd. I type the address into my maps and pull out of the rocky, cobblestone driveway. I can hardly see the road due to the heavy raindrops that fall from the dark sky, so I drive slow, making anxiety and anticipation build up in the pit of my stomach.

Lighting flashes through the sky, illuminating the darkness and thunder follows right after it.

     "Shit," I curse as I take a sharp left turn that jerks my whole body to the side.

     "You have arrived at your destination," says the little, stupid British voice on my phone. I can't see anything for a long time as I drive down a narrow pathway surrounded by trees and outgrown weeds. But then, hidden away by vines and trees, is a gigantic house. It would have looked nice if it weren't for the ugly, old brown color and dusty windows.

Is this the place?

A flash of color catches my eyes. Red roses are growing in a huddle in the front of the house, a riot of red and green against the rest of the dark, dull colors. I whip out my phone and my hands shake as I dial nine one one.

     "Nine one one, what is your emergency?" a sweet woman's voice ask from the other line.

      "I'm Sutter Canton and I have found the house that Blaire Hawthorn is being held hostage in," my voice comes out hoarse and shaky as I wipe my palms on my jeans.

      "I'm sorry, Sutter, but Blaire Hawthorn passed away a few weeks ago," she says.

     "No, it was a lie. It was all a lie. She's alive and she's in this house. I need the police, now!" I say urgently. I impatiently tap my foot against the brake. My headlights dim down until they go off completely, everything in front of me becoming dark.

     "Okay," there is a long pause on the other end. "Please tell me the address." Oh thank god, she believed me.

     "783 Brunswick Rd."

     "The Beverly Hills Zoo? That was torn down years ago," she says and I roll my eyes, fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist. This is for Blaire.

     "I know, but there is a house if you drive down a really narrow pathway. Please, can you just tell the police to come," I beg and I hear her deep in take of breath.

     "I have already called them, they will be there in ten minutes. Just where you are, Mr. Canton. Do not go in that house."

Ten minutes?

     "Okay," I murmur dryly before the line goes dead. I can't sit in here for ten minutes, that is too long to wait when I know Blaire is less than fifty feet away. I have no other choice, I have to go in there. I step out of the car, into the pouring rain, and make my way to the house.

_______________

please don't forget to vote and comment! thanks for reading! sorry for errors, will edit this later!

-jayymckenziee