In an effort to distract myself, I focused on the fact that if I did disappear, they will blame SeƱor Prick, since he was the last person anyone saw me with. Then he would have to spend the rest of his life in jail thinking about how he could have saved my life. That was the least he deserved if I died right now. I’d be dead and eaten, what did I care if he was wrongly accused? I’m not bitter or anything.
The sounds of the car grew closer, and I heard the beat of the music playing from inside. I started walking faster, not paying attention to the fact that my suitcase was like a big yellow flag screaming ‘look at me.’ I heard the car tires hit the gravel behind me, as it pulled to the side and slowed down. It was close—too close for comfort if I had to be honest. This wasn’t looking good. I hope they at least put a good picture of me on the missing person posters, not my god-awful high school graduation picture like they tended to use on those things. The profile picture on my Instagram would be my first choice, I hope someone suggests that to them. I heard the car stop, and the window squeak as it rolled down, before a deep voice called out.
“Hey, do you need some help?”
I kept walking, not wanting to make it easier than it would already be for him to kill me. I really hoped he wasn’t a sadist, choosing to prolong my death by torturing me and hope he just kills me quickly. I really didn’t think I could survive torture, even papercuts made me cry. I kept walking, picking up the pace once more so I was practically running away. Behind me I heard the dinging sound a car makes when the door is opened, and the car is still running. Great, he was getting out. Now he was going to chase me. Yes, I kept myself in shape, but to be honest, the only running I ever did was when I was late for class, and that usually ended with me being bent over wheezing. My situation was quickly going from bad to worse.
“Hey, I know you can hear me. I won’t hurt you; I just don’t feel comfortable leaving a female on the side of the road. Can I give you a ride somewhere?” The voice behind me asked. I snorted at his statement before yelling back over my shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure all serial killers want you to believe they won’t hurt you. Then they chop you up and leave you in the mountains for bears to eat. No, thank you, I don’t plan on being bear food today!”
Suddenly, a deep laugh rang out behind me. I stopped, was he laughing at me? What kind of serial killer did that? Isn’t he supposed to be chasing me? Maybe he doesn’t want to exert the energy yet to chase me? Or maybe this is all part of his sick twisted game. His laughter continued behind me as my annoyance ticked up a notch. What. The. Hell. Hands on my hips, I spun around to tell him off, only to stare into a very familiar, and very unwelcome face.
Casually standing in front of me, with his thumbs hooked in his jean pockets as he relaxed back against the hood of his black SUV was none other than Brayden Montgomery. Fucking Brayden.
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