Taken by fate

Chapter 27

"Good morning, beautiful."
"Morning." I mumbled, still half asleep. Snuggling into the pillow more, wanting to go back to sleep.
"I've got to go do a job and then I'm going to stop by that hardware store."
"Mmm hmm."
"Go back to sleep, I'll be home later." Kissing my forehead before I felt the weight shift as you got out of bed.
Be home later.
The plan.
You are leaving now.
Jumping up wide awake, pushing the covers away. Alone in the room, hearing a cabinet door open in the kitchen.
This was too soon, I needed more time.
Limbs frozen in shock not wanting to move even though I wanted to go into the kitchen, make myself a drink just so I could talk to you one last time. Yet I wouldn't move, couldn't.
Getting you out of the house was the first step and now I didn't have to worry about that.
This was my sign to leave, my plan already in motion even though I was not ready to go.
If I went into the kitchen now you would know something was up, being able to read my face, to know that I was worrying about something.
There was no way I could risk that.
Right?
Stop!
Going home was the right thing to do, this is what I needed to do. For my parents, for myself. That was where I belonged, where I should have been this entire time
As soon as I heard the front door close that was when my body decided to go into motion, making it to the dresser in two long strides.
Leaning down, yanking the drawer open revealing the outfit I had been wearing that day.
Pulling out my long sleeve baby blue v neck lifting it up to my nose. Fresh, clean, but the scent from my laundry detergent was gone. Of course it was knowing they had been washed though it was strange that they didn't even have your woodsy outdoor scent on them.
Next I pulled out my bra, underwear, and socks. Standing up, slipping my underwear on first. The elastic stretching around my hips, ignoring the strange feeling of the cotton clinging to my crotch after going so long without any.
My bra was next, grabbing hold of the collar, pulling the shirt I was wearing over my head and dropping it onto the floor, reaching around to clip the bra behind my back before slipping my arms into the straps.
Stepping into the legs of my dark blue jeans pulling them up realizing as I buttoned them that they now hung loose around my waist.
So I have lost weight.
Not enough to notice or to say that I was starving but these pants had always been a little snug, usually sitting right under my belly button. Now I could fit both my hands in with no problem.
Putting on my shirt then my socks and shoes tying bows into place before pulling my boot cut jeans over. The bottom backs of both legs were worn down and frayed from constantly walking on them since they were too long.
Knowing that I should be happy that I was wearing my own clothes again but they just didn't feel right. Fabric clinging to me everywhere riding against my skin, they felt claustrophobic.
Using my foot to scoot the drawer shut. Pacing around the room, the cotton from my panties riding further up my ass cheeks with every step. Though I guess that was the point they were cheeksters after all.
Fixing the v neck so that it was centered pulling the sleeves over my wrists.
"I'm going home."
My words came out in breaths and I wasn't sure whether I was more excited or terrified.
Seeing the crumpled flannel on the floor, picking it up trying to fold it mid air but it wasn't working so I laid it out on the bed straightened out the sleeves folding the shirt making sure that the cuffs matched before folding the sleeves over making a rectangle that I then folded three times.
Better.
I was stalling, I knew that.
Trying to figure out a way to say goodbye, not wanting for you to come back to an empty house.
You deserved better than that.
Noticing your sketchbook hanging off the top shelf in your closet.
That was perfect!
Going over reaching up, my fingers barely grazing the edge, standing on my tiptoes hooking my finger on the side pulling it down. The pencil that was inside tumbling out rolling on the floor reaching down to pick it up. Taking the items to the bed as I sat down, opening to a fresh page.
The blank paper looking back at me, waiting.
Dear Eli,
I love you.
No.
I'm sorry, but I'm going home. Goodbye.
No.
I need to see my parents, I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.
Ugh. Why was this so hard?
Maybe I should just make it plain and simple and just write goodbye, but that didn't seem right either.
