Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty. We did it, guys! It hasn't been a year yet (it will be next month) and I have disappeared for extended periods of time twice, but I have managed to write through all of my school stress, and this thing is over 100,000 words, and now fifty chapters. Yeah!

I know that this is a long way off, but I hope to have this story wrapped up by my first day of school (September 7th). I go to an IB school, and this fall marks my first year in the IB (International Baccalaureate) Program. It's a really stressful program, and I doubt I would be able to update more than once or twice a month. Consequently, I hope to have Dripping Seconds wrapped up by then. Don't worry, I won't disappear from this website. I'll probably start a new story sometime this summer, but I want this at least to be done because I've been so inconsistent when it comes to this story at times.

Thank you to all of my reviewers who enthusiastically greeted my newest chapter/reappearance. I've missed you all.

This chapter goes back and forth between Maggie's point of view and Jasper's point of view, but unlike past times where I've used this tactic, they are both in the first person. I will be writing a "So-and-so's point of view" before each change, to make it easier for you to understand what I'm doing.

By the way, I have a different computer now, and it doesn't accept my British spellings. So now I use American spellings. I find this highly frustrating.

Enjoy!

Jasper's point of view:

"She can't be gone! She can't be gone!" I said, refusing to believe what my hands and eyes and ears were telling me. Quickly, I unzipped her sleeping bag, laying it out flat, praying that by some sort of miracle she would miraculously reappear, looking at me with sleepy and confused eyes. Whitney was awake now, and I saw a slow realization forming in her eyes, the thing that I didn't want to realize, didn't want to understand.

Maggie's dad was standing behind me, looking at her sleeping bag. "I'll call the police station. Stay inside. One of you, call Jasper's house. Check to see if everyone is fine there. Jasper, can you call them?"

"No! She has to be here! She's upstairs! She has to be here! She can't be gone! She can't be!" I ran upstairs, away from Henry's darting hands, climbing the stairs and rushing into her room, and then the bathroom before I stopped, giving up. She was gone. I burst into tears. Downstairs, I could hear Henry searching for my phone.

"Uncle B?" I heard him say, sounding frightened. "It's Henry. I'm using Jasper's phone." He paused, listening to my Dad. "Maggie's gone. She's gone, Uncle B. I don't know where she is. Is everyone there?" Another pause. "Okay, good. I've got to go. The police might be coming soon. Stay inside, okay? Stay safe. Give Mom and Dad my love." Another pause. "Jasper's really upset. I'll keep an eye on him. Bye."

I climbed back down the stairs. Henry was looking at me, my phone in his hands. He reached out to me, and I let him hug me. "Your dad says to be safe. He says he loves you."

Maggie's point of view:

My hands began to burn with the cold, even in my pockets. It was dark in between the trees. I wondered whether or not, should I be able to get into the trees, he would be able to see me and shoot me. But he was standing less than a foot behind me, and I knew the gun was pointed at me. The graveyard was large and empty, there was no one else there, late at night, there was no one visiting the remains of those they loved. I shouldn't have come; I shouldn't have come by myself in the dark at night. I shouldn't have done this. There was no one to come help me; no one knew where I was. If I screamed, someone might have been able to hear me, but they wouldn't be able to find me in time. And he would shoot them too. He would be willing to do that for his revenge. It was worth much more to him then the lives of some random stranger in a graveyard.

"This way, Margaret," William said suddenly and grabbed onto my elbow, yanking me abruptly off-balance. I tripped and stumbled, falling into the snow and scraping my hands, which I had put out in front of me, hoping to catch myself. "Get up!" he said sharply, not worried about being quiet. He must have known what I had realized, that there was no one who would be able to come in time, no one who would be able to stop him, and no one around to hear him. He didn't have to be careful.

I raised myself out of the snow, and got into a standing position. My knee hurt, I'm sure I hit it on some rock hidden in the snow. William grabbed onto my arm again and yanked me forward, walking too quickly, his long stride much longer than my shorter legs. I had to struggle through the snow to keep up with him, and I stumbled often, feeling clumsy and stupid. I, somewhat stupidly, hoped at least to die with dignity, though he didn't seem willing to give me that.

