Away. Part 6

"Thanks, but I can't. I have to find her." I go to leave again but she has a steady grip on me. I'm so tired I can't even fight off an old lady.

"Jack McGowan means his daughter no harm," Dolly tells me. "He does love her. I'm not saying that she isn't in danger, but I'm saying that you can't rescue her on no sleep and no fuel. Sleep for a bit and then leave early in the morning."

"I have to find her," I say, and I hate how my voice wavers. This is important. I have to be strong.

"You'll find her. Jack isn't going anywhere once he stops for the night. If you leave early enough, you can catch up." Before I know what's happening Dolly is dragging me to the stairs, pulling me up them and pushing me onto a kitchen chair that's in her clean, orderly apartment, one that looks like a room straight out of the 1970's complete with doilies, floral wallpaper and s.h.a.g carpet. She goes into her bedroom for a minute and I gaze at the kitchen tile dully. It's starting to peel away in places.

"I called the police and they're looking for her as we speak," Dolly tells me. "They might even find her before you do."

"He better hope they do. You know, you don't have to do this. You don't know me," I protest. I put my arms on the table and watch as the room begins to spin. I'm seeing two of everything.

"Nonsense. Anybody who cares about Rosemary this much is a friend of mine. I love that little girl." Dolly's bustling around her kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove and warming up something in the microwave. She hands me a gla.s.s of water and sits down at the table with a cup of coffee, taking a slow sip. I start gulping my water and the burning in my throat subsides, giving me a bit of relief. After a minute I look at her and ask, "Do you really believe that?" I set my gla.s.s down and look at her. "Do you really think that Jack wouldn't do anything to harm Rosemary?"

Dolly hesitates. "Not on purpose."

I freeze. "What do you mean?"

She closes her eyes. "Years ago, Jack was waiting here to see Rosemary, but her mother never dropped her off. Apparently this wasn't the first time she had done this. When the man supervising the visit told Jack he had to leave, he went ballistic. He punched the man in the face so hard it knocked him out. He started flipping over tables, breaking chairs. The cooks in the back had to restrain him. A few people ended up getting hurt. The police came and he went to jail for a few months. He paid for all the damages and apologized over and over again later, so it was obvious he regretted it."

"What?" I leap up, and the room shakes as if there was an earthquake. "Then I can't leave Rosemary with him!"

"Young man, sit down!" Dolly demands, and she leaps up as well.

"You don't understand. If there's even the slightest chance that he could go off on her, there's no time to waste," I protest.

"You don't want to anger Jack McGowan!" Dolly hisses, and she yanks me back down. "You're going to need all your strength if you're going to try and take his daughter away from him. He'll do whatever he can to stop you."

"He could be doing whatever he could to hurt her," I say, and I begin to shake. "The longer she stays with him the bigger chance..."

"Jack doesn't blow up like that very often," Dolly says slowly. "He's very patient. He never loses his temper, but when he does...yes, I'd say he was dangerous."

"But then what if Rosemary p.i.s.ses him off, and there's no tables or chairs to take it out on?" I insist.

"It'll take quite a lot to push Jack completely over the edge, and Rosemary's a smart girl," Dolly says. "She'll know better than to make her father angry."

I wasn't so sure. Rosemary was good at pushing people's b.u.t.tons, and sometimes she just didn't know when to stop. If she was mad at her father and she wasn't completely sure what he was capable of, she would do things to purposefully make him angry. I knew she would.

"What I can't understand is why Rosemary didn't say anything to you," I say slowly. "What is he threatening her with? A weapon?"

"Did it ever occur to you that Rosemary might not want to be rescued?" Dolly asks, leaning forward.

"What? That's ridiculous," I say.

"Rosemary hasn't seen her father in years," Dolly says gently. "There might be something in her that misses him. Even if she doesn't want to be his prisoner, if there's a part of her that wants her father's attention she won't try as hard to escape."

"Absolutely not," I shake my head. "He kidnapped her. She has to be terrified right now. Whether she misses him or not, she knows that it's safer to stay away from him."

She doesn't say anything more. She gets up and pours me from the pot a large bowl of potato soup and grabs a few warm rolls from the microwave. "I expect you to eat all of it," she says sternly, gazing at me. "I'm going to bed, but I put a few pillows and a blanket on the couch for you. Don't worry about the dishes; I'll clean up in the morning."