Stepping away from the book, walking across the room trying to gather my thoughts. Going over everything that's happened, everything that's changed since I've been here.
Looking around your empty room. Only the bare necessities, nothing more. How it didn't even look lived in, besides the bed that was never made and the bit of clothes in the closet.
Twirling the pencil in between my fingers.
You always said that you didn't need much and yet here I was.
Heading back over to the bed settling the book into my lap, I began writing. 
Once I started I didn't want to stop.
Filling an entire page.
Wanting to write more but making myself stop. There wasn't much time. I had no idea how long your job would take you, when you would be coming back and I needed to leave.
Reading over the note knowing that every bit of it was the truth. Putting the pencil in, bookmarking the page.
Unconsciously running my fingers over the necklace.
Reaching back, unclasping the chain.
My neck felt bare now that I wasn't wearing it, since I haven't taken it off since you placed it on me.
The shape twirling and catching the light.
Placing it down on top of my words, closing the book, laying it on top of the flannel that sat at the edge of the bed.
Hopefully you will find it.
Hopefully when you read it you'll understand.
Or I guess I should say to have a better understanding since I still couldn't get all my own thoughts in line. At least it was something, an explanation for me leaving.
This was it.
I was finally going home after all this time.
Walking out of your room, down the hall, not stopping.
If I stopped I was afraid that I wouldn't go.
That I would talk myself out of it.
So I kept on going.
Lifting the latch on the gate walking through. The wood hitting my back as the metal latch clicked into place.
Heart beat thumping so fast. Why was I so scared? Mouth dry, sweat rolling down my forehead. This was definitely not long sleeve weather, pulling my sleeves up as far as they would go.
No turning back.
Focusing on my breathing as I walked to the sidewalk.
This was just a normal day and I was just out for a normal walk.
Every sound seemed to be amplified.
The birds chirping were so loud as if they were right next to me, on my shoulder even croaking right into my ears. The wind blowing sounded more like static, even my footsteps seemed to echo.
Just a normal day, out for a walk. Just act like everything is ok.
Scanning the houses in front of me.
Was there anyone looking out their windows?
Were they paying enough attention to recognize who I was?
Leaning my head forward, shadowing my face, pulling my hair around letting it cover me even more.
I didn't recognize any of the street names, nothing seemed familiar.
Just keep walking.
Everything was going to be ok.
An engine rifling behind me, stiffening my shoulders forcing my feet to keep on moving.
Was that you? Did you find me already?
A red sedan driving past. Letting out the air that I had been holding.
Watching as they turned left at the stop sign.
Was that the way out?
Deciding to follow their lead. Unable to see any main roads from any direction when I got to the intersection.
Soon I would see my parents again. Be able to hug them and talk to them. My mom would probably call Amara and let her know that I was safe and at home.
Finally home.
They would have questions.
Of course they would, that was understandable, though I wouldn't answer any of them. I wouldn't be able to. Feigning memory loss.
That was a thing that happened with traumatic events, wasn't it? That would be believable and maybe no one would try to push me on that though everyone would want answers.
Where have I been? What happened to me? Who took me? Why was I still wearing the same clothes and why were they clean?
The sun was beating down on my head, it was hot outside, about ninety degrees I would say. Definitely shorts weather. Missing the flannel shirts, all my clothes sticking to my sweating body. Pinching my shirt away from my skin to give myself some air, sweat lines were already forming.
Not far enough away to ask for help. I needed to find a store or something, somewhere that I could go inside and make a phone call.
This neighborhood seemed to be never ending.
House after house they seemed to blur together all looking the same. I never even looked back when I left, didn't even know what the front of the house looked like. What the front door looked like from the outside.
At least that wouldn't be something I was going to lie about. Even though I could close my eyes right now and picture every room, the backyard, your room, my room, the living room and kitchen as well as the basement, perfectly.
Oh I could definitely picture the basement. Shivering as I opened my eyes back up.
