Stealing Grace

Stealing Grace

Shelby Fallon

Preface

Not giving much thought to how she would live or die she ran. She ran from a place that threatened not only her physical body, but her conscience. This would now be a life of solitude and she could only hope that would be the worst of it. They wouldn’t follow and she wouldn’t care enough to wonder why.

What a shame. How could humans treat each other so inhumanely? How can you say love and mean hate? Elena knew there had to be something waiting out there for her, something more than trailer trash and indigence, though she felt far from special or extraordinary.

She didn’t know what love was and wouldn’t know it if it hit her in the face. Elena hadn’t tried to be selfish but what are you supposed to do when you’re defending yourself, mentally and physically, all day long, every day of your existence? How could she help a bum on the street when she could barely keep herself alive?

She wasn’t proud of her life, nor the distain she felt for her family. Lives wasted. Everyone was gone and she was alone. The worst kid of alone; a new city, new job with no money, no family or friends - alone. What would the price be for such a life? Was it to be hell for her then? Would her family’s sins follow her, haunting her or would she escape and build something new. Make beauty from ashes.

Chapter 1

Alex was wrestling with himself. The time had come. They said so and you didn’t go against them. He never did. His name had made it to the top of the list and there was no more waiting. Most were happy about this, but not Alex. He felt nauseas. He felt overwhelmed and apprehensive.

He would tell no one of his feelings because no one would understand. He’d do as he said he would, as he was told, and that would be that. He could do this. He could steal himself a wife.

* * *

“Where is he? I thought he said he’d be here right after the shift was over,” Elena asked Beth, her co-worker for the day, trying not to sound annoyed and set Beth on off another rant.

Working at the concert hall made it hard to get to know people, always working odd shifts with hundreds on the payroll. People drove from up state to see shows there in this little town off the interstate. It was the town’s claim to fame.

Elena liked Beth. She was a quirky teen with pigtails, a cheerleader no doubt, Elena thought. Not like it mattered what she was. After today she would more than likely never work with her again.

“I don’t know but he knows I have a term paper due in the morning,” Beth complained through her braces. “Rodney always does this and he knows we’re waiting on him up here and he just doesn’t care. It’s not like I need my paycheck or anything,” she added with sarcastically just as Rodney rounded the corner.

“Sorry, ladies, got held up,” he said as he handed them the paychecks without even stopping and walked out the exit door.

“What a jerk face.”

Beth had been throwing out funny yet immature insults all day. The guy who had her dump and refill his Pepsi 3 times today because he said she kept adding too much ice was just about to get a face full of it until Elena intervened.

Good thing he was wearing a hearing aid, and not a very good one at that. He probably would not have appreciated the “scum wad” remark, among others.

They walked and said their goodbyes they joked about how they’d never see each other again as they headed for the exit and into the parking lot. Same exit door, same parking lot, same jokes, different people.

Elena wasn’t really happy in her circumstances but tried to be content. She had always handled the hand she’d been dealt very well. Her grandma used to say ‘Your name should’ve been Grace, cause your overflowing with it’. Elena missed her.

Grandma was the only family she had spoken to in years and she had passed away 5 months before. Her family was a replica from some redneck parody movie; drugs, drinking, fights, cheating, wife beating, cops called to every family function. Elena couldn’t handle it anymore and had decided to just leave and see how far she could get before they decided to come and find here.

She was surprised that it had lasted this long. She was 22 and alone in this small town on the border, hundreds of miles away from anyone who knew anything about her. She liked it that way.

She didn’t own a car but the bus always ran and that was good enough for her. There was no one to impress here anyway. As she waited at the bus stop she looked down at the black high heels she was required to wear as part of her uniform at the hall. They were scuffed with black magic marker on the toe, thrift shop special. Her watch read 11:17. The bus was late, of course.

As she waited, she couldn’t help but let her mind drift back to the night she left. Her father, well, the guy she assumed was her father was once again drunk. Her mother was drunk too. He was hitting her mom but she was hitting him back. Neither was right. Everything was wrong but it was life.

Elena’s friend Chuck had helped her. She called him and asked him if he’d give her a ride to the bus station in the next town. She had a plan, a bus schedule in her pocket and one duffel bag of belongings over her shoulder as she started to climb out the window of her room.

Chuck had always had a crush on her. She knew it but didn’t feel the same. Even if she did, she couldn’t bring herself to allow anyone into her world. It was too embarrassing, even though Chuck and everyone else in town knew exactly what went on in her house at night.

The night her father had tried to get her to sleep with one of his friends in order pay off a debt was the last straw. It was now three days later, Chuck had quietly pawned off everything of value she had for her, which wasn’t much, and she called Chuck to tell him it was time.

He caught her duffel bag first as she climbed down the window, then her. He’d held her a little too long and tight. She could see he wanted to say something. Maybe ‘You could stay with me’ or ‘I could come with you’ or ‘This is crazy’. She didn’t give him time to. She pulled back from him, grabbing her duffle bag and ran to his car parked on the curb.

The bus schedule lay alive with promise on her lap as he drove. She memorized again the route she wanted to take, with many stops, so she couldn’t be traced.

She had only a couple hundred bucks when she got to where she was going. She hoped that’d be enough for a place to sleep and she would grab the first job she could get.

Chuck was quiet for the drive and when they pulled up in front of the station he grabbed her hand.

“I know why you gotta go. You’re daddies a piece of-” He sighed and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too. And you did help me. You got me out. That’s more than anybody else had ever done for me in this town. You’re a good guy, Chuck.”

“Ah, kiss of death,” he said sadly but playfully and chuckled. “You know I- I would’ve done anything for you.”

“I know and I’m grateful. Thank you.” She leaned over the middle console to hug him and he buried his face in her hair. “Thank you so much.”