At one point, I tripped again, crashing into him, and managed to knock him slightly off balance. He fell into the snow, and I got up more quickly then he did. I tried to take off running into the trees, hoping that the play of shadows on the snow and the echoes in the graveyard and the trees surrounding us would buy me enough time to hide and eventually escape. I had almost made it to the trees when he took off after me. In three strides he overtook me, and knocked me into the snow. I felt his knees pushing into my back and felt the snow on my face, driving into my open mouth, even up my nose. This was familiar, too similar to what Idiot had done to me. He is going to choke me. I thrashed, struggling to get free, but he was much stronger than I was. He held my head in the snow with one hand, the other hand against the back of my neck.

Suddenly, the weight was gone from my back, and he yanked me upwards, rolling me onto my back so that I could breathe. He kept one hand on my neck with a grip not tight enough to choke me, but tight enough that I felt like I was going to choke. I coughed several times, struggling to get the water and snow out of my mouth, and weakly clawed at his hand, trying to get him to release my throat. He slapped me, his glove scratching roughly against my cheek. "Look at me," he commanded. I opened my eyes and nearly screamed when I found his face inches from mine. "You little idiot," he hissed, inches from my face. I could feel his breath hot on my face, which was still cold from being pressed in the snow, though it burnt where I had been hit. I didn't breathe in; scared his breath would be as vile as his voice. "Never run away like that. You can't get away from me, Margaret. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will kill you. I won't forget you. I've waited this long, I can wait the days, weeks, years that it will take me to find you again. You are hopeless. You don't have any hope. You don't have anywhere to go but beyond the veil, to the afterlife, wherever it is you think you go when you die. No one can get you; no one can save you, understood? That boy isn't here today. Your daddy isn't here today. You never were strong enough to get away by yourself. And now you are alone. This is the end of you, Margaret. Tonight you die, so it's just easier if you accept it now and come along without a struggle." He yanked me upright once more, releasing my throat. I gasped several times, and put my own hands where his had been. "No more of that, okay?"

I nodded. His grip on my arm was so tight that it hurt, but I was afraid to try to pull away. He was walking quickly again. As the trees rushed past us, I thought I saw faces watching me and hands and arms reaching out to take me to wherever it was I was going this night.

Jasper's point of view:

I could hear my heartbeat in my chest, and every sound was too loud. The wind around the house was enough to startle me. I was even terrified by my own stomach growling. At every sound I expected to feel a gun pressed against me, or a knife, or a hand around my throat. Henry was silent, Whitney was silent, and I was silent. Mr. Winnock was now silent, though seconds ago he had been trying to dial the police; he stared with frustration at the phone, which refused to cooperate. The lines are dead, again, just like they were at the farmhouse. The storm knocked them out. My mind takes awhile to think of the reason for it, and I felt stupid once I finally figured it out. "Jasper, I need to borrow your phone," Mr. Winnock said, frustrated. He set the useless phone down on the couch, and held out his hand for mine.

I removed the phone from my pocket and quickly checked the reception. I saw that the reception was very poor, and swore internally. Nothing seemed to be on our side this day. "It isn't working very well, but here, you can try." He took the phone from me and dialed for the police. He waited a few seconds, before getting someone. "Yes, it's me. Maggie's gone. We don't know when, but she's gone. What? I can't hear you, you're breaking up, please speak louder, I can't hear you. Yes! Maggie is gone! My daughter! Margaret!" The line went out, and he stared in frustration at my phone. "Their line is gone. They, assuming they understood me, should be here in a matter of minutes." He swore suddenly, and began crying. "Why couldn't you leave her alone, William? Why can't you just leave us alone? Why did you have to go after her? Why couldn't you be content with just me? Why couldn't you just leave her alone?"

Maggie's point of view:

After what felt like a long time, but could have been much shorter, we finally stopped. I looked around, trying to analyze the area for any possible escapes, no matter how implausible, or any materials I could use as a weapon. I came up completely blank, a feeling that I hated almost as much as I hated William himself.

I was at the edge of a small ditch, maybe seven or eight feet deep, with sides that were just sloped enough that a tall someone, with a lot of effort, could get up if they found themselves inside the ditch. I realized that, while standing at the bottom, no one would be able to see a person inside until they got right up to the ditch. Also, trees were scatted both around the edges of the ditch, blocking it from view, and inside it, making it perfect for concealing something. I estimated the amount of space in the impression to be approximately five feet by ten feet, including the trees. Not a lot of room, but definitely enough for a grown man to murder a sixteen-year-old girl, especially when the sides were too steep for said girl to get out easily by herself, and said man had a gun.

