The Tombstone

Tombstone

The van was rocked back and forth from the bumps that lied on the Tompton roads. The cemetery was coming into view now, as the large gates rose from the trees ahead. And the metal sign that was hung above the gates. The squeaks from the gates came belching towards them as the gravel road hit the van. And then they came to a stop. In park. The gates stood a few feet away, and they did not move closer into the cemetery. Not like the last night Steph was in the van. No. They parked right outside of the cemetery, near the gates.
This is it. You have another chance. You have another chance to run. To escape. Get out Stephanie! Get out of this van! Open the door and just run! Or when he isn't looking, just run for the hills as fast as you can and don't look back. Do it, and do it soon!
Her hands began to feel clammy as her heart raced faster than time. Butterflies rose in her stomach, the way they always fluttered when she was getting close to escaping.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
She tried to stay calm as she slowly grabbed for the door handle while he was reaching for something in his pocket. She remained looking forward as she felt for the handle, and then slowly pulling it. Very gently, with slow and delicate hands, she continued to pull the small, cold handle.
*Ding**Ding*
The car went off, indicating someone had opened the door. She paused in her shoes as her stomach dropped, knowing that she had been caught. And in an instant, he rammed her back into her seat in one quick motion. A knife was in his hand, which he held and pushed a bit into her throat with a tight grip. His face angry as he stared from the side of her face. His gaze feeling hot as it felt like it was burning her skin.
"What. Did. I. Say?!" He whispered more in a sharp tone as he pushed the knife deeper to her throat. Feeling as if it could split open at any moment. She raised her head higher, trying to get away from the grip. She shut her eyes and squeezed them shut, hoping it would all be over soon. "You listen to me girl! How many times do I have to say it?! How many times do I have to repeat myself until you understand?! Until you get it through your thick head! There is no escaping! There is no way out! You are with me and you are staying here! I don't think you understand that I will use this knife or gun if you do try to escape! Or if you do escape, I will find you Stephanie! I will! I found you once, you can damn bet I will find you again! There is no escaping me!" He yelled in her left ear as he leaned closer to her. His breath molding onto her.
What did that mean? What did he mean by he found me?
Her mind went haywire as his last sentences came spilling from the hole he called a mouth. A single tear came rushing down her cheek as another thought occurred.
Would he really kill me though? He said if I tried to escape he would kill me the first day, but this was the second time I got out and tried to run, and nothing came of it. Not that I'm complaining, but is he just bluffing? Would he do it? I don't want find out though, I'm not that brave or ruthless.

He slowly removed the knife after they sat there staring for awhile at each other. Both sets of eyes looking dead, one looking scared, terrified and shocked with horror, and the other looking dominant. But both having the same shape and colour, and an odd colour at that; a wheat gold. They both went back to there old positions as he put the switch blade back into his pocket. "Alright Steph, I'm going to need your help," he spoke, not letting her answer as he opened his door quickly and exited. As the door slammed shut, Steph sat there for a moment watching, looking at what he was doing. He went around to the back of the dark van, and with one jolt opened the back doors.
The back where I was last time. What's back there? Is there another girl? Please say no! No! I don't want there to be. I don't want there to be! Maybe it's just some flowers that he's planting somewhere in the cemetery. Maybe that's what he was doing that night. Maybe he was planting flowers around graves and in between. Maybe that girl I thought I saw before was only a hallucination. Maybe I just imagined I saw her. Besides, I only saw her for a split second before I was thrown into the back, maybe I was just a blanket or the flower beds but were arranged in a certain way and I only imagined it was a girl. Yeah, that could be it. It could have been something else that I just mistook for a girl. Yes, that's probably what it was!
Steph was startled and brought out of her daze as her side door was yanked open and he pulled her out with such force. "Come on!" He shouted as she fell onto the gravel ground. Thankful she had her sweater and sweatpants on, for if she didn't she would have most definitely scrapped up her legs pretty good. As he shut the door behind her he yanked her to her feet as he lead her towards the back of the van.
"What are we doing?" She whispered behind herself towards him as they continued to walk.
"You'll see."
And as they came upon the back of the van, the doors were propped open, and there lied another helpless, and vulnerable girl.
No! This was what I saw! No! This can't be happening! Please! No!
Steph began to shake a bit as she focused on the girls motionless body, looking for any chance of life. Those butterflies began to rise and fall again as her nerves returned. And the grief, oh the grief returning as well. She swallowed hard before moving closer towards the open van, placing a shaky hand towards the girls neck, hoping, checking for a pulse she so helplessly wanted. "There's no need for that. She's dead," he spoke in a voice Stephanie was surprised by. The voice appeared to be normal. No sympathy, pain or grief at all. He spoke in a voice you would talk to anyone by. An everyday voice. A haunting voice at that.
No! Why does this have to happen? Why is this happening? Where was she all this time? Where was she when I was upstairs being treat what looks to be so much nicer than this.
The girl appeared to be no more than twelve years old. Her braces, still cemented on. Her long, dark hair spiralled all around her, looking like a mess. Red marks wrapped around her ankles and wrists, looking as if she had been tied up. Or chained up. That very thought sent a chill up Steph's spine.
I wonder what this girl was like. This little girl who died too soon. Who was killed. Killed by a crazy man. By a psychotic man. I wonder where she went to school. How many friends she had. What her hobbies were. What she liked to do. What her family was like. What she was like.
Where was she kept? Where was she kept when I was being treated nicer than her. Perhaps in the basement? If such a place existed in that cabin. Why was she in chains? Or tied up all the time? Or bound? Why was she treated like that when I have been treated differently. Why? Why is this happening? Why is he doing this?
Or, perhaps this girl was treated like me. Perhaps she had been in the cabin for awhile. Perhaps there were other rooms in the basement that were like mine. Perhaps he treated us all the same. Perhaps she had been there much longer than I had. And perhaps this will happen to me soon. Or one day. No! That can't happen! I don't want it to! I won't let it! But what can I do? Escape! That's what you can do!