She pulled away from him before he could say anything else and got out of his car. He sat there by the curb until she got on her bus and waved to him from the large back window. He waved too, slowly and sadly and then drove away. It had started to rain which fit the mood and situation well.

The bus sputtered and jerked as it went into gear and she headed for her first stop on a long route to somewhere far from there.

A door slamming brought her back to reality. She looked around saw someone across the street staring at her from under his coat hood. Had he been there the whole time? How did she miss that? Had she been talking aloud while thinking about her heels and staring off into space.
Embarrassing
.
He never moved and she refused to meet his eyes. What did she care if some random guy on the street saw her talking to herself? But she wouldn’t make herself look at him again.

She stood, silently for a minute, looking at the posters for apartments and wanted ads on the bus stop bench until footsteps behind her caught her attention. The guy was still there, across the street motionless. As she turned all she saw was darkness and something was slipped over her head. A bag of some sort, scratchy on her face.

She let out a yell, tried to scream but the phantom had her over his shoulder already, knocking the breath from her and was now taking large jarring steps. She was being put into a vehicle, she could hear the old engine and smell a horrible odor. Was the man still across the street? Did he see? Was he in on it? Would he try to help?

Oh no!
She thought.
They are going to kill me. I’m going to die. Why didn’t I scream? Why am I not screaming right now? What could they possibly want with me?

They drove off as the kidnapper jumped in behind her and she was thrown on the carpeted floor.
Gross
,
sticky. Oh, I don’t wanna die. Why haven’t they said anything yet? What’s going on?

“Go to station number one,” a scruffy voice with an accent yelled as the van made a turn that rolled her to her side.

He grabbed her and lifted her back up. She could feel his breath through the cloth bag on her cheek as he spoke.

“Don’t move, don’t scream, don’t try anything and you might live to see daylight”.

* * *

The ride was long and bumpy. Her back was aching from her awkward position. Her hands behind her and head still in a bag and she lay on her arms. She could hear the radio playing a country station.

The kidnapper was still sitting next to her, his leg touching hers. She wanted to move but there was no where to go.
What is all this stuff in here? Boxes. What could be in them? I don’t want to know. I wish I could sleep. Where are we going? Don’t think about it. Just don’t think. Sleep, Elena.

But sleep did not find her. Unfortunately, the call of nature did. She had had a large Diet Coke with Cherry as she always did at closing time. Diet Cherry Coke on the fountain was her one vice
.
How do you ask kidnappers to use the bathroom? Where would I even go?

Suddenly she thought of it no more as the van stopped. Now she was just afraid. Whatever she had been dreading for what seemed like an hour had arrived. She could hear them whispering. There were at least three of them, all men.
Why are they whispering?

She could hear doors opening and shutting, muffled voices outside. Now there seemed to be more than three. She didn’t dare move. She was frozen as she wasn’t sure if someone was still with her or not. Her breathing accelerated.
Oh God! Oh God! What do I do!

Finally she heard a door, then the cool breeze from outside on her legs. This was it. He pulled her across the floor and grabbed her, lifting her over his shoulder again. Probably the same guy she assumed.

She tried to steady her breaths as he carried her. She didn’t want to die like this but she wouldn’t let them see her freaked. They would get no enjoyment from her begging. She would be strong.
Should I scream for help now? Would anyone hear me?
She was too scared, and it was too late.

Inside a building of some sort, she thought she heard water trickling. The man brushed her hair against the door frame on his way in, not caring apparently if she hit her head or not and wasn’t being easy with the jostling or his inappropriate hand placed on her behind, over her khaki pencil work skirt.

It was hot. So hot in there. She was already starting to sweat on her forehead. She could feel it, stinging her eyes as she couldn’t wipe it away. He threw her down on a musty old couch. Her hands were still tied so she couldn’t brace herself for the fall.

Though the couch was soft to some degree she still jerked her head with the landing. She could hear voices and movement. Stacking boxes? Unloading the van, she thought.

Suddenly she heard a whimper. She gasped. Was there someone else here on the couch with her? Should she ask to find out? Had they grabbed someone else and she just didn’t know it? She heard lots of male voices, shouting orders, some in Spanish. Her Spanish was non-existent anymore. She had barely passed with her D in high school, thanks to Mr. Gould. He wasn’t Spanish either but was so precise about the dialect.

She had learned little from his class and unfortunately remembered none of it for this. One of the voices said “girls’. She heard that; girls plural. And she heard the word ‘puta’. She remembered all the boys learning all the Spanish curse words and she remembered that one.

Whore.

He had called them whores, but why? Is that what he thought they were?

There was someone else here with her. Elena knew she would be just as scared as she was. She should say something. She very quietly and innocently cleared her throat just loud enough for someone close to hear. She heard a gasp.
Oh! She heard me! She’s got to be thinking what I’m thinking right now.
Freaked to find out she’s not alone but also sad that there’s someone else in this mess.

“Hey,” a whisper behind Elena.
What is she doing? Can’t she hear them right near us?
“Hey,” the voice again called quietly.
Here goes
.

“Yes,” Elena said so low she could barely hear it herself.

“How many of us are there?” the young girl’s voice asked shaking.

“I don’t know, I thought I was alone,” Elena answered still a little upset at her own sudden happiness to say those words and find that she wasn’t.

“Strip them down and get them into the back room,” a new male voice said.

All the girls heard and gasped and whimpered.
Strip? Did I hear him right? No! No!

“All right, listen up, ladies. I want you all to stand up where you are and once your hands are freed by my pal, Ramón, you can grab off your hoods and take off all your clothes; everything but underwear and bra, everything. Even jewelry, hair bows, socks, and shoes.”