Chapter 2 for you all. Unfortunately, this is all I have written of this story, so the next updates will take a little longer. As always, nothing belongs to me, and I'm sorry for any mistakes.
I hope you enjoy!
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"I have to use the potty."
Olivia's head is between the driver and passenger seats, looking at Clarke in irritation.
Clarke glances between her and the road. "Olivia, what are you doing? Sit back in your seat."
"But I have to go potty. Mommy, I can't hold it anymore. I don't want to be in here anymore." The girl slams her hand on the back of Clarke's seat, making it jump and Clarke rolls her eyes in aggravation as she grips hard onto the steering wheel.
She is so close to losing it.
She knows it's not her daughter's fault, knows that the girl is exhausted from having now spent five hours inside this damn vehicle, but after the day she's had and the terrifying situation they're now in, she's not sure she can take much more. But before she can open her mouth to scold the girl, her passenger beats her to it – in a much more diplomatic way.
"You shouldn't be out of your seatbelt," he says, matter-of-factly.
Olivia turns to their captor. "Why," she asks, petulantly. Clarke shakes her head, she knows for a fact that Olivia knows exactly why she needs to wear her seatbelt, has explained the consequences of riding without one to her numerous times after the girl complained about having to wear it.
"Because it's dangerous," the man explains, calmly.
She knows he's insane because of his calm demeanor. Not many people can handle being in a car with a crying baby and a cranky four-year old for two hours. But when Becca finally did start to cry and Olivia finally did wake up, in an even more irritable mood than when she fell asleep, he didn't get angry – didn't even groan or complain. In fact, despite her objections, he turned in his seat to talk to them, play with them, tried to keep them occupied while she continued to drive only god knows where.
He kept his gun hidden in his coat pocket - something she was keenly aware of.
After the first few suspicious questions about who he was and how he got here – apparently his name is Bellamy - Olivia began to warm up to him, telling him all about herself and their life. Clarke had tried to stop the girl's excessive talking – she didn't want this gun wielding maniac to know about her daughter's fondness for Dora the Explorer and dancing, their life was none of his business and she wanted him as far away from it as possible – but Olivia seemed more than happy to ignore her, excited at the prospect of talking to a complete stranger.
Yes, they've had the 'no talking to strangers' discussion. Obviously, when they get out of this, they should really revisit it.
"But I don't like it, it hurts," Olivia complains, rubbing her neck.
He raises his brows, looking in the backseat. "That's because you're not in a booster seat," he says, as his gaze travels to Clarke.
Her eyes widen with outrage when she catches his disapproving look. No fucking way was this asshole judging her skills as a parent. For a moment, she considers slamming on the breaks and bitch slapping him. But she quickly realizes that, that's not the smartest thing to do to a man with a gun.
Clarke shakes her head, glaring at the dark, snow filled road ahead of her. "We forgot it at my mother's," she says, between gritted teeth. "We hadn't been there in a while and all she had was a car seat for Becca," she explains. And why the hell was she defending herself to him. The man just kidnapped her and her children at gunpoint. She was sure her life decisions were far better than any that he's ever made.
He doesn't say anything back to her, only turning back to Olivia. "Well, you still need to be wearing your seatbelt." When the girl doesn't show any signs of moving, only looking at him with a defiant glare, he takes hold of her skinny arm, guiding her back into her seat as far as his arm can reach. "Now, make sure you put it on the right way."
Clarke can hear the metal and plastic of the buckle rubbing against each other as Olivia grunts.
"You need help," he asks, after a moment, as he watches her daughter.
"No, I-I got it," the girl grumbles, from the back and Clarke hears the telltale sign of a click.
Out of the corner of her eye she sees Bellamy shake his head.
"Don't move it behind your back, keep it on your shoulder."
"But it hurts, really bad."
"I know," he says, not an ounce of annoyance in his voice, "but we're almost there."
Panic shoots through Clarke's chest. "Almost where? Where are you taking us?" It's not the first time in these last two hours that she's asked that question, but it is the first time she asks it with such fear. They were almost there – wherever there was. He's taking them somewhere to kill them, her flustered brain thinks. If he wasn't, why would he let them see his face? Why would he be having them drive miles out in the middle of nowhere? What the fuck was she going to do? The only thing she knew for certain was that she would not let him hurt her babies.
His gun. He still had his gun in his right pocket. If she could somehow get ahold of it first… Sure he was stronger – she felt how strong he was in their earlier scuffle - and wrestling it from him would probably be next to impossible. But all she needs to do is point and pull the trigger. Two seconds, that's all it would take to finish this whole thing. To finish him.
