Breaking Free

Chapter 30

No POV

The night air was eerily calm, as it should be on a moonless night. The horses at the Stone's house were all tucked away in their barns. All except one.

That one horse was escorted out, blindfolded, and loaded into a trailer. He didn't struggle because he vaguely smelt the familiar scent of the girl. He hadn't seen her in a while- but he wanted to find her.

So the horse climbed into the trailer willingly, and was driven away.

By the time the Stone's got up to try and stop him from being taken away, the car was already gone.

Taylor's POV

I struggle in my bindings, fiercely trying to force them to fall away, using sheer force and willpower. But it just makes the duck tape dig tighter into my skin.

"Let me out of this," I hiss, glaring at the man who I know is a cold blooded killer.

"All in good time," he chuckles.

"Why do you need me? You want my parents, and I'm obviously not them."

"Correction- I want your family. That includes you and everyone in it. That includes- mothers, fathers, sisters-"

"I don't have any sisters, so you're out of luck," I snap.

He just gives me a knowing, chilling grin, before someone bursts through the door. For a moment, I think that maybe it's someone to rescue me. But that hope is shattered when I see Deputy Jones' face.

"Is it taken care of?" Clint asks.

"Yeah. Completely."

I start to open my mouth to speak, but think better of it, and start fiddling with the duck tape. It's tight, but I could slit it open if only I had something sharp- like a knife or a credit card. An idea sparks in my mind.

"You have the wrong girl- my name isn't Taylor. It's Genevieve," I weakly state. "It's on my drivers license- go get it, you'll see."

"Oh? Well I guess we've made a mistake. Haven't we Jones?" Clint sarcastically states with false worry. Jones goes behind a few crates, and I hear struggling and a few grunts.

"Well, if you're not Taylor, I assume you'll have no problem with us letting you go, and just killing them-"

He tosses two crumpled people to the ground in front of me. Their hands and feet are taped, their mouths gagged.

I gasp. They look older than I remember then, and their faces have started to wrinkle with age. Gray hair dusts their hair, but I recognize them.

"Mom? Dad?" I choke.

"No, no. They couldn't be your parents, Genevieve," Clint taunts.

"Oh, I believe we forgot one," Jones states, obviously enjoying my torment.

He goes back to where he found my parents, and pulls out what I notice to my horror, is a young girl, maybe 10 years old.

"This Taylor- this is Ariel Frederickson, AKA Ariel Evans," Jones states cruelly.

"In other words- this is your sister," Clint sinisterly chuckles.