Break Free

Day One

5:30pm

I woke up in the passenger seat of the truck. We were on a highway and moving pretty fast. I didn't recognize anything around me, except for the person next to me.

"You passed out," he began to say.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," I refused to look at him. I started to roll down the window for some fresh air.

"Woah, woah! What are you doing?!" Aaron frantically reached for his set of window controls.

"You seriously think I would try to flag someone down? Do you think I'm stupid? I just wanted some fresh air. Honestly, at this point, I would rather throw myself out of the window instead of trying to flag someone down. But whatever," I said, sinking back into my seat and crossing my arms, "Can I at least turn on the radio?"

"No. We can just talk. Assuming you won't have an aneurysm from simply having a conversation with me."

"Oh, I don't know. You have quite the record of causing harm," I still kept my eyes forward or looking out of my window. I couldn't look at him.

"Hey! I've changed!"

"Seriously?! No you haven't! Remember what you did to that poor kid at the school?! Some poor soul now has to go inform his parents that their child fucking died in a building that should prevent these things. And what are we doing right now? Fleeing the state. With a child you have no right to take."

"I'm your dad! I have every right to take you!"

"First off, no. You don't. Mom has full custody and you need to receive permission from her if you plan to take me across a border of any kind. This is kidnapping. Second, you are not my dad. You lost that title ten years ago. Yes, you are my biological father. Without you, I wouldn't have been genetically possible. However, a dad is not the person that conceives the child. It is the man that raises it. Face it. You did not raise me. You hurt me. Physically and emotionally. That is not a dad. A dad is someone you go to for support or comfort. Someone that makes you feel safe. You are not him. Mike is."

"Who the hell is Mike?!"

"Why the fuck do you care? And why the fuck should I tell you?"

The car swerved to the right shoulder of the road and skidded to a stop. I had to push my head into my headrest to prevent it from slamming into the dashboard.

"Okay, listen here. You talk to me in a respectful tone, and we won't have a problem. Windows stay up, radio stays off. If you wanna sit this whole ride in silence, be my guest. I'm getting tired of your voice," Aaron sneered.

"That makes two of us..." I mumble. He rolls his eyes and looks back at the road as we begin to make our way back onto the highway.

I examine the car and think of any possible escape routes or ways to draw attention to us that won't draw the attention of him. I look over at my door and think that I could just quickly unlock the door and throw myself out. I would be severely injured or dead, but it could be worth a shot. At least I would have tried. But my idea was quickly shattered when I noticed that the automatic door lock was concealed in a small hole, telling me that the door was indeed locked, but there was also no way of escape. I would have to think of something else. I looked over at the gas gauge. It was almost empty. We would have to stop for gas soon.

*****

We had to stop for gas a little less than an hour later, and I was surprised at how calm I was. This situation would have scared anyone else shitless. I think that maybe I was unconsciously preparing for a situation like this since we packed up and left. I also knew that he wouldn't kill me. I was leverage. He may try to hurt me again, but I could fight back. These instincts kicked in from the second our school had been infiltrated, but I don't know how.

We pulled up into the gas station, and I watched the windows of the store very carefully. I tried to catch at least a glimpse of the license plate in the reflection, but we were moving too fast. Damn it.

Aaron got out and went to the gas pump. I followed. Walking around the back of the truck, I got a nice look at the license plate. I ran through it in my head over and over to assure I wouldn't forget it or screw up something as simple as one number or letter.

"I have to pee," I told him, as I began to turn away towards the convenience store.

"I already took your phone so there is no point in going to call for help," he said, not even looking away from the gas pump.

"I actually have to take a piss, thank you," I yelled as I pulled open the door of the store.

I locked myself in the bathroom. It was only a single toilet as opposed to two or three stalls. Rummaging through my bag, I managed to find the lipstick that I never use but always have in case of situations like these.

Scarlet Davis kidnapped

From Maryland

License plate OIT643

Call police

Kidnapper armed and dangerous

I wrote on the door of the bathroom. That way, the next person that uses it will definitely see this. Hopefully they actually call for help.

Walking out of the store, I see Aaron sitting in the drivers seat of the truck. I couldn't help but laugh. He was drinking what looked like the little bottles of booze you can get to take on an airplane. Dumbass. He hasn't changed at all.