A Fairytale Ending: A Christina Grimmie & Bobby Plizak Fanfiction (trilogy)

Chapter 26

He was right, it didn't take long for us to make it to our next destination. And I really did need to pee.

"Okay, I can't have you walking in there tied up and shit. People will obviously suspect something. So I'm gonna untie your hands. But don't look in the other direction because I'm keeping that tape on your mouth. Don't do anything suspicious or you'll regret it a few minutes later," he said.

I realized that for a kidnapper/murderer/rapist/whatever he was, he wasn't very organized. He didn't really know what he was doing. He needed to untie me for this, take the tape off for that, and he just expected that I'd listen to him. Because I would. I was too afraid for my life and, most importantly, the life of the baby I was carrying.

He opened the door and I struggled to get up and turn for him to unite my hands. I rubbed my wrists as I walked up to the door. I didn't know what to do, though.

Was the door locked? If it was, did he have the key to it? Was this his house? Could he manage to pay for more than one house in Los Angeles? Were we still in L.A.? We drove for a long time, both last night and today. We could be anywhere.

He came up behind me and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. I had no idea where anything was, and all I wanted was the bathroom. I suspected he didn't live here, since he just tried the knob and it was unlocked. But, now the question was, whose house was this?

I walked through hallways and peered in through every doorway. I saw a little room with a crib and a baby in it.

I could only imagine why he's brought me here. What was he going to do to that baby? I tried to push away my questions and worries because the need to pee was becoming painful.

I kept looking and found the bathroom not far from the baby's room. I went in there and locked the door. I could stay in here and try to hide, but I'm sure he knew I was in here and he'd knock the door down or something. Then what? He'd probably stab me in the stomach or something.

I just peed and tried not to think of what was going to happen next. Right as I flushed the toilet, I heard a scream and loud boom and practically ran out of the bathroom.

All I saw was a little boy, maybe five years old, with a bullet wound in the head and that man standing in front of him with a gun. I thought I would lose it right then and there, but I told myself I wouldn't let this man see me cry. I wouldn't let him know he was getting to me. I had to be strong. Like I always told my frands.

"Come here," my kidnapper said. I walked over to him even though I had never been more afraid of what would happen next.

He roughly grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around, tying my hands back up.

As he was doing that, I saw a pretty, young, red-haired woman coming up the stairs. I assumed she was this boy's mom, and she heard him scream and then the gunshot and she was already a mess. She came upstairs and saw me, but the man didn't look up. He was too busy tying my hands together.

The woman was looking at me like she knew me from somewhere and she was trying to figure out where. Of course she'd seen me on magazines and TV shows, but I'm sure right now I looked unrecognizable at first glance from someone who doesn't know me personally.

Then she turned her attention to the young boy on the couch who had been killed. She immediately started crying and the man looked at her. "Look who decided to show up," he said.

She looked at him and started crying and coming after him, but she didn't have anything. He had at least one gun and a knife, and all she had was her frustration and fists. He didn't pull a weapon on her, though. He grabbed her from a distance so that she couldn't hit him.

"Don't worry, honey, I didn't touch the baby. And I won't if you show me where your bedroom is," he said.

What was I witnessing?

The woman seemed to calm down at the mention of the baby, and I wondered how old it was. Whether it was male or female. If there was a chance Lucas had played with his brother at a park.

The lady walked to a hallway and glanced behind her. "It's this way," she mumbled.

I was expecting him to just follow her, but he grabbed me and pulled me with him.

Now I began to fight back. I did not want to go in there and see whatever he was planning to do. But he wanted me to, and he had the upper hand.

The woman seemed to rush past the baby's room, hoping the man was telling the truth when he said he wouldn't hurt it. She opened the door at the end of the hallway and stood there.

"Here it is," she mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Get in there," the man said, still holding me close to him.

The woman's face changed to complete astonishment and panic before she hid her feelings again and seemed to try to decide what to do.

"I said get the fuck in there," the man said, and I knew she would.

Not surprisingly, the woman followed his orders and walked into the room. He followed her in, pulling me close behind him. I didn't want him to do anything to her, and I most certainly didn't want to have to witness it.

The woman and I made direct eye contact and she realized who I was. She recognized me, I saw it in her face. And then I saw that she knew something bad was coming, too. She knew that we were both going to go through something horrible within the next moments.

And through her gaze, I saw her begging me to make sure the baby was OK if she couldn't do it herself. I saw her telling me to make sure he didn't hurt me more than he already had, and I saw her telling me not to let him come close to anyone else or their family. We both knew something bad was about to happen to both of us. Something horrific, and the worst thing we'd ever experienced.

I looked away from her, and she looked away from me. I studied the room. There was a large bed in the middle with a simple patterned bedspread. There were tons of pictures in a collage over the bed. Many were of the little boy who had already been shot and killed, and a lot of the baby in the other room, too. There were a lot of pictures of the woman standing before me, both now and in the past. Wedding pictures. Her and her husband. And I felt so bad. He would come home and have to help pick up the pieces that this horrible man was leaving behind.

There were also photos of a little girl, who I assumed was old enough to be in school. That must be where she is right now. And that thought alone made me want to roll into a ball and cry. This little girl would have been through more than anyone should have to in an entire lifetime before she was ten years old.

"This your husband?" The man broke the silence.

The woman nodded shakily.

"I bet he's fucked you numerous times on this bed, huh? Has he made you feel really good? Have you yelled out his name in ecstasy too many times to count?" he asked.

I felt myself growing uncomfortable, and somehow I knew we both knew what would happen next.

The woman didn't speak.

"Strip."

"What? I will no-"

The man pulled out his gun and started pulling me with him back toward the door. "Strip or the baby dies."