creepy and unlike you.”
I shrug. “I like her. I’m also absurdly attracted to her. And I really don’t know why I bought her that sweatshirt if I’m being honest.”
He ribs me a bit more and then sighs, turning towards the door mumbling. “Look at us, acting like a bunch of pussies over girls we barely know.”
He leaves the room, and I slump back on the bed, running over the events of the night. I think of Indigo and how she turned into the graceful lover on the dance floor, so carefree and beautiful. Then I think of carrying her home, and her sweet shy smile when I gave her the sweatshirt. “Fuck me.”
Getting out of bed, I walk to my desk and turn on my laptop. Ever since Shawn mentioned it, I haven’t been able to get looking up Indigo’s story out of my head. I feel a little guilty for googling her behind her back, but at this point, it’s the only way I’m going to get any real information on her. I learned last night it will probably be a while before I can just ask any serious questions, and I can’t wait any longer.
I pull up the search engine, type in Indigo, and I’m shocked to see that her full name pops up before I even finish, indicating she’s well-searched. For some reason, I feel uneasy when I highlight her name and press enter.
I’m not prepared for what I see. Millions of hits bring up scores of articles written about her, videos, candid photos, talk show segments, links to a documentary. I decide to start simple and click on a Wikipedia article entitled ‘The Kidnapping of Indigo Olsen.’
The picture immediately gets my attention and I stiffen in my seat. It’s Indigo. I know right away from the features on her face, but her hair is blonde, and her eyes are sunken as she looks dead on at the camera. There is so much chaos in the background. Cops crowding in around her, some in motion, some with their mouths open mid-sentence. A run-down convenience store is to the right with a group of onlookers huddled together. She has a gray blanket around her shoulders, and the scar on her face looks swollen and painful, and stands out against her pale cheek. Amidst all the action of the photo, she somehow found this one camera. It’s like everyone else is moving but her. I resist the urge to throw something across the room, and force myself to begin to read instead.
‘ Indigo Olsen was kidnapped by Richard and Joan Huff on July 14, 2011, in the New England town of Norwalk, Connecticut. Olsen was abducted from her bedroom on Monroe Avenue somewhere between the hours of 2-4am. Searches did not begin until five days later due to the fact that Olsen was 15 at the time of her abduction, and was originally considered a runaway. Despite extensive investigation, no leads were initially generated. She remained missing until December 10 th 2011, where she was recognized at a gas station in Burns Wyoming by Gail Summers.’
Feeling sick, fist clenched, I scroll down the page to keep reading.
‘Olsen was first kept locked in the basement of the Huffs East Lyme home. It is believed this is where her hair was dyed blonde in an effort to disguise her. After a few weeks, the Huff’s drove Olsen across country, staying in hotels or in the Huffs vehicle, a 2002 Infinity G20. A few sightings were reported, but the Huffs kept on the move in an effort to thwart authorities.’
‘I’ve been to 48 states.’ Indigo’s words come back to haunt me, and I rub my hands nervously across my forehead.
‘The case garnered widespread media attention due to Janet Olsen, who spread the word about her daughter on talk shows and news broadcasts across the country.’
I scroll down, anxious to hear about the punishment the mother fuckers better have received.
‘Richard Huff was tried and convicted on June 16, 2012 for forcible rape, assault, kidnapping, and attempted murder. He is currently spending 31 years at Oregon State Prison.’
There’s an inset picture of his mug shot, and I stare into his eyes,
I shrug. “I like her. I’m also absurdly attracted to her. And I really don’t know why I bought her that sweatshirt if I’m being honest.”
He ribs me a bit more and then sighs, turning towards the door mumbling. “Look at us, acting like a bunch of pussies over girls we barely know.”
He leaves the room, and I slump back on the bed, running over the events of the night. I think of Indigo and how she turned into the graceful lover on the dance floor, so carefree and beautiful. Then I think of carrying her home, and her sweet shy smile when I gave her the sweatshirt. “Fuck me.”
Getting out of bed, I walk to my desk and turn on my laptop. Ever since Shawn mentioned it, I haven’t been able to get looking up Indigo’s story out of my head. I feel a little guilty for googling her behind her back, but at this point, it’s the only way I’m going to get any real information on her. I learned last night it will probably be a while before I can just ask any serious questions, and I can’t wait any longer.
I pull up the search engine, type in Indigo, and I’m shocked to see that her full name pops up before I even finish, indicating she’s well-searched. For some reason, I feel uneasy when I highlight her name and press enter.
I’m not prepared for what I see. Millions of hits bring up scores of articles written about her, videos, candid photos, talk show segments, links to a documentary. I decide to start simple and click on a Wikipedia article entitled ‘The Kidnapping of Indigo Olsen.’
The picture immediately gets my attention and I stiffen in my seat. It’s Indigo. I know right away from the features on her face, but her hair is blonde, and her eyes are sunken as she looks dead on at the camera. There is so much chaos in the background. Cops crowding in around her, some in motion, some with their mouths open mid-sentence. A run-down convenience store is to the right with a group of onlookers huddled together. She has a gray blanket around her shoulders, and the scar on her face looks swollen and painful, and stands out against her pale cheek. Amidst all the action of the photo, she somehow found this one camera. It’s like everyone else is moving but her. I resist the urge to throw something across the room, and force myself to begin to read instead.
‘ Indigo Olsen was kidnapped by Richard and Joan Huff on July 14, 2011, in the New England town of Norwalk, Connecticut. Olsen was abducted from her bedroom on Monroe Avenue somewhere between the hours of 2-4am. Searches did not begin until five days later due to the fact that Olsen was 15 at the time of her abduction, and was originally considered a runaway. Despite extensive investigation, no leads were initially generated. She remained missing until December 10 th 2011, where she was recognized at a gas station in Burns Wyoming by Gail Summers.’
Feeling sick, fist clenched, I scroll down the page to keep reading.
‘Olsen was first kept locked in the basement of the Huffs East Lyme home. It is believed this is where her hair was dyed blonde in an effort to disguise her. After a few weeks, the Huff’s drove Olsen across country, staying in hotels or in the Huffs vehicle, a 2002 Infinity G20. A few sightings were reported, but the Huffs kept on the move in an effort to thwart authorities.’
‘I’ve been to 48 states.’ Indigo’s words come back to haunt me, and I rub my hands nervously across my forehead.
‘The case garnered widespread media attention due to Janet Olsen, who spread the word about her daughter on talk shows and news broadcasts across the country.’
I scroll down, anxious to hear about the punishment the mother fuckers better have received.
‘Richard Huff was tried and convicted on June 16, 2012 for forcible rape, assault, kidnapping, and attempted murder. He is currently spending 31 years at Oregon State Prison.’
There’s an inset picture of his mug shot, and I stare into his eyes,
Similar Books
