Well I finished writing and editing this around 6am...to be fair I didn't start until 2 or 3. I'm such an owl, LOL. At any rate, I'm too sleepy to comment on individual questions/concerns on the latest comments to this one. BUT a big THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Enjoy!
Stephanie's POV
I'm not sure how long it's been since Randy left Cody and Ted stranded at that gas station. I'd imagine no more than fifteen minutes. But I wouldn't be surprised if the utter stress of this situation is throwing my time perception out of whack.
Various scenarios may be the case here. The first is that the DiBiase clue really was only meant for me and that's exactly where we're heading. Simple and to the point. The second is that the clue was meant for everyone purposely...so that if and when his ex-accomplices go to the cops, they send them on a wild goose chase. And the third is that the clues were left so deliberately that no one will believe we're going to that house. It's like lying by telling the truth. The last place they'd expect us to be is where the kidnapper said we were heading to.
If the second option is the one Randy's chosen it leaves me to wonder where the hell he's really going. His house would be at the top of the list for a police hunt and it'd still take him several more hours of driving to get there. It seems both unlikely and risky. But the possibility of my night ending this way was so unlikely that it never even crossed my mind. And Randy clearly doesn't give a flying fuck about risk.
Even if he did perfect his plan and figure out how to evade the police, he was still faced with many disadvantages.
There's one of him and two of us. He's still hurting from the beating my husband dished out in the ring. That's why he was clutching at his upper body during the parking lot ambush. It's also what he needed Cody and Ted for. They were hurting, too...but not as much as Randy. And with Hunter knocked out and me by his side on the ground, we didn't pose much of a challenge.
But now? Randy's alone. Hunter and I are tied up so we can't walk. And Orton is in no physical condition to carry me. Even if he was in tip-top health he'd be in no position to carry Hunter. So he's got to have a plan. If I can figure it out maybe I can throw a wrench in it somehow.
The car veers off to the side and I hear the tires crunching gravel again. We're getting off of the highway.
"I know what you're thinking," Randy says suddenly.
I look up and he's staring at me using the rearview mirror.
Fuck you. Fuck you! FUCK YOU, you CRAZY son of a bitch! That's what the hell I'm thinking, bastard!
Randy smirks at me before turning his eyes back to the road. "No, we're not quite there yet. We just need a little bit of gas. Just want to make sure we don't end up stranded on the side of the road. And we've gotta pick up a couple of supplies."
We? What the fuck does he think this is, a god damn road trip? He seriously thinks I'm a willing participant in this shit? Does he think that I wouldn't throw him out of this car, run him over with it and drive off with my husband if I was given the chance?
Because I'm frustrated and just need to let it out one way or another, I start slamming the back of my head into the seat. It doesn't hurt at all since the seats are plush and leather. But it still feels more useful than just lying here crying my eyes out at random intervals.
Randy makes a disapproving sound of some sort before briefly turning around in his seat to look at me. I feel my eyes widening as his hand inches closer and closer to me. I try to jerk away but it's awfully unsuccessful since I'm already pressed into the seat anyway. I swear I feel like passing out from fear...until I realize that we're still separated by the second row. His arm isn't long enough to get to me.
He blows out a heavy breath and clenches his fist, pulling his hand back to the front. He waits a moment and then presses a finger to his lips. "Shhh. I know waiting is hard. Believe me do I know," he laughs casually. The sexual innuendo is evident by his amusement and blatant pun. "But we're gonna do this right, Steph. Triple H needs to see us consummate our relationship so that he knows you aren't his anymore. But I need to buy a couple of things in case he tries to interfere. In case he refuses to let you go."
My heart. It's not where it's supposed to be, doing what it's supposed to do. It's dropped and it's fallen all the way down to my stomach, I'm sure of it. I feel more warm tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. There's no other way to interpret what Randy just said. He's going to...to...attack me. God, I can't even say the real word even in my head! He's going to...do that. And he's going to have a weapon of some kind so that if Hunter tries to stop him, he'll hurt him. Or worse.