She heads off to bed. I immediately dig into my soup, burning my tongue with the hotness of the liquid. It's thick and creamy on my tongue, tasting of cheese and soft potato, mixed with an array of vegetables and herbs. It's delicious. I finish that and the rolls off in minutes. When I have a full stomach I put my empty bowl in the sink and go to lay down on the couch.

I expect to drop off immediately, but my mind is racing. If Rosemary could've said something to Dolly in order to get away, why didn't she? She knew I was trying to rescue her. She couldn't not know. She knows I would do anything for her...right?

My mind repeats the fight. Did Rosemary take that as a breakup? I didn't think there was anything in this world I would ever leave Rosemary for, but even if there was an argument definitely wasn't one of them. But did that fight make her think I didn't care about her?

I take a ragged breath. And then there was the fact that she was with her father. She had seen him hit me, but had she been so angry and upset after our fight that she didn't care that I was hurt? No, no, that was a stupid idea. Rosemary hated her father, didn't she?

But then what if she didn't? It had been years since she had seen him. Was there something in her that longed for his affection, something that was big enough to make her stay? Could Dolly possibly be right? Did she not want to be found?

I shake my head at the ridiculous idea and punch my pillow into a more comfortable position. These pointless wonders wouldn't solve anything, not right now. My main priority was to get her back, and then I would ask her these annoying questions.

The thing was, I wasn't sure if I would like the answers.

I'm starting to doze off. The lights flicker in and out of my vision, glowing and narrowing as we whirl by signs and buildings, cars pa.s.sing us at a ridiculous rate.

"When are we going to stop?" I ask, turning my head slowly to look at Jack. I would fall asleep here but I cannot...I want to make sure I know my way home if I do manage to make it out of here.

"Soon," he says. "We're nearly there."

"There is no way that getting to Detroit takes this long," I say.

"We're not going to Detroit."

"That's what you told Dolly," I said, sitting up to look at him.

"I lied to her, Rose," Jack says. "If she finds out we're on the run and she alerts the police, they'll find us. We won't be in Detroit, we're stopping in Ann Arbor. It's close by and large enough that it'll take them all night to search every hotel, and by then we'll be long gone."

"Unfortunately." I let out a yawn and say, "We're going to Dearborn, aren't we? That's our final stop."

He doesn't look at me. "How did you guess?"

"It's the only home you've ever known." I pause. "And the only place that you ever had a home with me."

He scratches his beard. "How much do you remember about the divorce?"

"Not much." I shrug. "A few fights mostly."

"That's good," he says.

"Was it bad?" I ask, fully awake now. Mom never talked about the divorce, no matter how many times I asked her.

"It wasn't easy," he says. "It's probably a good thing that you don't remember much."

"I mostly remember the good times," I say. "Like going to the park with you."

"You still remember that?" He smiles.

"Every time. I remember that we always used to get ice cream afterward, and this one time this boy who was bigger than me stole my sundae when I wasn't looking," the story falls out of my mouth, trickles out like water about to burst forth from a dam. "You went to buy me another one but I said I didn't want that one..."

"So you pushed the little boy down and said you'd walk all the way home." Jack laughs, and unexpectedly out of my chest bursts a small chuckle.

"Oh my gosh, remember the time when the landlord came to the apartment and was all p.i.s.sed because we hadn't paid in three months?" I burst.

"Yes, and remember what we were wearing? We had gotten back from your grandpa's farm, and we were all covered in dirt and holes! He wrinkled up his nose an looked at us like we were wet dogs!"

"What did he say? Wasn't it something like, *I know your kind isn't very responsible, but I'll have to evict you if you don't pay soon."

"Something like that," Jack smiles. "What did I say back to him?"

"I remember! You said, *Sorrah that we be so behind on the rent meester, but we be po!'"

Now we're both in hysterics. I go to wipe the tears from my eyes until I think what am I doing? This man has kidnapped me. I shouldn't even be speaking to him, let alone sharing a laugh with them. Wiping the grin off my face, I say, "Well. You know, that was a long time ago. Things are a lot different now."

"They are," Jack says. There's a bit of silence before he asks, "So what are you studying in school?"

"Agricultural science," I say. "I want to work with something that involves farming, but I don't necessarily want to be a farmer."

