Part Three

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Moe awoke in the dark, nothing to see but instead meeting a dark cloth wrapped over her eyes. The quiet dripping of water echoed within the room she had been being kept in. It sounded exactly like the rest stop.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came in her direction. They were heavy and sounded of boots. Her hands tried to move but she couldn't feel them, wrapped up in some sort of rope to restrict her from moving. Moe's legs were the same, bound tightly to restrict her from kicking. Her head raised and her heart rate increased dramatically.

"What do you want from me?" Were the first words that came out of her mouth. They were confident at first, bust slowly began to break and become more fragile with every word she spoke. She was afraid, and the only thing that could run through her mind was, 'I'm going to die today.'

The crinkling of frabics got closer to her and soon she could feel the heat of another body against her skin, along with the taste of blood as soon as she opened her mouth. The breath of her kidnapper was bitter and rotten, reeking of coffee, alcohol, and tobacco. "What do I want from you? What I've always wanted from you..." He trailed off.

It was an older voice, and clearly rusted from years of smoking. Moe peeled back her lips to expose her teeth, as an angry dog would when he felt threatened. "What do you mean? I ain't got nothing for you! I haven't ever had anything for you!" She hissed through her teeth, spitting against his face when she did.

Taken aback, the mystery man clenched his hand around her jaw and leaned toward her face. Moe almost wanted to vomit at the smell of her breath, but she didn't feel like she had any energy to do it at all. "I've done taken your daddy and your momma. You wonder why she ain't go lookin' for you no more," He growled in return before throwing Moe's head back, getting back to his feet and pacing the room.

"What...?" Moe muttered, her voice cracking under the tensity of the room. She hoped he was telling a lie. And the only way that something like this could be true was if she knew who this man really was. Was it the Axeman? Did he really know he was famous in America for his murders?

"That's right, Kinsley. I done saw your daddy beg 'n his knees for his own life because he wanted his sweet ol' daughter and his little wife. Well I'll tell you now- that man ain't never see the light of day again. I made sure of it. You been lookin' for me, ain't ya? Ain't found me yet, either. Yet I been in front yo' face the entire time," The man spat in her direction. A clear country accent was laced in his voice and his poor diction made it clear that he didn't have too much education.

Moe could feel tears welling in her eyes as the mystery man recalled her father's last moments. It was quiet in the room for a few moments. "What do you mean?! I never did anything to you! Daddy did nothing to you and you're blaming him for this mess! It's your fault and no one else's!" She screamed, trying to stand by pushing her hands against the ground. It proved to be no use, and she was only pushed back onto the ground by the man. A frustrated scream left Moe's mouth and all she felt like she could do was scream and hope that all of this would end soon.

The man was silent for a few seconds, his steps shuffling across the room as he approached her. He kneeled down by her and yanked the blindfold from her eyes. Her eyes got wide, and now it was clear that there were tears running from them. "Yo' see, I grew up with your daddy. He wasn't a real good man to me. Mama didn't like him either and he didn't cry when Mama died. Man, I was so angry at him. I loved her so much and she did so much for me, but he never did anythin' for her. Left me to die," The man explained bitterly. Suddenly, More understood.

A bitter brother with nothing left to lose after his mother died and his brother had betrayed him. That seemed like enough to drive a man mad. Moe shook her head, stay hairs falling down into her face as her eyes begged desperately for her...uncle...to spare her life. "What do I have to do with this? Can't you just let me go?" She said quietly, a gentle sob breaking from her mouth as she shuffled back against the cement wall.

"Left me behind. He didn' come back, y'know? Jus left me there all alone and I was there all by myself. Didn't have food or anythin'. My daddy wasn't alive anymore an' my mama died that summer. It was jus me and him and he didn't even care. He jus left," The man explained between bitter scoffs and dramatic crossing of his arms.

Moe looked down, her whole body shaking with fear. That's when she felt her uncle move up closer to her and pull something small from his back pocket. It looked like a small pistol. Her mouth parted and frightened cries suddenly arose from her, "Please don't! Oh my God, I'm so sorry! You don't have to do this! I-I'm not my dad!" She cried out and fought against him, trying to flail her legs to kick the gun from her captor's hands.

Lowering his head, the man seemed to take her words into consideration for one moment. His hand quivered and he seemed frightened. Angry tears seemed to run down his face and his thumb pulled back the hammer on the gun.

"I'm so sorry."

The last thing she saw was the small barrel of a gun in front of her face, the sound of a loud pop, and then sudden darkness.

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