This can't happen. None of this can fucking happen. My kids need both of their parents. They don't need one of us to be fatally injured or a disheveled mess. If ANY of what Randy has just said comes to pass, I can guarantee that either or both of those things will apply to Hunter and I.
"I'm just gonna run in the store real quick," Randy says before turning around and unhooking his seat belt.
What the - I didn't even realize the car had stopped. That's how upset he made me. I can't take this. I just can't. At this rate, I'm going to have a stroke or heart attack before I even get the chance to fight back.
"You must be hungry. Probably thirsty, too because of all the crying," he points out as he opens his door.
Fuck you; I think that's my new favorite phrase where he's concerned.
"I'll grab you a thing or two and you can have it at the house. You'll need your strength...Now you stay here and be a good, quiet girl. But with the tape on your mouth, hands and legs I guess I didn't give you much of a choice."
More laughing from him. Another mental "fuck you" from me.
With his hearty chuckle, he slams the door shut. I listen very closely until his footsteps fade away. This parking lot doesn't sound overly crowded, but isn't deserted either. Obviously this has to be one of those damn 24 hour places. I'm sure that whomever came up with the idea of stores being open 24 hours had good intentions. They probaby thought of people with a nonfatal medical issue requiring medication or bandages or some shit. They probably thought of stoners and drunks who needed help sobering up.
Clearly no one realized the opportunities they were giving to kidnappers, rapists and murderers. To psycho people in general.
With my eyes closed, I start trying to scream but it just sounds like muffled, strangled groaning. Not loud enough for anyone farther than five feet from this car to hear.
"Steph," the familiar, low, gravelly voice of my husband says out of nowhere.
My eyes snap open and I force myself to stop the screaming. But my breathing is still heavy and frantic.
"Are you physically okay?" He asks from behind my row.
He's awake! He's awake and he's coherent! And he's able to think clearly enough to know better than to ask me if I'm emotionally okay. "Mmhhmm," I mumble from underneath the tape.
"You can't breathe through your mouth so you have to stay calm, baby. Just breathe in and out slowly. Okay?" Hunter instructs gently.
I say okay but I'm not sure if that's what it actually sounded like to him. Hopefully he just knows me well enough to know what the hell I'm trying to say.
"I couldn't let you know I was awake without Orton finding out," he says. "I'm beat up but I'll be fine so don't worry about me."
More tears. More erratic breaths entering and exiting my lungs, shaking my entire body in the process.
Hunter sighs sadly. "Please breathe, Steph. I know it's difficult. But you have to. I need you to listen and we don't have a lot of time."
He's waiting for me to calm down, I know. But I can't. He's awake and he's not brain damaged which is a huge relief and I'm happy about it. But at the same time, we're just as fucked as we were five minutes prior. Still tied up, still probably in the middle of nowhere. Still with a nutbag who's coming up with new ways to screw up our lives. And every minute we're getting closer to the place where he intends to execute those plans.
"Stephanie, I love you more than anything in this world and I'm going to find a way to get you out of this. I promise," he says with unwavering conviction and determination.
I worry about you more than I worry about me! That's what I want to tell him but I can't. It doesn't escape my notice that Hunter didn't promise that he would get "us" out of this situation. Just me. During this second relationship of ours, he has never once broken a promise to me. I want to make him promise to include himself in this vow to fight for freedom. That he isn't just going to give up where it concerns his own escape. But I can't because I can't fucking talk!
I need Hunter to survive this ordeal. I need him to go through and share life with me. I need him to help me raise our kids...I need him to be there to love me. It doesn't sit well with me that his only concern is for me making it out of here.
I hear a strange sound. Like the movement of some kind of material. A straining movement. "Ugh!" Hunter groans. "I'm trying to get the fucking tape off but when the goons or Orton was around I couldn't; it's too loud. I'm not sure I'll be able to get it all before he comes back. Baby, you gotta get him to let you talk. Then ask him to turn on the radio, put in a CD or something. Okay?"
"I'll try my best," is what I attempt to say.
