My Life with Death

20266 Riverside Bridge, Northern Maryland

II. ESCAPE

 "...The places on the map of crime scenes where the victims' bodies were found form a triangle. First Annapolis, Maryland, then Northern Virginia, and now Washington, D.C. Why? And why did he suddenly start again? After five years? Does it have to have a reason? Why won't they let me investigate? Who's stopping me? It must be someone from the FBI."

I rented a car and drove to a cottage that belonged to my grandmother. We used to go there with my parents and Zooey when we were little. The last time I was there was a year after Christine was born.

January 2, 2019, 4:45 p.m.

I was sitting at the table, my feet were on its wooden board, and I was supporting my head with my right hand. Things were strewn all over the table: papers, stationery, and a laptop. I heard a crunch. It sounded like someone was stepping on dry branches outside the house. It woke me up from half-sleep. I took a loaded gun and one magazine from the table. I took my jacket off the hanger by the door. I quickly got dressed and put the car keys in my pocket. I sat down under the window, from where I could hear the sounds from outside.

I looked around. Nothing could be seen. It was getting dark, and nothing much could be seen through the trees. There were no cars parked anywhere, only mine. I ran out. Bullets started flying out of the clump of bushes. They were shooting at me. I returned several shots in their direction. I ran to the driveway. There were also several bullet wounds in the car. The amount of adrenaline overwhelmed all my rational thinking. I just shot around and tried to avoid their bullets. I fired the entire magazine. I jumped behind the car. I approached the door, sat in the car, started it, and hit reverse. However, I didn't get through unscathed. They hit me in the side—a clean shot. I headed southwest. There was snow on the roads and only barren frost all around.

I stopped at a rest stop on the highway at the border of West Virginia. I was on the road for three hours. Adrenaline kept me awake, but I was in pain. I lost a lot of blood. I was weak, and I almost passed out.

I pulled out a first aid kit from under the back seat. For some reason, I hoped and believed the bullet had not hit any organ. It's just that she flew through, and that's all. I rinsed the wound with disinfectant and bandaged it. I was in pain but didn't want to take painkillers. I had to continue on my way. I couldn't stop yet, rest. I had already lost a lot of blood and still had a long way to go. I needed to get away. Somewhere where I would feel safe. I wanted to go home.