(Anonymous Point of view)
I gulped down the last bit of my beer. Not because it was good, but because I had nothing else to do, but worry about her.
If they ever found her, they would definitely torture her. Probably right in front of me. It was all a game to them. A gamble if you ask me. I didn't want that life for anyone. It wasn't a life. It was a slow death.
I crushed the can as soon as her former state flashed into my head:
Flashback:
Her forehead was bleeding.
I could tell because the black bag that covered her head was wet. I winced.
If she just listened, the boss would've gone easy on her, but that woman always had a mouth.
Even from the day that we first met.
I sighed.
As usual, when anyone touched her face, she'd bite them. This time was no different. I was actually concerned that she would be the first girl to get killed because she did not listen. So, I was shocked when they told me to deliver her to Cleveland. They never sent out the wild ones, so I assumed that she generated a lot of money.
Nevertheless, she did not deserve this. No one did.
My jaw tensed up the same time that she did. This was her second time travelling. I didn't think she liked it, but if I were in her position, I would've preferred it over staying in the Dungeon all day.
I carefully lead her to the back of the van where I chained them so that they could not stab me while we were driving. I did the usual. I soaked the towel in chemical that made them pass out, and I kept one tied around her nose. As soon as she passed out, my rough exterior cracked.
I kissed her on her forehead and called her by my sister's name, Elizabeth, who I promised to avenge. Aware that we might have had an audience, I jumped in the front, and started the van.
End Flashback
That was 4 days ago, and since then, neither of us looked back. Only one of us knows the true story. I made it that way so that they couldn't kill her for information that she didn't know.
They took my sister 4 years ago with a promise to return her and reunite us if I serve them during those 4 years.
At first, it made sense. I was a high school graduate, so I told my parents some nonsense about finding myself. Though it was a heartbreaker, it wouldn't be their ultimate one.
A year after I left, they divorced, and then the next year, I attended my mother's funeral. My heart broke. Not only was my sister snatched from me, I never got a chance to say goodbye to my mother.
I never cried once. I couldn't, so I went to the gym. I dyed my Mohawk hair platinum blond, and I added both of their names on my shoulder. I didn't stop there. I got my cartilage and my nipples pierced, and I picked up on the guitar when I wasn't over by the dungeon.
After all, I only drove the women to the designated spot.
I did not linger to see the cash exchange. I didn't even go to the Dungeon on a regular.
The women didn't know my face, or even my name. They never knew that I was one of them, which I liked. It was the only way to save Elizabeth. Or so I thought.
The day that I took Rachel to Cleveland, the Boss resigned my contract. Of course, I questioned my service and reminded him about my sister, but apparently, the option to get out of there alive and with my sister was "not in the cards." He simply gave me an excuse, so I gave him something to think about when he realized that Rachel's tracking device was inactivated and discarded.
Hopefully, he didn't guess that we came to New Jersey.
I left her to go fend for herself. Risky, but she wouldn't have trusted me if I told her that I was her capturer and her hero in one.
I rubbed my now brown freshly shaved head as I glanced once more at the name on my New Jersey license: NOAH PUCKERMAN, my father's biological name.
I considered going back to Ohio to say goodbye to my father, but if I went back, I'd be a dead man.
I sighed.
I sat in the same spot in my new truck for almost 2 hours.
Hoping. Waiting. Praying that my plan would work out. I did this because I cared about her because she reminded me of my sister. My sister.
For the first time in years, my emotions caught up with me as "Fantasy" by Da Truth caused me to reflect.
I banged my fist against the steering wheel in frustration. I didn't stop until my hands were pounding.
Out of sheer exhaustion, my whole frame crumpled over the steering wheel. I closed my eyes as tears formed.
"Don't cry son. Do something about it." I heard my father offer. I smiled a sad smile as I pictured him propped up against my doorframe with his arms folded.
All of a sudden, I realized what he meant when he said that. I started the truck and took off in the middle of the night.