Final Touch by Brandilyn Collins

driving. They’d be looking for it. Did they know the license plate? Why hadn’t anyone found us by now?
    My stomach felt so empty. And I needed water.
    I couldn’t live like this.
    My eyes closed, tears squeezing through my lids. Fact was—maybe I wouldn’t.
    It wasn’t something I’d allowed myself to think about before. But the more I tried to push it away, the stronger the feeling grew. The police knew our car and they knew the cabin. Still, Joshua had gotten away. And he was going to kill me. Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow or next week. But I could never become the subservient wife living in the wilderness that he wanted me to become. If he thought he’d brainwash me to believe in his false Christianity, he was in for a surprise. I wouldn’t. Ever.
    One day he was going to get tired of my fighting.
    “Shaley!” Joshua barked.
    I tensed. “What.”
    “I’m going to stop soon. We’ll get a different car. I don’t want you to move until I tell you to, hear? Then you’re going to do exactly what I say.”
    “I have to go to the bathroom.”
    No answer.
    “Joshua!”
    “Shut up.”
    Get a different car. The words registered. How was he going to do that?
    From deep inside me, a new voice whispered. The voice of justice.
    Minutes ticked by. The voice grew stronger.
    If I didn’t live through this, never saw Mom and Dad again, there was one thing I could do—make sure this man paid for what he did to me. Make sure he wasn’t free to kidnap someone else.
    I needed to leave evidence. A trail of clues to prove where I’d been, what Joshua had done.
    Vengeance and anger washed over me. It felt good, energizing. I could do something, even kidnapped and with my hands tied.
    The Explorer slowed.
    Reaching up with my bound hands, I stuck out my right thumb and pressed it hard against the bottom of the window.
    I brought my hands to my hair, still loosely bound in the rubber band. Took hold of a small lock and pulled. Pain scratched my skull. I didn’t care. I pulled harder. The hairs came out. I dropped them on the floor.
    Our car turned right, then bumped over an entrance.
    I swallowed. “Where are we?”
    “I told you to shut up.”
    The Explorer stopped. I held my breath. Joshua’s seat squeaked as he got out. His door slammed.
    Silence.
    Heart thudding, I dared to half sit up and peek through my window.
    We were in a parking lot behind some big store. Joshua stood with his back to me by a maroon four-door car that faced the opposite direction of the Explorer. He was doing something to the driver’s door.
    Breaking into the car.
    The door opened. Joshua pulled up straight and glanced around. I ducked back down in my seat.
    A short time later I heard a motor start.
    How did he do that?
    The engine kept running. Joshua’s footsteps came around the rear of the Explorer. The back door opened.
    “Get out,” he snapped. “Hurry.”
    I sat up and wriggled my way to the end of the seat. Pushed to my feet and struggled forward. Joshua caught my tied wrists and pulled me down to the pavement. “Move.” He shoved me around the Explorer and to the maroon car. Opened the back door. “Get down on the seat.”
    I slid inside and lay down. Joshua slammed the door.
    More noises came from the SUV. Joshua opening up the back? A door on the Explorer closed. Joshua reached into the driver’s seat of our new car, seeking a button. The trunk popped open.
    I heard a muffled thump as he threw things inside.
    A suitcase? His possessions? I’d never even looked in the back of that SUV.
    The trunk closed. Joshua ran around and jumped into the car. With a surge of the engine, we took off.
    Only then did the realization fully hit me. The police would be looking for the Explorer. They wouldn’t know about this car—my new prison. And Joshua would be free to take me farther and farther away.
    As the sun rose, streaming light from the passenger side windows, I lay on the seat and cried. There was no help for me now.
    Mom, Dad.