"In you go," said William, and he gave me a hard push on the back. I let out a cry as I felt myself fall, and then landed on a pile of snow. William jumped in after me, landing just inches from me, and I stumbled upright, giving myself a distance away from him. I realized that I couldn't feel my hands at all, and I wondered if I was beginning to get hypothermia, or if they were simply numb from ending up in the snow so often without gloves. I was shivering, even with my coat, and my sweatpants were completely soaked, clinging to me. I drew my hands to my face and observed that they were pale, the skin under my nails turning a grayish blue. This isn't good. I'm probably becoming hypothermic, if I wasn't already from these last few minutes. I can't stay out here. His coat is a lot warmer than mine.

I looked over at him, and noticed that he was looking for something behind some trees. I couldn't see his face, but I could see his back, which meant that he couldn't see me. I looked over to the edges of the ditch. I could see how someone his height could get out with only minimal difficulty, but seeing as I was about a foot shorter, I couldn't imagine how I would get out by myself, even if I was left alone without being at all incapacitated, which wasn't going to happen. I glanced back at him, and then at the sides in all directions. There was a branch hanging down at one point, but I didn't know if I could grab it and drag myself up in time.

"Don't even think about trying to get out," William threatened darkly from the other side of the ditch. I wondered to myself if he could read minds. "I will shoot you. There is no one here to hear me do so, or to hear you crying for help. Just stay put and stay quiet, I'll be over there in a couple seconds." He waited for a few seconds and then continued. "Crying really irritates me. Just stay silent."

I decided that, in light of past experiences with him, I would avoid irritating him, and would therefore remain silent. He was going to kill me anyway, but maybe this was I could avoid a beating before hand, or perhaps could keep him from trying to burn off energy killing Jasper or Henry or Whitney or Dad or someone else, like Whitney's little sisters, or even a random stranger. My heart beat suddenly in my throat. How did I know he wouldn't? How did I know he would be content just killing me, that ending my life wouldn't bring up some sort of monster within him, causing him to wreck havoc and kill people across the city?

I couldn't know if he would or wouldn't. I would just have to hope, and try to avoid giving him any reason to even think of them, let alone go after them.

According to his promise, he came over in about thirty seconds, holding something in his gloved hands. I couldn't see the gun at his side, but I knew it would have to be around somewhere, and I didn't want to risk being shot in the leg or something, if it was concealed somewhere. I wouldn't die immediately if he did, but I would certainly bleed everywhere, and then all hopes of escape would immediately go out the window.

"Follow me," he commanded. I followed him to a tree towards middle of the ditch. I could still see the side that we came down, the side that anyone who would come to find me would come by. "Kneel down," he commanded. I knelt in front of the tree. He grabbed my arms and yanked them behind me, and I felt him tie my wrists tightly together. He then tied my ankles tightly together, first removing my boots. "Stay right there," he said, looking into my eyes, and pointing to a cluster of trees about two feet away from me. "I am going over to those trees. I will be able to see you, and I will be back shortly. Don't try anything…stupid."

I could hear my heart racing in my chest, and could feel it pound in my throat. As much as I had accepted that I was going to die now, I still found myself terrified when I realize my death is moments away. The snow had already soaked through my pants completely, and my legs were freezing. I could feel the water climbing through my socks, and knew that soon the same would be happening to my feet. I will become badly hypothermic if I don't get off the snow soon, assuming I'm not already. Maybe he is going to make me freeze to death, though that doesn't seem personal enough for him.

He came back holding something that rattled, metal on metal, in his arms. I couldn't see it clearly, but knew from previous experiences that it sounded like a chain. Sure enough, he sat down near me and untied my wrists, pulling my arms behind me and causing them to meet on the other side of the tree, which didn't have a very wide trunk. He tied my wrists together once again, and attached one end of the chain around my wrists, wrapping it tightly around the side of the tree, drawing it over my chest, and around the tree again, this time drawing it over my waist. I lost feeling in my hands almost immediately. He took a second chain, which was much longer than the first, and attached it around my ankles and drew this chain around the back of the tree, crossing it over my midsection again, then across my shoulders the second time around, then across my waist, and then across my chest before attaching the end to the first chain. The chains were much thinner than your average industrial chains, I estimated them to be about as wide as my thumb, but were very solidly constructed. There was no way I would be able to get free, or even to stand from my kneeling position to protect my legs.

