[Narrator]
When Jared gets home, he doesn't see Jenna's car.
He waits inside for her, convinced that she'll come home.
Any minute, she'll come into the house, bringing a draft of cold air, and an explanation. She'll tell him she was 'just' doing this or that.
Twenty odd minutes later, he's not convinced. She's hardly ever late, and she's never late without calling.
He calls her phone repeatedly, only to have it go to voicemail. Straight to voicemail. Like it's turned off, or dead.
No, not dead, he amends. It's just not charged. He hates himself in that instant for thinking the word 'dead', even if it was only meant towards the battery of a cell phone.
----
That bad, sick feeling returns with a vengeance when he sees a police car pull up to their driveway, as he's pacing in the living room. He sees two troopers get out of their car, and his dread grows when he sees one of them take his hat off, run his fingers distractedly through his hair.
News bad enough for the trooper to leave his hat in the car, that symbol of unwavering authority, that's bad.
The way he runs his fingers through his hair, worse. Like he's steeling himself to deliver a blow. When he looks over at his partner, nods, and they both take deep breaths, Jared is convinced that it's as bad as it can get.
Jared knows from experience, that no matter how much you brace yourself for bad news, it's never quite enough. You can tell your mind to expect the worst, but there's always a part of you that says "It can't really be that bad. Please, don't let it be that bad."
Instead of waiting for them to walk up the stairs and onto the porch, he's taking the stairs two at a time, and running towards them.
[Jared]
"Is she okay?" Somehow I managed to ask. My voice didn't sound like me, it sounded far away, tinny. Canned. The voice of an actor speaking the dialogue of my life. From the next universe, maybe.
When I asked, I saw them exchange a look. That look was enough to make my stomach plummet to my feet.
That look said everything. It said 'It's not okay. In fact, it's pretty fucking bad, but we don't want you to go batshit crazy."
"Mr. Boone," the older of the two said, "I'm Trooper Jakes, and this is Trooper Northcutt. We're here because your girlfriend's car has been in an accident."
----
It felt like being shocked. Like grabbing a frayed electrical wire with wet hands. It was a jolt that went straight to my heart. It was emotional overload, a sick flailing for words that wouldn't come. It was the words can't, doesn't, shouldn't, wasn't, isn't, no, no, no, no, playing over in my mind.
They asked me questions. They had to repeat themselves, but the kindness of these two men, their careful courtesy kept bringing me out of the shock I wanted to drown in.
From what I pieced together, Jenna wasn't dead. They hadn't found her. Not her body, anyway.
There was an accident, there was blood, lots of blood, but no Jenna.
I remember arguing with them, shouting at one point, "You haven't found her body, you just need to look harder!" I kept on in that vein, finally yelling at them that if they weren't going to look, that I was.
I even got so far as to put on my jacket, and grab my keys, when Trooper Jakes put one of his hands on my shoulder.
"Mr. Boone, I need you to listen to me. We found her car. We haven't found her, but," he glanced over to Northcutt, sighed, and continued, "We think she was abducted."
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Showing posts with label the madman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the madman. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Blackbird Song (10)
One month later.
[Narrator]
We never know the moments that are going to change our lives. When we wake up in the morning, expecting one thing, maybe just expecting our lives to roll on like they always have, those are the days it happens.
We never know.
[Jenna]
"I think he's going to ask me," I confided. I held the phone away from my ear while Liz got her squeeing out of the way. "Listen, my phone's fixing to die, but I'll call you back as soon as I get home. Yeah, yeah, you're a dirty whore. Love ya too. Bye"
I turned up the radio, which happened to be playing Styx. Renegade. I started belting it out, drumming on the steering wheel, singing with all my might, and just feeling wonderful.
I adjusted the rear view mirror, and instead of seeing my reflection, I saw his eyes. Madman's eyes.
An instant later, I felt coldness against my throat.
"Pull over, pretty," he said, his eyes empty, blank.
"No."
He sliced the blade into my collarbone, the flesh widening into a grin, and I felt the front of my shirt hot and sticky against my skin. But I couldn't make myself pull over.
"Pull over, now," he said, no inflection in his words.
Meeting his eyes in the mirror, I stomped the gas, causing him to slide back into the leather of the seat.
The next instant, his hands were in my hair, yanking my head back, the knife pressing against my throat.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I thought, as I felt the knife cutting into me again.
I mat the accelerator to the floor, and swerved into the tree looming ahead. I know that it probably won't end well for me. I know that, but I know whatever he's got planned for me will be so much worse. You see, I know him. I know that whatever lead him to make this plan, it's going to be so much worse than a few broken bones and bruises.
In this moment, I've made my peace. I may die, but I'm not going to die at the hands of a madman. I'm thinking these thoughts when we hit the tree.
Darkness. Darkness. Darkness.
[Narrator]
As the strains of the song fill the air, dust caught in the headlights, blood dripping down Jenna's face, there's the smallest of sounds.
The rear driver's door opens.
Then, the driver's door.