He must be able to hear the alarm in her voice. "Just, calm down," he says, gently.
Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, despite his soothing voice, and she's quickly looking from him to the road. "Where the fuck are you taking us?"
He lifts his hand, palm up. "Hey, relax." His voice is sterner but it's still not helping with the crazy beating of her heart or the anxiety welling up inside of her.
Olivia must notice something is off, and she asks Clarke if she's okay. But she can't answer her, can barely hear her over the thoughts flying through her own head. She needs to think of something, anything.
"Do not tell me to relax! Don't even-" She shakes her head.
Bellamy licks his lips and eyes her like she's some feral animal. And she supposes she is, right about now.
"Okay, look I'm sorry, alright?"
"Why the hell didn't you just drop us off? Why didn't you just let us go?!"
He frowns at her. "Have you looked outside?" he nods out the window. "You want me to drop the three of you off in the middle of nowhere, when it's barely five degrees outside?"
Clarke eyes him, and she knows she must look crazed but she just doesn't care at the moment. "Anywhere! You could've dropped us off anywhere before you had us drive as far from civilization as possible!"
He's nodding his head placatingly while looking from her to the road. "Okay, just watch the road alright," he demands, but she's not listening anymore because she is so scared and just… so fucking done. With everything. It's not fair! A few hours ago she caught her husband cheating on her, then she was kidnapped, and now she's driving to her own death? And she just can't handle any of it anymore.
"Do you really think any of this is okay? What kind of person does this? What kind of person kidnaps people? Kids! Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Calm down, and watch the road."
She's shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all and her eyes begin watering as she continues with her rant. "I'm not going to let you hurt us! Do you hear me?!"
"I'm not going to hurt you, just calm down."
"You can just fucking forget it! I swear to God, I will-"
Suddenly, she's flying forward. Her head hits the steering wheel and she can feel the pain as it blooms across her forehead, moving all the way to the back of her skull and down the base of her neck. She winces at the earsplitting screech of metal, causing the pain in her head to throb harder, till everything is just… gone.
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Bellamy inhales sharply as his head flies back. He grits his teeth, groaning at the pain in his right arm. The sound of crying is breaking through his hazy mind, and he realizes it's coming from the backseat. He turns gingerly – aware of his injured arm he's keeping close to his stomach – checking on the girls.
Except for a small cut on Olivia's temple, neither of them seemed to be hurt. Relief floods his chest and he lets out a soft sigh. He reaches his left arm back, grasping tenderly onto Olivia's knee, trying to soothe the crying girl. "Hey." She looks up at him with red eyes and a bit of blood trailing down her face. "That's why you always wear a seatbelt," he says, with a small grin.
She nods her head slowly before looking at her wailing sister. "Can I take it off now?"
He nods back. "Check on your sister. Don't take her out of her seat, yet."
He looks to the woman next to him. She's not moving, but she is breathing and he thinks that, that is definitely a good sign. He gently lifts her head from the wheel, laying it back on the seat. The right side of her face is covered in blood but he can't tell where it's coming from. He tries to move her hair out of the way but it sticks to the tacky bodily fluid.
He grasps her bicep, shaking her slightly. "Hey. Hey, wake up."
She moans rolling her head to the side before finally opening her eyes. She doesn't move, only stares at him while he tries again to work her hair free from her sticky face. When he finally does, he can truly see her blue eyes and they're so clear – clean. He wonders if he stared into them long enough, would he feel clean? Could her gaze absolve him of his sins?
He blinks and looks away quickly – embarrassed by such ridiculous thoughts. This woman hates him, would likely kill him given the chance, and anyways, he's certain there's nothing that would free him from the choices he's made, and the consequences he's faced because of them.
"You need to stay awake," he says, when he sees her eyes start to close again.
Suddenly they open wide, along with her mouth. She goes to sit up only to find herself restrained against her seatbelt.
"Hey, relax." He vaguely remembers saying that exact thing not ten minutes before. It didn't work then and it certainly doesn't help now.
She scrambles for her buckle before finally getting it off, then she hastily turns in her seat.
"Mommy," Olivia cries out, as she sees her mother's face.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
He swallows hard, trying not to think about the blinding pain in his arm. "I think they're okay," he groans.
She gives him an angry look before turning back to her daughter.
He hears them as she checks them over, asks them about any pains they have. But his eyes are locked outside. The snow is coming down fast now, and they are truly in the middle of fucking nowhere. He was sure they were going in the right direction – was sure that they were close. It has to be close, they'd been driving for so long.