"Huh?" Hunter asks, clearly confused.
I roll my eyes. Not at him but at the predicament in general. "Mmhhmm," is what I settle on because it's easier for him to make out.
"I've got two potential plans," he begins. "For both you need to distract him...be nice and sweet. Tell him whatever he wants to hear. Don't argue and don't piss him off; it'll make him more likely hurt you. Now...if I'm able to get out of the tape while he's still driving, I will kick the back of the seat. When I do that...you wait until you see an area that looks like it's populated. Like it's got a few lights nearby that may be houses or businesses. You tell Crazy that you need to use the bathroom really bad. Shouldn't take much to convince him because of how long you've been in here. He'll have to pull over and he'll have to untie your hands and legs. Insist that he stay in the car and not look. Say it's for privacy or dignity or some shit. Be convincing. Actually use the bathroom to throw him off and shift his focus. As soon as you're done just take the hell off running as fast as you can toward the lights. I'll jump out and fight him so you can get away. Don't look back, don't slow down. Get to the first place you can, stay there and get help."
This plan is stupid and I don't like it. Not one damn bit. Not because it's inherently bad or foolish but because it involves me leaving you to fend for yourself. If I know you, you've minimized how badly you're hurt so that I don't worry as much. It isn't working! Not when you're talking about fighting a soon-to-be armed Randy Orton in the middle of the night in the middle of the road.
None of this comes out the way I've intended. When I hear myself it just sounds like garbled, mumbled, panicked, sob-wracked protesting.
That must be what it sounds like to you, so you just start talking over me like I haven't attempted to say anything. "The back-up plan...when we get to where he's taking us that's our chance. He can't possibly carry both of us at the same time. Hell he probably can't even carry one of us at all. I don't know who he'll try to take first. But at some point...it'll just be you and him whether you're inside or outside. I could break free without him knowing, while he's trying to get you situated. He...he can't do what he wants to you unless he eventually unties your legs..."
Hunter trails off and I know what he's thinking. It's exactly the same thing I'm thinking. At this point we both know that Orton has made his intentions clear. I can't say the word. Hunter can't say the word. But we both know what his plan is where it concerns me.
I do my best to keep the crying silent. I know that I need to listen. After this, we won't be able to talk again until we're free. Until WE are free. I'm not leaving him behind, I don't care what he says.
"When he unties your legs...Steph you have to get your hands free and get out of there as soon as possible while I'm fighting him off. There's a spare key to the Nav in the center console. You use it, you leave and you get the hell to safety before you stop to call the cops."
I let out a deep breath to calm myself down. I need and want him to hear my reply loud and clear. Well as clear as is possible. "No!" I mumble.
"Please Stephanie," he practically begs me. "I can concentrate on kicking his ass better if I know you and the baby are safe."
The baby. Shit. In my resolve to stick to Hunter like glue, I completely forgot. It's not just about me. It's not just about Hunter. I have to consider the little person that's growing inside of me. Not that we did this entirely on purpose, but we really did conceive this baby at the most horrible time ever. Literally. Ever.
We love and want our baby. But the timing of this pregnancy couldn't have been worse if we tried.
That's the last thought Hunter is able to leave me with, as Randy opens the back door. He reaches over the seat and touches my cheek with his free hand. "Hello beautiful."
My only outward response is a blink. I can't say the "fuck you" that is in my head because of the tape. And because Hunter told me to be nice. To be calm. Not to piss him off. So that he might not be as inclined to hurt me.
And if he doesn't hurt me, he can't hurt the baby.
His eyes travel down my curled-up body and back up to my face. I can't read his gaze; not completely. He throws his goodie bags up to the front. I watch and listen as they hit the dashboard and fall to the floor. He shrugs at me. "Chips, water, knives," he says nonchalantly.
Knives? He bought knives? Oh my God! That's all I have time to think because the next thing I know he reaches over the second row and shoves his hands under my body.
When he tries to lift me, he lets out a loud groan of pain and stops. "Damn it! My fucking chest and stomach! Triple H is gonna fucking pay for this, I swear!"