He crouched in front of me as though to survey his handiwork, and then pinched my nose shut. I quickly opened my mouth to take in breath, and he shoved a wadded up piece of cloth into my mouth. He took a roll of duct tape out of his pockets and tore off a strip, taping my mouth shut so that I couldn't spit the cloth out. "Be good, Margaret. I'll be back soon." He paused to look at me, and then added, "by the way, I covered up your tracks, and I'm going to lay false tracks going in the opposite direction" He held up my boots. "No one will find you here."

I watched in silent, helpless terror as he climbed the side of the ditch, leaving me completely alone.

Jasper's point of view:

The police car eventually drew up to the side of the house, and police officers rushed in. I could hear them making note of the mess of footprints on the front porch.

"Okay," they said, once they came in. "We've found what we believe are her tracks along with another set, potentially William's. They went towards the main road. We have people and dogs following it right now."

"What can we do?" I demanded.

"Nothing. Just stay here, we should find her soon. Just stay inside, just in case. We'll keep on man here, and one at the Bartlett house." Seeing my furious expression, he put one hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay, son. We'll find her."

Maggie's point of view:

I wasn't sure how long it had been, but if felt like a long time. I had given up trying to get free quite a while ago, and was no longer trying to call attention to myself by shouting. There was no way anyone would be able to hear me with my gag. My hands and feet were completely numb, and my thoughts had become sluggish. My breathing seemed slower, and I had to struggle to stay awake. My eyes closed, and then I would force them open, only to have the cycle repeat. My nose, which had run from the cold, was slightly blocked up, making it harder for me to breathe with my mouth duct-taped shut.

I opened my eyes to wake myself up, and saw William crouching in front of me, watching me. "Hello, Margaret. You've been out here for forty-five minutes. How are you feeling? You're seeming sort of frozen." He put one hand to the side of my face; his skin seemed to burn on mine. "Yep, you're nearly a block of ice. Poor girl. See you soon."

He left again. I was alone again. I felt myself beginning to cry, and then stopped. The tears were freezing to my face.

Jasper's point of view:

She had been gone, at least, forty-five minutes now, probably even longer. She would have to be nearly frozen now. She might even be dead. My head was spinning. I couldn't think. Where was she? Was she okay? What had he done to her?

A policeman was rushing up our driveway. I threw open the door before he could get to it. "What happened?" I asked him.

"We found her boots…we think her tracks were planted, that she was put somewhere else and we've been following a false lead."

"So where is she?" I said, desperately.

"We don't know. We're trying to find her right now. The dogs are on her scent. We'll find her. Don't worry, Jasper. We'll find her."

Maggie's point of view:

"Margaret, wake up!" Someone was shaking my shoulder. "Margaret, it's me."

I opened my eyes drearily. My face was numb. I could hardly breathe. "Margaret, you're done. They're nearly onto your trail." William said this in a quiet whisper. "You're done. You're going to die now. It's okay. We're done."

I looked at him, confused. I tried to move my tongue in my mouth, but I could barely move it.

He held up a needle and I struggled to focus my eyes on him and the needle. "This will put you to sleep. You know what happens when you go to sleep in cold weather?"

I struggled to remember, and I couldn't. My brain was completely clouded.

"You die, Margaret. You freeze to death. It's okay. I'll inject you and leave, and they'll find your body. You won't feel anything."

The cold…go away…?

Because my arms were behind me, who moved off to the side of me, where I could no longer see what he was doing. He rolled up my sleeve and I felt him press the needle against the skin of the inside of my elbow. I whimpered into the duct tape as I felt it go into my arm, and then felt the cold of the liquid enter me.

"It's over, Margaret. You did well, but it's over. Go to sleep. I've done what I came for, and we're both done. Go to sleep."

The voice faded away, and I let my eyes close.

Jasper's point of view:

"We found something!"

The policeman jumped, and looked at his walkie-talkie, and smiled.

"Where?" he responded, talking into the walkie-talkie.

"There are scattered tracks in the graveyard…can you come over?"

I didn't wait. I grabbed my shoes, shoving them on my feet, and ran outside, sprinting towards the graveyard as fast as I could.

"Jasper!" Henry shouted. I heard him follow me. "Jasper, what are you thinking?" I turned to see him following me, Whitney close behind. "Never mind… I'm with you, Jasper. Thinking is for people who think. Let's go."

