“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. Let’s… shit, Latoya!” He trips over his words, ending it with a desperate call for who I assume is his wife.
“You’re safe now, it’s okay— Latoya! Latoya, get out here!”
A door creaks and a soft voice asks, “What’s going on? Who is that?” Urgency taints the last few notes of her second question, and I hear the rapid trek of her footsteps coming toward me.
“She—she just came running out of the woods calling for help,” he explains, his words jumbling together.
“I was kidnapped,” I squeak through another sob, my face planted firmly in the man’s chest. He smells of pine and leather, and it’s such a nice change from body odor and cigarettes that it only makes me burrow deeper into his embrace .
“Oh my God, honey, let’s get her inside. She looks dehydrated!” Soft, warm skin envelops my hand, stirring the shot nerves to life. “Hey, sweetie, you’re okay. Come inside,” she urges gently.
I let her pull me away from her husband, only to be greeted with the warmest, chocolate brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Short, silky black curls billow around her deep brown skin, and she stares at me like a mother concerned for a child.
“Oh, you're sunburnt, too! Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cooled down.” Her gaze lifts above my head. “Baby, call the police. I’m sure she has a family who’s worried sick.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her that the only family I have is too young to understand my disappearance.
The oxygen stutters from my lungs as she leads me inside, the cold air radiating from within almost a shock to my system. My teeth chatter as I'm led directly into a cute living room, though I feel nothing except relief.
“Sit here while we wait, honey. I'll get you some aloe and fresh lemonade,” Latoya instructs gently.
Woodenly, I plop onto a plush taupe couch. It complements the tan walls and pink and brown floral accents placed around the area. A soft yellow glow emits from a tall lamp tucked in the corner to my right, which stands next to a mahogany fireplace, a flat-screen TV mounted above.
Latoya returns a minute later with a bottle of aloe. Gently, she applies some to my cheeks and nose. The motherly affection radiating from her has tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
“There you go,” she whispers affectionately. “Now sit tight, I’ll be right back. ”
She scurries off toward where I assume the kitchen is, while her husband comes through the front door. He pauses when he sees me, and his brown eyes soften.
“You look worn out, my dear,” he comments. “Police are on their way. Do you need anything while we wait?”
I shake my head, feeling terrible for bursting into their lives in such a horrible way, yet so relieved that they let me.
“What's your name, sweetheart?” he asks, sitting on the matching couch across from me.
“Molly.”
“That's a pretty name, Molly. You can call me Devin. How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
My answers are robotic, and now that I'm… safe, I can't feel anything at all. None of this feels real. It's an out-of-body experience, and though I can hear and see everything around me, I'm unable to process any of it.
My heart rate picks up as Devin continues to pepper me with questions. Blackness leaks into the edges of my vision, and I begin to wonder if this is a good idea.
What if Rocco shows up, and hurts Devin and Latoya? Would that make me responsible for their deaths?
Images of Latoya and Devin lying in pools of blood flash through my head, their eyes open and lifeless. Senseless deaths. And it’s all my fault.
I shouldn't be here.
I'm going to get them killed.
My knees crack from how quickly I stand. “I-I have to go,” I stammer, feeling my pulse thrumming wildly in my throat.
Devin slowly rises to his feet, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.
“Hey, hey, you're safe now, Molly.”
I may be safe with them, but they are not safe with me.
“I just can't be here. They're going to be looking for me, and I don't want you and your wife to get hurt.”
A crease forms between his brows. “The poli—”
I dart for the door, nearly crashing into Latoya, who's carrying a glass full of lemonade. She gasps and stumbles out of the way, ice and liquid sloshing over the rim and onto her hand.
“I'm sorry! I have to go before they find me. Th-thank you for your help!”
Latoya opens her mouth, but I'm flinging open the front door and flying out of the house before she can manage a sound.