Jenna doesn't feel her body being moved out of the wreckage that was her beloved Blackbird. She is mercifully unconscious as he grunts with her weight, and starts dragging her away.
She doesn't wake until days later, and when she does, she's in hell.
next
[Narrator]
We never know the moments that are going to change our lives. When we wake up in the morning, expecting one thing, maybe just expecting our lives to roll on like they always have, those are the days it happens.
We never know.
[Jenna]
"I think he's going to ask me," I confided. I held the phone away from my ear while Liz got her squeeing out of the way. "Listen, my phone's fixing to die, but I'll call you back as soon as I get home. Yeah, yeah, you're a dirty whore. Love ya too. Bye"
I turned up the radio, which happened to be playing Styx. Renegade. I started belting it out, drumming on the steering wheel, singing with all my might, and just feeling wonderful.
I adjusted the rear view mirror, and instead of seeing my reflection, I saw his eyes. Madman's eyes.
An instant later, I felt coldness against my throat.
"Pull over, pretty," he said, his eyes empty, blank.
"No."
He sliced the blade into my collarbone, the flesh widening into a grin, and I felt the front of my shirt hot and sticky against my skin. But I couldn't make myself pull over.
"Pull over, now," he said, no inflection in his words.
Meeting his eyes in the mirror, I stomped the gas, causing him to slide back into the leather of the seat.
The next instant, his hands were in my hair, yanking my head back, the knife pressing against my throat.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I thought, as I felt the knife cutting into me again.
I mat the accelerator to the floor, and swerved into the tree looming ahead. I know that it probably won't end well for me. I know that, but I know whatever he's got planned for me will be so much worse. You see, I know him. I know that whatever lead him to make this plan, it's going to be so much worse than a few broken bones and bruises.
In this moment, I've made my peace. I may die, but I'm not going to die at the hands of a madman. I'm thinking these thoughts when we hit the tree.
Darkness. Darkness. Darkness.
[Narrator]
As the strains of the song fill the air, dust caught in the headlights, blood dripping down Jenna's face, there's the smallest of sounds.
The rear driver's door opens.
Then, the driver's door.
Jenna doesn't feel her body being moved out of the wreckage that was her beloved Blackbird. She is mercifully unconscious as he grunts with her weight, and starts dragging her away.
She doesn't wake until days later, and when she does, she's in hell.
next
Blackbird Song (9)
[Jenna]
Three months.
Three months, and I can't remember life before you.
On our way home, it started snowing. The snow just seemed to glide from the sky, the flakes dancing down, twirling, and I remember asking you if we could pull over.
----
We ended up walking around the park, and when you swept me into your arms and carried me, I remember laughing with my head thrown back, white plumes of my breath in the air.
In that moment, it was just me and you. It was our moment, and I have never loved you more.
----
When we were walking back to the car, hands linked, we met a a woman, so pregnant that she wasn't really wearing her sweater, her belly was straining to hold it in. It looked like a suspended avalanche. She had a little girl with her.
She had gotten her car stuck, she said, and asked us for a ride. Jared, being the white knight he is, offered to get her car out of the mud and ice. He walked with her up the hill, one of his big hands against the small of her back, his other hand guiding her elbow.
As they walked toward the car, he turned toward me, eyes big, and mouthed "Very pregnant." I ended up grinning at his awe, and looked out toward the ice, where snow was building up. It looked like a white carpet across the lake.
I glanced over toward her daughter, all of six years old, and just beautiful. She had this red ball, she kept bouncing it, intentionally ignoring her mother's comments to 'sit here, and be careful while we get the car unstuck.'
I grinned to myself, stuck my hands deep into my pockets, and watched as Jared attached the chain from the Blackbird's trunk to the frame of her car. He got her car out of the mud after only two tries, and was talking to the woman who was profusely thanking him, when I looked over to her daughter.
I didn't see her, or that red ball. I looked over toward the pier, and sitting on top of the ice was that red ball. In all that white, it was hard to miss.
The little girl was nowhere in sight.
It was just sitting on top of the ice, hateful, smug, sucking all the breath out of my lungs. Seeing it, I got the worst feeling. My stomach felt like I had swallowed a hot stone of dread.
I didn't even know I was running, but in the next instant I'd almost reached the pier. As I ran across the planks, I could feel my heart beating so loudly it drowned out all other sounds. I looked down, knowing what I would find, and still hoping, praying, begging that it wouldn't be there.
There was a small hole in the ice.
I did the only thing I could do. I dove in.
The next instant, I was surfacing, gasping from the cold that stabbed into my body. It felt like knives stabbing the breath out of my lungs. I remember sobbing and gasping, and as soon as I was able to get another breath, I dove down again.
Hands grasping, reaching, fingers seeking, I willed my body to find her. I surfaced yet again, long enough to get a breath, then back down.
Furiously my mind was screaming at me "Find her!" "There's no time!" "Find her!"
I surfaced again and again, hands reaching, searching, my mind working against me, screaming at me to find her.
I couldn't feel my feet anymore, they were numb, distant, no longer cold. I dove under, and this time I felt the slippery fabric of a coat.