"You always did love the outdoors, even when you were little," Jack says. "You'd never want to stay inside. It was always, *Daddy, take me to the park,' or, *Daddy, let's go play outside.'"

"I'm like that now. I can't stand being inside."

"I don't like the indoors either. I prefer being in the fresh air."

"I didn't know that." My hand flies to my necklace, the one Noah got me, and I grip it tight. Inwardly a small part of me that I thought died long ago starts glowing, but I snuff it out. "I love plants and nature. My favorite cla.s.s in high school was botany. I'm really good at growing things. Even green's my favorite color," I put in.

"I know that." Jack pauses. "When you were three, you told me green was your favorite color after I told you it was mine."

"Did I?" I ask. He nods and a sick feeling enters my stomach. His eyes glance to the necklace I'm still holding and he asks, "Who got that for you?"

I bite my lip. "Noah." Tears well up in my eyes. "The boy that you ran over."

Guilt crosses over his face. "I am so sorry Rose. I regret doing that, but he drove right in front of me. There was no time to stop or swerve."

"You can't say you're sorry now," I say, and all my anger and hate towards my father returns. "He's dead. You killed somebody I loved, and I will never forgive you for that."

"He's probably not dead, Rose," Jack says. "I hit him, but when I glanced behind in my rearview mirror he was still moving. He's probably just really banged up."

A spurt of hope rises up in me. Could Noah really be alive? "You're not lying, just to make me feel better?"

"I've never lied to you in my life Rose. Never. And if you want we can check on the Internet when we get to the hotel, to see there's any news."

The thought of Noah being alive and well was enough to make me start dancing. The bad thing was, it was even harder being mad at Jack now. "We'll see," I say as a final statement.

The minute we pull into the hotel and have our room, I rush down to the computer in the lobby downstairs. Jack hustles after me, at enough of a distance to give me s.p.a.ce but close enough so I know not to run. The minute I reach the computer I type my name in the search bar and start looking.

Immediately dozens of links pull up. I click on the first one and it's a lengthy article about my abduction and a description of my father. There's nothing about Noah. I scan article after article, all containing the same details with nothing about my boyfriend. My heart begins to sink. Then, out of nowhere, the words Noah Cash pop out at me from the last sentence of one article.

"Noah Cash, the boyfriend of Rosemary McGowan, was injured during the abduction," I read aloud in a whisper. "He is currently in the hospital with minor injuries, and doctors expect him to make a full recovery."

This article was dated two days ago. So it's true. Noah is alive. But now that I know this, my heart begins to sink. If Noah was alive and well, was he out there looking for me? Was he trying to get me back, or had he considered me lost and abandoned the whole idea, if it had ever crossed his mind? Had that one big fight been enough for him to give up on me completely?

"There. Are you satisfied?" Jack asks me. I nod and we head up to our room, me collapsing on my double bed the minute I reach it.

Noah was alive. Noah was alive. It was enough to make me sing. And with only minor injuries! I had gotten lucky. Now that I knew Noah was okay, I knew that I had to do my best to escape, to make it back to him and apologize. He must be worried out of his mind!

...Or was he? My stomach wriggled. If that fight wasn't enough to chase Noah away, perhaps my father hitting him with the car was. Maybe he finally realized how crazy the McGowan's were and had wised up enough to decide not to spend anymore time with them. Was he already moving on?

Jack closes the door shut behind him. I'm not sure. But now my desire to escape didn't just seem like a silly wish, it seemed like a priority. I couldn't fight off Jack, I knew that much. I would have to outwit him.

He brings out the handcuffs from his pocket and my heart sinks. Really? Would I have to do this? "I'm sorry Rose," he states. "But I don't want to take anymore chances." He takes my hand and fastens one cuff to my left wrist, and the other to the iron bedpost behind me.

"Why do you have to do this?" I ask him. "Why do you want to keep me locked up?"

"I don't want to make you my prisoner. But as of right now, I have no choice." Jack begins slowly taking things out of his bag, setting shampoo, lotion, and various other grooming items all on the side of the bed table that separates us.

"I'm going to take a shower. I won't be long," he tells me. He grabs many of the bottles and proceeds to the bathroom, shutting the door so slowly, it's torturous.