Knowing that if I explained that room to a sketch artist I would be able to get it down to the last crack in the wall.
Sounds of multiple engines, I was getting closer to the main road.
Pulse pounding in my neck as my stomach dropped.
What was I going to say?
How was I going to explain how I got there?
Suddenly I needed to pee so bad that I had to stop walking and cross my legs together thinking that I should have done that before I left. Too late now. Besides, it was probably just my nerves working against me.
Once I was able to stand up straight without the fear of my pee running down my legs I continued on.
Should I call nine one one first? Or my mom or my dad?
Nine one one was probably the answer that I should go with but I didn't want to. They had their chance to find me and they blew it. Now I was just going to hand myself over on a silver platter. No.
If I called one of my parents would they both be there on the other line waiting, anxious to hear my voice. Knowing that it was about mid day now. Was dad at work? Maybe mom was the better option, she was usually at home after all.
Buildings started coming into view, a McDonald's was on the corner there were more office like buildings as well. One caught my eyes because the entire thing was made of windows and as the sun hit against the side it almost made the building disappear. Tall and skinny, looking out of place along the rest of the regular sized, older buildings around it.
Noticing the gas station across the street. Perfect. Looking both ways, waiting for the cars to stop coming before I walked over.
Hands clammy, pressing my fingers down my thumbs, nerves rising.
An elderly man came out of the door, dressed in long tan slacks with a white polo shirt and sneakers. His hair was gray, blading at the top, wearing glasses, his skin was wrinkled but tanned.
Seeing me he smiled and held the door for me to walk through.
Nodding my head towards him thanking him as I passed, though I wasn't sure if I returned the smile.
Inside was only slightly cooler, the air was dusty. A tiny tv hung from the ceiling in the top corner above the cashier's counter, muted sound but it looked to have been a news channel.
Was my picture ever up there?
Rows of junk food took up the floor space, chips, candy. Sodas were in the refrigerators to my right and further along on the back wall was a slushie machine. Cherry and blue rasberry, the flavors of choice. Watching them twist around in their containers.
"If you're gonna steal something you should figure what you want before you come in the store."
A girl about my age appeared at my side.
"I wasn't going to steal."
"That's what they all say, and yet everyone does." Checking over her shoulder watching the person behind the counter as she stashed some granola bars into her backpack. The only place she had since both her shorts and her tank top were tight fitting. Her long blond hair bound in a loose braid hanging over her shoulder. It looked as if it had been like that for a while because there were long strands that were out around her face.
Her shoes were dirty, holes along the sides. How long has she been wearing them?
"So many people do it he doesn't even care anymore." Rolling her eyes as she brought her attention back to me. "You're new. Haven't seen you around here. If you want you can hang with me, I can teach you some of the tricks."
"Tricks?"
Cocking her head to the side, light brown eyes slowly looking down then back up, checking me over. Skin was dark, almost the same color as the bag of pretzels that sat next to her on the shelf. Was everyone tan or was I just pale?
"People only come in here when they need something. Food, money, to escape from the sun. I saw you, before you came in. Hesitant. So what exactly did you come in here for?"
"I just need to make a phone call."
Scoffing. "Guess I was wrong about you." Turning away from me, stopping when she was halfway out the door. Looking at me over her shoulder. "Goodluck."
Then she was gone, disappearing past the corner of the building.
That was strange.
Heading up to the counter. The guy behind it was reading a newspaper, the large pages covering his face.
Standing there for a long minute before I decided to cough to get his attention.
"What, you actually going to buy something?" Sounding surprised as he put the paper down, hopping off the stool. "You're not going to be like your friend who...."
Then he stopped, eyes growing wide as he faced me. Holding up one hand as if motioning me to stay but not saying anything as he bent behind the counter. I could hear papers shuffling around the distinct sound of the large paper as the corners bent from being moved too fast. What was he doing back there, looking around, rubbing my soaked palms down the thighs of my jeans. I really needed the phone, just as I was about to say something he shot up another newspaper in his hands. How many did he have back there?
