Brook’s voice had grown strong and was surprisingly clear, considering all the screaming she had done. Her words pealed through the house.
She sang the song that was played at all the funerals within her family. The song that said goodbye to loved ones. She didn’t believe her body would ever be found and she wanted to go to her Maker with the blessed words.
“Shut the fuck up, you’re creeping me out.” Gina backed towards the closet.
Jase burst through the door. “What the fuck’s going on? What the hell is that? Shut your fucking mouth, you bitch.”
Brook looked heavenward and continued to sing, taking no notice of Jase.
Jase backhanded her, cutting off the words. “I said, shut the fuck up.”
Brook placed a hand to her bleeding mouth and smiled a soft sad smile. What was there to lose? They were going to kill her anyway. Boldly, she began the chorus.
Jase stared in disbelief. “Fuck this shit, I’m outta here. Just have her ready when we get back, Gina. You’ve got your gun. If she tries anything, blow her fucking head off.”
Jase and Gina left the room as Brook finished her song. Soon, Brook heard the front door slam. She sat quietly, awaiting the end as silence fell over the house. She was determined to meet her death with dignity.
Time passed. Brook found herself listening intently. With a flicker of hope she began to throw off her lethargy. Maybe she
But, even as she thought this she heard footfalls in the hall. The door opened and Gina entered. She was in a real snit. “Get up, whore,” she commanded, her eyes shining with hatred. “Now!” she yelled when Brook failed to move. “You just couldn’t keep your hands off my boyfriend, could you?” Gina paced back and forth. “Just had to fuck every last dude here like some kind of nympho. I’m sick of you. You deserve everything you’re gonna get. I don’t feel sorry for you at all.” She nudged Brook with her foot a few times, and then kicked her in the side for good measure.
Brook groaned and climbed unsteadily to her feet. She wouldn’t be able to escape after all. Despair stole what little energy she had.
“That’s right, get your sorry ass up, you pathetic piece of shit.”
Gina pulled a joint from her shirt pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply several times, blowing the smoke in Brook’s face. Her angry tone mellowed. “Want a hit?” She offered Brook a drag, but Brook shook her head. “Suit yourself.” Gina stared dispassionately at Brook who stood with shoulders slumped and arms crossed in front of her body in an attempt to cover her nakedness.
“You got to take a shower so the guys can take you out and kill you,” Gina explained in a mild voice, as if she were saying the guys were going to take Brook to a movie. “But first, I have to get you some clothes.” She took a long toke from the joint, pinched the fire from the end, and stuck the roach back in her pocket. Turning her back on Brook, she opened the closet door and began poking around on the shelves.
Brook saw red. Just like that, her life was going to end. Just like that, they were going to clean her up and kill her. Inside, her soul cried out at the injustice of it all; her entire being rose up in a tidal wave of outrage. She lowered her head and charged Gina, taking the girl totally by surprise, bashing her into the rear of the closet, and tumbling her to the floor. Brook slammed the door closed, grabbed the wooden chair, and jammed it under the doorknob.
Almost immediately, Gina began pounding on the door and rattling the knob. The small space muffled her furious yells. Turning, Brook ran. She entered the living room, and slid to a stop. There on an end table sat her purse. Brook grabbed it, flung open the front door, and bolted outside. The cold air assaulted her senses but she didn’t slow, didn't even notice the pine needles and twigs that sliced at the soles of her bare feet. She ran to the first car she saw and slid into the driver’s seat. No keys. Sobbing, Brook tumbled out, falling to her knees. She regained her footing, slipped on wet leaves but remained upright, rushed to the only other car in the drive, and peered through the window. There, shining like a lighthouse beacon guiding lost sailors safely to shore was a key chain with the ignition key nestled in the slot. Jumping into the car, she twisted the key. The motor roared to life and Brook slammed the car into gear just as a shot rang out, issuing from within the house. Brook stomped on the gas pedal. As the car careened down the drive, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Gina burst out the front door, screaming for her to stop. She saw Gina raise her arm, and heard gunshots. Brook accelerated as Gina fired several times, showering the car with bark as the slugs missed the vehicle and slammed into nearby trees. The car roared down a driveway that was nothing but two bumpy ruts tunneling through close-growing trees and brush. Brook finally reached the end of the long drive, turned onto the road, and sped away from the house of torture. She realized she had been screaming, “yes, yes, yes” repeatedly and stopped herself. But she didn’t feel safe yet. There was another car and Gina might be following her already. Brook kept checking the road behind her, but no one appeared.
The day was turning dark already. Brook found the headlight controls but decided not to turn them on until she absolutely had to. Shivering from cold and terror, she flipped on the heater. Moments later, satisfying warmth began to flow over her naked body. At the first road she came to, Brook turned right. She used this strategy, turning first left, then right, and then left again until side roads disappeared and she could turn no more. The road was becoming narrower and steeper as it wound higher into the mountains. Ruts filled with water impeded her progress and she had to go slower than she wanted. But still, she was moving further away from her captors; or so she prayed. She had no idea where the men had gone or from which direction they would return; hopefully it would not be along this road.
Brook abruptly remembered the cell phone in her purse. She could get help now. She slowed, pulled the phone out, dialed 911, and held it to her ear. Nothing. Moving the phone from her ear, she fumbled and it slipped from her hand and fell to the seat. She swore in frustration. Snatching the phone up again, she discovered the screen was black and pressed the power button, but still nothing happened. The battery was dead. Brook threw the phone against the window and it bounced back and hit her in the shoulder. Cursing, she sped up.
After an hour, the darkness was complete and Brook drove with headlights beaming ahead. The road was muddy and slick from yesterday’s rain, and dotted with jutting stones. She hoped she would not tear something off the bottom of the car and find herself stranded. Trees loomed on either side before suddenly giving way to deep ravines; there were no guardrails in the wilderness. The initial rush of escaping was over, and her adrenaline drained away. Brook drove slower, growing sleepy, seeking shelter and someone to help her.
Blinking with drowsiness, Brook barely had time to react when a deer stepped into the road in front of her. Wrenching the steering wheel hard to the left, she inadvertently set the car into a spin, missing the deer by inches
