Bounty Hunter

Zinnia

The silence isn’t quiet.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Every second that passed was spent listening to the ticking of the clock against the wall, Alex’s loud, yet steady breathing as she pondered on what to say, and of course, my thudding heart that seemed to beat incessantly both at the message I’d just received and in anticipation to her response.

Finally, she let out a huge sigh and her light brown eyes met mine, giving me a worrisome stare.

“Zinnia, I think you should go to the police,” she finally said, and right when I was about to contradict her, she added.

“I know he threatened you with…. with….” Alex stuttered, unable to voice out what she wanted to say without her words shooting right into my heart.

“Look, I know he threatened you, but this man is dangerous. He could be a murderer for all we know. Hell, he could be wanted right now,”

I took in her words. Alex was right. I had to go to the police. It doesn’t matter how his breath against my skin made me feel, or how his touch burned deliciously against my skin, birthing illicit thoughts. He’s a fucking psychopath and needs to be locked away.

“You’re right, Alex. I’m not sure why I got so worked up when I could just go to the police and file a formal complaint,”

Alex nodded to my statement. “If you want, I could tag alone. Perhaps, you’d feel more safe?” She tilted her head quizzically at this.

“Thanks, but no, thanks. I’m sure it will be fine. What’s the worst that can happen anyways, right?” I asked, forcing a smile on my face.

Alex responded simply with a strained smile. Like me, she knew something worse could happen, yet, she maintained her silence as I did.

As Alex scrolled through Netflix, searching for a movie to watch, I wondered if I should tell her about the message I’d just received. I decided against it. Instead, I picked up my phone and screenshotted his message, in case they disappeared like the previous ones.

*******

I woke up the following morning to rays of sunlight reflecting into the bedroom. Squinting my eyes, I opened them slowly, to get used to the brightness. I picked up my phone from the bedside cupboard, noticing that it was a little over nine. I dangled to the end of the bed.

I grabbed my backpack and stuffed my belongings inside, then walked out of the bedroom.

The door to Alex’s room was slightly ajar. I noticed she was still fast asleep and decided against waking her up. Now in the kitchen area, I grabbed the post-it note and quickly scribbled down a message, and soon, I was walking out of Alex’s house.

I’d never been to this side of town, so as I through the well-paved road, I held tightly to my backpack, feeling a little insecure about my appearance.

Cars were parked outside every house. Kids playing in their green and well-trimmed garden. I stared enviously at a little girl clinging to her mom, and the woman, probably in her mid-thirties, seemed okay with it.

Something in my heart dropped. Would my life be different if I’d grown up with loving parents? Certainly. If only my mom had loved me more than she did with whatever substance she injected into her body, then yes, I believe my life would have been better.

I forced my gaze away from the scene before me and tugged my bag tighter, fasting my pace, hoping to get out of this fancy neighbourhood as soon as possible.

I stood at an interception, wondering what bend to take. I wasn’t paying attention when Alex drove us home, and now, I couldn’t decipher what bend to take.

Luckily, a cab came to a halt at the interception, probably because the light had turned red, I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t care. I hurriedly got into the cab and put on my seat belt.

“6780, Sunday Avenue please,” I murmured. I only heard a hum from the driver before the cab began to move.

Once again, I rested my head against the window frame, taking in the beautiful houses, until my eyes began to feel heavy.

I blamed it on the fact that Alex and I stayed up until the early hours of the morning, and then I was awake by ten.

With every passing second, I fought to keep my eyes open, but that proved to be difficult. Finally, I gave in, with hopes that the driver would wake me up once we’d gotten to my destination.

******

When I lazily opened my eyes, I was on a bed. I tried stretching out my body and taking in the alien environment, then I heard the dangles of shackles. I raised my left hand and noticed it was tied to the bedpost. I did the same with my right and my feet, and it was the same.

I was naked and immediately, goosebumps spread over my body.

“Hello?” I called out, panic filling my voice. “Hello?” No response.

I shook my hair, praying that the shackles would come loose. My attempt was quite laughable, and that made me want to cry.

How had I gotten here? The last thing I remember was getting into the cab at the interception and battling with my eyelids.

“Is anyone here?” I called out again, this time, my voice broke as tears pooled up in my eyes.

This surely had to be the driver’s doing. Was he even a driver at all? What did he want with me?

“Hello, why are you doing this?” I called out again after a while of silence. I continued struggling to free myself, but all my efforts seemed debatable.

In my struggles, I noticed my bag in the corner of the room, and that was the only courage I needed to keep on fighting to free myself, in hopes that once I did, I’d reach for my bag first and call for help.

Then, a silhouette appeared and rested its body against the door frame. From the built-up muscles, scattered hair and pants, I knew it was a man. He seems to be smoking. I felt his intense gaze on me.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he walked towards me, and in the mediocre lighting in the room, I was able to make out who it was.

My heart dropped my to stomach, adrenaline pumping through my ears.

“It’s you,” I murmured, suddenly hating the way relief flooded through my body.

“Yes, little flower. It’s me,”

——