“Mom!” I say a bit too loudly, suddenly furious. Her eyes widen in shock, but I keep talking, not giving her a chance to say anything else. “Have you always been religious?”
She freezes in place. “Of course I have always believed in God. What’s going on with you?”
“I—what I mean is”—I take a deep breath—“was there ever a time you didn’t live your life according to the Bible?” I want to give her a chance to come clean on her own. Tell me the truth about who she really was back then. It won’t change how I feel at this point, but it will gain her back some points in respect.
“Nevaeh! That’s enough!”
“Just tell me,” I command. I could easily throw Stephen’s words in her face. Tell her about the diary he found. But I want her to own up to it on her own. It’s time she takes some ownership of her actions.
“Now is not the time or place to discuss this. Please go home and change your clothes. You look like a whore,” she whisper-yells, and I’m taken aback by her choice of words. My mom never talks like that.
“There is nothing wrong with this dress. It covers me completely, and how dare you call me that!” Especially when you were the one whoring yourself around when you were younger, I think but don’t say.
“Nevaeh, go home.”
“No! Answer me.”
“Was this your brother’s doing? Did he corrupt your thoughts? I knew he would eventually do this. We’ll talk about your inappropriate behavior later when we’re alone.”
At the mention of my brother, my heart constricts. She has no idea her son is dead and never coming back. And for a brief moment, I almost feel guilty for further destroying our family. But then I once again remember Stephen’s final words to me, and I know this is necessary.
“Fine,” I say, my thoughts of Stephen causing me to become emotional. It feels like I haven’t even had time to mourn the loss of my brother yet. I’m numb, simply going through the motions. “I’ll see you at your house, but this conversation isn’t over.” I turn on my heel and walk out of the church without waiting for her to respond.
Opening the doors to the church, the bright sun momentarily blinds me, and before I can adjust my eyes, a heavy piece of material goes over my head and a hand covers my mouth, as I’m lifted off the ground. I try to kick and scream, but the hand covering my mouth successfully keeps me silent.
A few moments later, I’m being dropped onto a hard surface and then my hands are bound together behind my back with what feels like rope. I try to scream as loud as I can, but the second the sound of something slamming shut hits my ears, I know it’s fruitless. I can’t be sure, but I’m almost positive I’m in a trunk.
And then the sound of an engine roars to life, the vehicle jolting forward, and my suspicions are confirmed. I’ve been kidnapped, thrown into a trunk, and am being taken to God knows where.
Using my feet and bound hands, I try to feel around. For what, I don’t know. The trunk is very small and I can’t feel anything but the hard surface I’m lying on.
Unable to do anything at the moment, my brain goes into overdrive. Stephen was killed less than forty-eight hours ago, and now I’ve been taken. I have no phone, no way of letting anyone know what’s happened, and my last conversation with my mom was us arguing, so she’s going to assume I’m just ignoring her. My parents are about to lose both their children and they don’t even know it. There’s no way whoever took me is going to keep me alive. It can’t be a coincidence I was taken shortly after I saw my brother lying dead on his living room floor.
I’m about to be killed.
I can only hope he kills me quickly like he did to my brother.
And then a sad thought occurs to me: I’m going to die before I’ve even lived.
I’m not sure why I think of that right now. Maybe it’s kind of like when people say the moment before they die, their life flashes before their eyes. Only I don’t really have much to flash. My thoughts go to my list tucked away in my drawer. Only a couple items crossed off. The easy ones. The ones my mom would be proud of. Except the last few, like getting drunk at the club and kissing a stranger. Those were for me. Those were me finally living.
And now I’ll never have a chance to do the rest.
The vehicle comes to a stop, the engine silencing, and then bright lights appear. I can’t see because of the sack on my head, but it’s bright enough, the lights shine through.