I can't panic as much as I desire, because he tries to lift me again. This time he groans even louder but doesn't stop trying. He pushes through the pain to basically drag me up and onto the second row. Apparently not caring about being gentle, he lets my body just sort of fall onto the seats and I land on my side with a thump.
Orton takes his hands away and clutches at his torso, breathing in and out heavily. "There," he says with a wince. "That...that's better. Now you're closer to me."
Great. Just great. Cause that's exactly what I wanted - to be physically closer to the loon who's been systematically wrecking my family life and is now resorting to committing felonies.
Randy slams the door shut and leaves me, going back to his seat in the front. He settles in and starts the engine.
I mumble incoherently. I don't even know what it is I'm trying to say. I can't think clearly, but I don't feel any tears coming down my face. Maybe that means I look somewhat composed.
Randy turns around to me and screws his face up in confusion. "I can't understand you," he says plainly.
I continue to mumble and mutter, trying to force myself to look at least somewhat excited. Like I want to talk to him or something.
He arches an eyebrow at me. "If I take the tape off it has to go back on when we stop for gas, you know. And you have to promise you won't scream until the appropriate time," he says with a smirk as he puts the SUV in reverse and backs out of the parking space.
After putting the car in drive and heading off, he uses the mirror to make eye contact with me. If I'm not careful I'm going to throw up...and probably drown in it because the tape won't let it escape. I ignore the churning of my insides at his reference to screaming.
Randy makes me sick in every possible way, shape and form of the word. Looking back, I'm even more ashamed that I had ever winded up attracted to him at all. Not just because it felt like I was betraying Hunter but because he's an absolute whack job. I can't help but feel like this whole thing is my fault. That maybe if I'd been able to control myself better that one time Orton caught me alone in the locker room, things wouldn't have escalated to this point. While I resisted, I know it was clear to Orton that it was a struggle on my end. If he hadn't been sure I was attracted, he damn sure was after that night.
But thanks to my wonderful husband showering me with love and affection after genuinely trying to understand what I was going through, that attraction is totally gone. Hunter did have his moments of anger, disappointment and frustration with me. Rightfully so. But he didn't try to dish out any guilt; not beyond simply expressing his own feelings.
Hunter supported me; he was there for me and he comforted me. Most of all, he continued to love me and make me feel like the luckiest woman alive. He and I are so different this time around. Some of it has to do with the fact that we're parents. That's softened us somewhat. But we're also different with each other because we know what it's like to totally lose the other.
We're both committed to making sure that never happens again. But I appreciate him so much for forgiving me and giving me what I needed to beat this thing. I couldn't love him more if I tried.
Randy, on the other hand? He utterly disgusts me. But I don't show it. I can't. Instead, I nod my head eagerly, silently agreeing that I won't scream until he wants me to. Ugh.
He reaches back with the arm closest to me and rips the tape from my mouth in one fluid motion.
"Ah!" I yelp as I flinch against the seat, feeling like a layer of skin has been taken from my face.
Randy runs his fingertips across my lips several times. I swallow roughly and try to force myself to stay calm. Being able to talk has instantly made me even more nervous about this whole thing. Now our survival depends upon my acting skills. On me not saying all of the insulting yet true things that are in my head. On me being able to do what Hunter told me to so that he can get free.
"Mmm," Randy mumbles. "There's those lips I know and love."
I really hope Cody, Ted or someone has called the police and they've figured out where we're going. Or that news reports on our kidnapping are being shown and someone from the store recognized Randy and has called it in. Or maybe someone just reported him as suspicious because he's walking around with bloodstains on his head. Any of those is fine...and welcomed. Cause I seriously don't think I'm going to be able to do this.
The next chapter will most likely be in the 3rd person and we'll see the couple's attempts to escape. Will they be successful? Will Stephanie miscarry? Will her strange attraction to Orton return once he has her to himself? Will someone get stabbed in the process? Mwahahaha. LOL.
Drop your thoughts :-)