My fingers closed around that swatch of fabric, and I pulled, yanking her to me, pulling her out of the water.
Jared and her mom were on the pier, Jared holding her back from jumping into the water, while pulling me and the little girl up.
I put her on the pier, face ashen, lips blue, and started CPR. I breathed into her mouth, willing her to live. Live, I thought to her, breathe.
I kept doing CPR, refusing to believe that she was dead. I could feel her mother shaking me, telling me to make her daughter breathe. Screaming at me. Threatening, cajolling, and finally, begging.
I kept on, tears starting to run down my face, because this little girl was still not responding.
I kept on, and it was in the middle of the millionth chest compression that she ended up coughing up a mouthful of water into my face.
It was right about this time that the paramedics came running toward us. They took the little girl (and her mother) and bundled them into an ambulance.
One of the EMTs wrapped me in a blanket at some point that I didn't remember, and now that the adrenaline started to ebb, I felt cold, tired, and I couldn't stop crying.
I looked up into Jared's face, seeing his eyes huge, felt his hands chafing my hands, my shoulders, warming me up.
When I realized what had just happened, I turned away from him and threw up all over that nice EMTs blanket.
----
next
Three months.
Three months, and I can't remember life before you.
On our way home, it started snowing. The snow just seemed to glide from the sky, the flakes dancing down, twirling, and I remember asking you if we could pull over.
----
We ended up walking around the park, and when you swept me into your arms and carried me, I remember laughing with my head thrown back, white plumes of my breath in the air.
In that moment, it was just me and you. It was our moment, and I have never loved you more.
----
When we were walking back to the car, hands linked, we met a a woman, so pregnant that she wasn't really wearing her sweater, her belly was straining to hold it in. It looked like a suspended avalanche. She had a little girl with her.
She had gotten her car stuck, she said, and asked us for a ride. Jared, being the white knight he is, offered to get her car out of the mud and ice. He walked with her up the hill, one of his big hands against the small of her back, his other hand guiding her elbow.
As they walked toward the car, he turned toward me, eyes big, and mouthed "Very pregnant." I ended up grinning at his awe, and looked out toward the ice, where snow was building up. It looked like a white carpet across the lake.
I glanced over toward her daughter, all of six years old, and just beautiful. She had this red ball, she kept bouncing it, intentionally ignoring her mother's comments to 'sit here, and be careful while we get the car unstuck.'
I grinned to myself, stuck my hands deep into my pockets, and watched as Jared attached the chain from the Blackbird's trunk to the frame of her car. He got her car out of the mud after only two tries, and was talking to the woman who was profusely thanking him, when I looked over to her daughter.
I didn't see her, or that red ball. I looked over toward the pier, and sitting on top of the ice was that red ball. In all that white, it was hard to miss.
The little girl was nowhere in sight.
It was just sitting on top of the ice, hateful, smug, sucking all the breath out of my lungs. Seeing it, I got the worst feeling. My stomach felt like I had swallowed a hot stone of dread.
I didn't even know I was running, but in the next instant I'd almost reached the pier. As I ran across the planks, I could feel my heart beating so loudly it drowned out all other sounds. I looked down, knowing what I would find, and still hoping, praying, begging that it wouldn't be there.
There was a small hole in the ice.
I did the only thing I could do. I dove in.
The next instant, I was surfacing, gasping from the cold that stabbed into my body. It felt like knives stabbing the breath out of my lungs. I remember sobbing and gasping, and as soon as I was able to get another breath, I dove down again.
Hands grasping, reaching, fingers seeking, I willed my body to find her. I surfaced yet again, long enough to get a breath, then back down.
Furiously my mind was screaming at me "Find her!" "There's no time!" "Find her!"
I surfaced again and again, hands reaching, searching, my mind working against me, screaming at me to find her.
I couldn't feel my feet anymore, they were numb, distant, no longer cold. I dove under, and this time I felt the slippery fabric of a coat.
My fingers closed around that swatch of fabric, and I pulled, yanking her to me, pulling her out of the water.
Jared and her mom were on the pier, Jared holding her back from jumping into the water, while pulling me and the little girl up.
I put her on the pier, face ashen, lips blue, and started CPR. I breathed into her mouth, willing her to live. Live, I thought to her, breathe.
I kept doing CPR, refusing to believe that she was dead. I could feel her mother shaking me, telling me to make her daughter breathe. Screaming at me. Threatening, cajolling, and finally, begging.
I kept on, tears starting to run down my face, because this little girl was still not responding.
I kept on, and it was in the middle of the millionth chest compression that she ended up coughing up a mouthful of water into my face.
It was right about this time that the paramedics came running toward us. They took the little girl (and her mother) and bundled them into an ambulance.
One of the EMTs wrapped me in a blanket at some point that I didn't remember, and now that the adrenaline started to ebb, I felt cold, tired, and I couldn't stop crying.
I looked up into Jared's face, seeing his eyes huge, felt his hands chafing my hands, my shoulders, warming me up.
When I realized what had just happened, I turned away from him and threw up all over that nice EMTs blanket.
----
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