“I’m sorry,” she whispered, holding my gaze. The agony in her voice sounded so real I almost bought it. Then I remembered—Mom wasn’t human. She didn’t have real emotions, not like the rest of us. Nobody who felt real emotions would do what she’d done.
“I want to apologize,” she said. “Please, baby. I fucked up. I see that now.”
“Fuck off.”
“I realized at the gas station—I haven’t seen you in five years. You’re different, baby. All grown up. I can’t quite believe it, can’t believe I almost threw you away again. Please let me talk to you.”
“There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.”
She frowned, reaching into her pocket. In that instant I knew something was terribly wrong and I reached for my purse right as she pulled out a gun.
“Drop it and step away from the counter,” she said, her voice cold. I dropped it, staring her down.
“I wish he’d killed you,” I whispered. She flinched, but her hand didn’t falter.
“You’re going to walk though the restaurant in front of me like everything is fine,” she told me. “We’re going to leave through the door on the far side, away from the hotel. Once we’re outside you’ll get into the car and we’ll leave.”
I shook my head.
“Go ahead and shoot me. I’d rather die than get into a into a car with you.”
“You’re not the one who’ll be dying. Teeny is outside, and he’s got your boyfriend in his sights. If you don’t do what I tell you, I’ll call him and he’ll take the shot. Start walking.”
—
The backseat of the car was full of garbage and old fast food wrappers. I sat across from my mom, glaring at her as she held the gun on me with one hand. She held her phone against her ear with the other. She’d thrown my purse into the front seat.
“I’ve got her,” she said.
Seconds later Teeny opened the driver’s-side door and sat down. I screamed and lunged for my door, because I hadn’t been joking when I said I’d rather die than go with them. Teeny slammed the car into gear, tearing out of the parking lot as Mom threw herself at me, smashing my head against the window. Someone had seen us. They had to have seen us. If I could just get out, they’d have to leave me behind.
“Calm the fuck down!” Teeny shouted over his shoulder. I took that as a sign that I should fight harder. Then he stomped on the brakes, sending me and Mom shooting forward into the front seats with a thud.
Teeny turned on me, raising his gun and pointing it at my head.
“I never liked you,” he whispered. “Believe me—I want to pull this trigger.”
“Don’t be crazy,” my mom begged. Was that a hint of real feeling in her eyes? “Becca, we don’t want to hurt you. This will all work out just fine—you just need to do exactly what I tell you. First up, I’m going to tie your hands and feet with this duct tape. You gotta settle down, sweetie. Otherwise you’ll hurt yourself.”
I stared at the gun, mesmerized. This was really it—I had to make a choice because Teeny would do it. I saw it on his face.
Suddenly I wasn’t so ready to die.
My stepfather glared at me, holding the gun as Mom fumbled with a roll of duct tape. I flexed my muscles, trying to buy a little extra wiggle room as she tied me up. Less than a minute later, she’d secured my hands, feet, and even put a strip of tape over my mouth.
Teeny grunted his approval and pulled back out into traffic.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Mom said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close like I was a little girl . . . like she wasn’t actively kidnapping me. “Mama’s here. I’ll take good care of you.”
—
We drove for a good forty-five minutes out into the desert, past our old house and down along a dry riverbed. Finally Teeny stopped the car outside a motor home. One of those old ones, like the kind Walter White used to cook meth in Breaking Bad.
Knowing my mom, she’d seen the show and been inspired by it.
It’d obviously been parked there long term, and I wondered if the thing could still drive. Probably not. They pulled me out of the car and I hopped awkwardly inside, Mom on one side and Teeny on the other. Sure enough, the camper smelled like cat pee—they’d definitely been cooking in here. Great. Knowing my luck, the whole place would explode.
Mom helped lower me to a small couch on one side of the camper. I think I expected an interrogation, but instead she and Teeny grabbed seats at the little table across from me. Teeny tossed my purse down with a thunk, and then he had my wallet out.