We sprinted towards the graveyard. I followed the tracks of the policeman. Eventually, we came to a giant ditch. A policeman was crouching at the bottom, next to a small bundle that was leaning against a tree. Another policeman was staring up at us. "Jasper! Henry! Whitney! What on earth…never mind, get down here, one of you, the rest of you stay up!"

I took a flying leap, knocking the wind out of myself as I landed on the pile of snow. I ran over to the policeman near the tree. He was crouching in front of Maggie, a series of chains near him that look to have been broken by a large rock nearby.

"What's wrong with her?" She was terribly pale, her mouth was duct-taped shut, and she seemed to be asleep.

"She's badly hypothermic. Get her back to the house. You need to get her warm, immediately. We don't have time to call an ambulance just yet, and the power lines are kind of sketchy."

I picked her up. "Where's William?"

"Somewhere around here, I think. You have to get back to the house quickly. She can't be asleep in this weather." The policeman practically threw me up the edge. Henry grabbed onto me to steady me, and we took off running. Somewhere in the woods, footsteps ran by us, and a shot rang out.

"I hit him!" yelled someone. "I hit William! Call an ambulance! He isn't dead!"

I started running again, ignoring the call of the policeman. One of them could answer it. I was busy. I made it back, and Henry opened the door for me.

I set Maggie down on the floor of the living room. "Maggie! Maggie! Snap out of it! Snap out of it! Wake up!"

She opened her eyes blearily and then closed them again.

"No, wake up! Stay with me!"

Mr. Winnock was calling 911, and Henry was relaying the message about William.

"Maggie?"

She mumbled something and I removed the duct tape. She turned onto her side to spit out what looked like a ball of cloth. "Jas…"

"Yes, it's me. Stay awake for me, okay. Here, blankets. Here," I wrapped a blanket around her. "Your pants are wet," I said. Her ankles were tied together, and I quickly untied them.

"I've got dry clothing," Whitney said. She helped Maggie get her pants off, and put dry ones on. Then, she removed Maggie's jacket. "Her shirt is still dry, here's my sweatshirt." She slid it over Maggie's arms and zipped it up immediately. "Her socks are soaked, so is her hat. Get them off." After I removed Maggie's socks, she put on dry ones. "Oh, God, her feet are like ice. Get her in a sleeping bag now. Is an ambulance coming?"

"I called the ambulance. They should be here soon, another one is going to the graveyard." Mr. Winnock came over. "Maggie?"

"Dad…" she said, and then stopped, nearly going to sleep. Mr. Winnock took her shoulder and shook it.

"You have to stay awake. Stay awake!"

"My arm…"

I took her arm, and rolled back the sleeve. There was a needle mark on the inside of her elbow, along with several rope marks on her wrists, which I assumed were from being tied up. The needle mark confused me. "What happened?"

"He…needle…" she closed her eyes again, and I shook her awake, quickly shoving her, blanket and all, into the nearest sleeping bag. I unzipped another one and laid it on top of the one she was in.

"Did he give you something?"

She looked at me blankly, and then held up one hand in front of her. "My fingers…blue."

I took her hand in between my own, wincing as they sat, ice-like, against my palm. "Here, I'm warm. Stay awake. Keep talking to me."

"Siren…"

"You hear a siren?" I froze, listening. An ambulance was coming from the distance. "That's good. The siren is good. Where were you?"

"Graveyard…went to see…Mom…"

"You went to see your Mom?"

"Will I?"

"Will you what?"

"See her…" her voice was getting fainter.

"No. No. We are going to the hospital, we'll get you warm, and then you'll be fine. You'll be fine."

"William…"

"They shot him. They've got him. It'll be okay. We're safe."

"Safe."

"Yes."

"Jasper?"

"Yes?"

"I saw Mom…in the stars…" she closed her eyes again, and I couldn't shake her awake.

"She's asleep," I said to Henry, who was standing behind me. "Now what?"

"The ambulance is here," Whitney cried.

The paramedics burst in, picking her up. "One of you needs to come with me. The rest stay."

Mr. Winnock went to leave with them, and I followed him to the door. As I watched the ambulance flash away, I looked up at the sky, into the stars.

"What did you see?" I whispered to myself. "What did you see by yourself in the dark, thinking you were going to die? Did you see the same things I saw in the dark, or did you see better things?"

An owl cried out in the night, and I slammed the door shut, turning back into the house immediately, surprised to feel tears on my face.

How do we ever know what is in the dark?