"Umm, hi." My voice was hesitant, not really sure if he was actually in his right mind or not. "Could I borrow your phone? I really need to call someone."
Smacking the paper flat down on the counter, is hand covering a large portion, blocking most of the words.
"Are you Sarah?"
Frozen, not really sure what to say, weirded out by how this man knew my name. Wasn't that a good thing though, I hoped.
When I didn't answer he lifted the hand he had planted on the counter pointing straight to a picture.
Eyes following, seeing the words but not reading them. He wasn't pointing at them anyways.
My face in black and white.
Gulping as I read the headline.
Girl missing.
Seventeen year old Sarah Wilson was last known to be walking to her bus stop the morning of March 11th.
Her bus driver claims that no one was waiting at the stop when they arrived. None of the neighbors have claimed to see or hear anything from that morning.
Sarah Wilson is five foot six, long light honey auburn hair, blue, green eyes, average build.
If you have any information at all please call.
The date of the article was two days after I went missing.
Staring at the printed words.
At my picture recognizing it as my last year's school yearbook picture. My body slightly turned to the side, my head lifted up, eyes bright, and a big smile. The photographer kept on giving me adjustments and I had followed everyone, making sure that he had the best angle before he snapped the picture and the lights flashed.
The guy behind the counter was rattling off an address telling someone to get here quickly. Knowing that he had called the police, knowing that they would be here soon.
"Can I make a phone call, please." Tearing my eyes away, tears in my eyes as I looked up at him.
He looked taken back like he wasn't sure what to do at this point. As if I was a wild animal in his store, watching me, waiting for me to attack or destroy something. Which I was thinking about doing if he didn't give me the phone.
"Please?!" I tried again.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, kid. Some people are coming to help you, you just gotta wait."
Wait, there was that word again, but I was tired of waiting. Anger building up inside, curling my toes as my legs tensed up, hands shaking as I kept them open. Trying to stay calm but why should I? Why did this man think that he could just refuse me a phone call? He knew that I was missing, that I've been gone for a long time. Who did he think that I was going to call?
"Take it easy kid."
So he could see that I was pissed. Good.
"All I want to do is call my parents. Will you please just let me do that!?"
Hearing my voice rise, the whine in my tone amplifying.
"What's the number, I'll call them for you."
At that moment all I wanted to do was scream.
So I did.
Loud and strong and long. Hearing it echo as it bounced off the walls of the tiny convenience shop. Tears bursting down my face as snot bubbled out of my nose knowing that none of it looked pretty but I didn't care. Crossing my arms over my chest holding myself as I bent over completely out of breath. Though I had to admit that I did feel a little better.
Looking up to see that he had backed away, his body almost pressed against the shelf's of cigarettes looking as if he was about to shit his pants.
Then that made me laugh. Uncontrollably.
Shoulders bouncing, chest burning as I laughed so hard that no sound came out. Chest burning, I needed air but I couldn't stop. My emotions, running on overdrive.
Scared that I was going to pass out right there on the floor from lack of oxygen. That I would be out cold when the cops arrived and once again I would wake up in a place that I didn't know.
Hyperventilating.
The corners of my vision going dark.
No!
I wasn't going to let that happen, not now.
Then I heard your voice. Telling me to breathe. Your soft coos that you did when I was over worked like this.
Somehow I was able to catch a full breath.
Hearing your voice in my ear as I closed my eyes.
'Breath, just breathe.'
Letting my body fall to the ground knowing that you would catch me.
Knees hitting hard cracking against the tile, opening my eyes hurriedly looking aground. Searching. But you weren't there. You hadn't been there.
Hugging my knees to my chest as I heard the police sirens wailing, getting louder. Flashing lights, blue and red shining through the window.
They were finally here.

Want to find out what happens next? Go to my profile to read the next book in this trilogy. Stolen love.