The minute he's out of sight I immediately begin pulling and yanking on the handcuffs, trying to break myself free. It's no good. They're the good kind, and what's more the bedpost is nailed to the wall. I'm not going anywhere. I try forcing my hand through the circle but it doesn't budge. I need something to make my hand slick enough to slide through.

I look around and notice that Jack had left a small bottle of lotion on the bedside table. My free hand strains to reach it, the metal digging and cutting into my skin and making my eyes water. My arms aren't long enough. Improvising, I lean back on the bed and use my foot to move the bottle of lotion close enough for me to s.n.a.t.c.h. I grab it and pour the lotion all over my hand excessively, slathering it all over my skin. Gritting my teeth, I begin to pull.

It feels like all the bones in my hand are mashing together. I get my hand halfway through the circle before it stops completely, and I put all of my weight into pulling the other way in order to force it out. I m.u.f.fle a cry of pain as my skin rips and starts to bleed, but I don't stop. The cuffs etch into my skin, leaving long red marks as I finally rip my fingers free of my binds.

Once my hand is out of the cuff, I pause. I look towards the door where my father is showering, then at the exit into the hall. If I ran away and got caught, what would happen this time? Would Jack lose it for good? The thought of him coming after me, enraged and out of his mind, made me shake. Was it worth the risk?

My necklace dangles in front of me as I lean forward. Noah wouldn't want me to be a coward. Noah would want me to fight back. And if he's out there looking for me, I have to find him.

I sneak past the bathroom door slowly, delicately putting one foot in front of the other. I wince when the door clicks as I open it, but don't stop. Losing all control I fling the door open and start running out onto the open balcony, down the concrete staircase of the hotel and making for the safety of...where? Where on earth was possibly safe from him?

This city's dark and silent. There aren't very many places to hide. The hotel attendant has gone to bed for the night. I scan each and every corner, looking for a way out. All the stores are closed. n.o.body is open, and there are no homes out here to cry to for mercy. If I could just get to a fast food place, a police station, a hospital, somewhere with a lot of people, I would be okay! But I run and run, and everywhere is abandoned. The entire world has gone missing and it is only me and my father, caught in an endless cat and mouse game underneath a moon that would never fall, looking for a sun that would never rise.

I go through the lot of a car dealership, slowing down to a walk and glancing from side to side. Really, where was everybody? The only thing out here that makes a sound is the buzzing of the light above me, one that gives off an eerie haze upon the asphalt. The light casts a large shadow that isn't mine...

Knuckles slam into the back of my head and I go crashing down to the pavement, the rocks skinning my face and embedding into my cheek as I come to a halt upon the rough ground. Dark splotches dot my vision and my eyes begin swelling as Jack picks me up, then slams me down into the ground. Something in my right arm cracks but there's no time to wonder what it is, for my father is beating me.

My body is thrown carelessly around from blow to blow as slaps and punches rain down upon me. Sometimes my face breaks with the contact and blood goes gushing outside my wounds. I try to throw my hands up but he easily bats them away. The scariest thing about the whole thing isn't the pain but the way his bloodshot, wide eyes gaze at me in fury and fear as he hits me over and over. I look in them and see that he is as lost and scared as I am, and that he cannot stop himself. That isn't my father looking back at me. It's a monster.

"Leave me alone! Please!" I cry. I go to scratch his eyes but he rips my hands away and claws at my own, leaving deep gashes on the edge of my eyebrow. He grabs my shoulders and I realize that I have to stop him. If I don't, he'll kill me. Doing the only thing I can think of, I raise my knee up to ram him in the groin.

He instantly falls over and forcing myself to get up I begin running, my one arm dangling limply by my side. My eyes are starting to swell shut but I pay no attention, staggering and stumbling to get away. There's nothing left in me but survival.

I have no idea where I am but by the time my lungs are burning I've ran for five minutes at least. "What have I done?" a voice calls from afar, screaming. "WHAT HAVE I DONE? ROSEMARY!"

I don't hear the voice calling my name because my soul is no longer in my body and I am watching myself from afar run and run and run, leaving a b.l.o.o.d.y trail. I know I must be in pain, but I feel none.

"Stop, Rose!" the voice cries out, and it is a voice that is shattered and shatters the world. "I don't want to hurt you! I didn't mean to hurt you! I love you!"