Clenching his jaw, he reaches across his stomach, using his left hand to open his door – he closes it swiftly, not wanting to let the warm air inside, escape faster than necessary. When he steps into the snow he sinks and the fresh powder makes its way inside his shoes, melting against his thin socks. It's only about three inches, but more is coming - and quickly.
Nothing but dark woods surround them and he's unable to see anything but falling snow, further down the small road they're on. He walks towards the front of the SUV and sees exactly what they hit – a fallen tree, completely covered in snow. It would've been hard to see even if she had been paying attention, he thinks.
The damage is substantial, and he knows they won't be going anywhere, anytime soon. Which is a problem, since its fucking freezing and only getting colder. He needs to get them out of here, needs to come up with something, otherwise they're all going to freeze to death, and he refuses to have any more deaths on his conscience. Especially ones that are undeserved.
As he tries to come up with an idea, the truck engine cranks behind him and he jumps. He turns to see the blonde, once again facing forward, trying to start her vehicle. He wants to tell her he's seen the damage and it's a lost cause, but he's certain that'll just piss her off. He turns back around, walking forward a bit till he hears a door slam.
"Where the hell are you going?"
She strides up to him as fast as she can in the snow, an angry look on her face. She must've cleaned it – except for her hairline, her face is clear of blood – and he can see a gash high on her forehead.
"We need to find shelter. Storm is coming and this is only going to get worse," he explains, gesturing to the winter wonderland around them. "Not to mention colder."
She shakes her head and crosses her arms against the cold. "So you're just going to what, walk out into a blizzard and hope you find shelter?"
He looks up and watches as the white clouds of their breath mingle above them. "It's not a blizzard, yet."
She scoffs and he can practically feel her rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yet. You go out there, and you die."
He looks at her sharply, his eyes boring into hers. "Why do you care, huh? I'm sure you think you'd be better off without me." She jerks her head back, and he thinks that he may have actually hurt her until he sees her eyes flash with annoyance. "Look, either I leave and I come back with news or I freeze to death out there. Either way, you win."
She watches him for a minute, deciding on something. "Would you?"
He knits his brow, blinking against the falling snow.
"Would you come back for us if you found something?"
He huffs, turning away from her as he shakes his head in aggravation. "No, I'd just leave the three of you here to rot," he says, sarcastically.
She steps closer to him – crowding him – looking up firmly into his eyes. "I want my phone back."
He forgot that he'd taken it from her. "I was joking," he mumbles.
"I don't care, I want it back. Even if you would come back, you could still die out there. And then where would we be?"
He chuckles sardonically. "And here I was thinking you were actually starting to worry about me."
She doesn't answer, only holding her gloved hand out for her phone.
He sighs before placing it in her palm. "Good luck getting reception."
She turns without another glance, quickly making her way back to the truck. He looks out at the glittering, empty road before him. He really hopes he finds something soon, because he really didn't want to die out here.
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Olivia sits in the front passenger seat with Becca standing beside her, both of them staring out into the wintery darkness beyond the Escalade.
Clarke is playing with her phone, trying to get any kind of signal. Damn that asshole, he jinxed her.
"Mommy, I still have to go potty," Olivia whines.
Clarke sighs, she hates asking her to hold it, but helping her four-year old, cranky, sleep deprived, daughter to squat above the freezing snow, with a blizzard coming their way, is not something that sounds very appealing. But as rewarding a job as motherhood is, it's full of the unappealing. "Okay, let mommy get out and I'll come around to get you on the other side, okay?"
"But where are we going potty?"
"Outside," Clarke answers.
Olivia crinkles her nose in disgust. "But mommy, there's no potty out there."
"It's okay, mommy's going to help you-"
"Bell," Becca yells, as excitedly waves her bunny around and screeches with a smile.
Clarke's jaw drops as she looks out the window and sees him coming back down the road, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched over against the cold wind.
"Mommy look, it's Bellamy."
Her heart beats faster and she smiles with relief. He's only been gone thirty minutes and she really hopes the fact that he's back means he's found something. Suddenly, she drops her smile – frozen in shock. She's happy to see him. Like, actually excited he's back. Sure she hoped he would find a way to rescue them from their predicament, but she's also just really, truly happy he's not dead. That he kept his word and came back for them. When she sees him, the weight in her chest lightens ten-fold and she feels like she can breathe again.
When the hell did that happen?
He trudges up as fast as he can around the fallen tree and up to her door.
"Did you find anything?" she asks, hopefully.
His lips are pressed tightly together and his jaw his shaking along with the rest of him. She notices for the first time, his thin coat and even thinner pants. He's not wearing a hat and she knows he has no gloves. What the hell was she thinking letting him leave like that.
But he just smiles and nods. "Found what I was looking for all along. Told you we were almost there."