OBSESSED

66

To my horror, it was just barely out of reach.

That fucking bastard. I ran to the kitchen to grab a barstool and carried it back, forgetting my sore bloody foot.

I climbed onto the stool and managed to get the key into the lock. As soon as the lock disengaged, I scrambled off the stool, shoved it away and yanked the door open.

A bitter cold wind slammed into me and threw the door open. Without a second thought, I charged outside.

"Help!" I screamed, sprinting down the stairs.

My eyes lifted from the ground and I noticed there weren't any houses or street lamps or even other lights from nearby.

Where were the neighbors? Other cars? Even a far-off streetlight to show me where the next closest person lived?

My stomach felt like a bowling ball inside me, gravity pulling on it as hard as it could. No one was going to find me.

Shaking my head, I continued yelling for help as I limped across the jagged gravel driveway to the Maserati. The doors were locked, of course.

I was not going back in that house, so it looked like I would be hoofing it.

Rubbing my arms against the freezing wind, I charged out to the road and chose a random direction to go. I called for help until my throat hurt and I was too cold to open my mouth.

I couldn't stop shivering. My legs and arms were unprotected and the shirt and boxers I did have were thin.

The road wandered up and down and around a mountain. I believed I had chosen the wrong way—the longest way—but I had no way to be sure.

Now that I was away from Jarrod and I felt mildly like I might be dying, something broke in my brain and all of the survival instincts that had been guiding me flooded with emotion.

Tears gathered in my eyes. I had actually believed Jarrod. For so long, I was willing to give him chance after chance.

Even after he'd kidnapped me, I still thought there was something there to protect. I didn't want to turn him over to the police.

Now, they could have him. He killed Anne and God knows who else.

Would he have ever taken me home?

I cried loud and ugly at the thought that I might have ended up in a ditch somewhere beside Anne.

Weakness took over me and I couldn't feel myself anymore, probably from the cold.

I stumbled forward and landed on my knees. My tears dribbled onto the gravel.

Jarrod would never have to kill me because I was about to die out here. I curled into a ball, tucking my knees under my chin, and sobbed myself into a stupor.

There was a good chance I would've never made it any further except that a car horn in the distance startled me.

I lifted my head. I didn't see headlights from here but I could see one bright light source like a street light.

Someone had to be close.

My body protested each motion I took to stand again. I trudged forward, the adrenaline pumping through me again.

The gravel turned to asphalt and something about that sent a wave of hope through me. I pushed on and on, compelled by something when I couldn't even feel my feet or face.

Some amount of time passed when headlights did appear.

I ran towards them, wildly waving my arms. I didn't care who it was. I didn't care what I looked like.