Breaking Free

I juggled baby girl from my left hip to my right and hiked my purse higher on my shoulder, pulling car keys out of my pocket. My car had a hard time starting this morning so we were parked on the outskirts of the parking lot, the consequences of being late. The lot was almost deserted and baby girl and I were the only ones hustling through. I could hear the click of my heels and the distant hoot of a barn owl amid the other night noises.

I beeped the doors unlocked, opened the door and slid baby girl into her car seat, buckling the straps snug and cooing softly into her sleepy face. I put my purse at her feet and shut the door carefully, opening my car door.

“Jess.” That one word, my name being uttered, chilled me. I froze. My ex stepped into my peripheral vision.

Taking a deep breath I forced a smile. “Alan. You know you aren’t supposed to be within one hundred feet of us.” I made my voice firm. “If you need something you can contact my lawyer. He’ll pass along the message.”

I was expecting it but he had always been quick with his hands and my head snapped hard to the right. I could feel my lower lip cracking open. I inhaled quickly and, with a speed that surprised even me, slipped into the car through the partially open door and locked it. Alan banged on the window, trying to break it.

Hands shaking, I put the key into the ignition and, saying a prayer, turned the key. Nothing. Just a click. Whimpering a little, I tried again.

Alan gave one last pound on the window and disappeared. I hoped he was gone for good but knew he didn’t give up that quick. With one hand I reached behind my seat, fumbling in my purse looking for my cell phone and with the other, reaching awkwardly across the steering wheel, I tried to start my car again.

Prayers answered, the car roared to life and I gave up trying to get the cell phone. Shifting the car into reverse, grinding the gears, I turned to look and saw Alan’s truck directly behind my car, blocking me in. Breathing heavy, I shifted back into drive and goosed it, trying to force my little Honda up and over the curb. The front tire bounced off the edge and the front bumper ground against the concrete. The engine whined and my side window shattered. Alan grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me through the window. When my foot slid off the brake the car stalled. The barn owl hooted again.

I was sobbing. Alan dragged me backwards towards his truck and I was begging and crying as I had done so many times in the past. His anger was palatable and I was terrified. Baby girl was screaming in the backseat, as terrified as her mama.

His fist caught my sternum, the wind was knocked out of me. Alan took advantage of my dazed state and pushed me into the pickup. I sprawled across the bench seat and tried to scoot to the other side. He grabbed my foot, pulled me back in and hit me again with something hard. A gun. I settled down.

“We’re going to go for a drive. We need to talk.” I nodded and carefully avoided looking at my car. I was praying he would leave baby girl. Her chances were better here and not with Alan. I was pretty sure I wasn’t ever going to see her again.

He picked up the interstate heading south, away from the city. He didn’t talk to me, nor did he look at me. He was going too fast for me to jump out of the car and, anyway, I wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t want him going back for baby girl. The lights faded and the distance between exits lengthened. We drove in silence for a half hour until he took the quarry exit. He turned away from the quarry, leaving the road and bumping through a field and into the woods. I hung on but he hit an especially deep rut. My head hit the side window but I didn’t feel it. I was numb.

He eventually stopped and opened his door, stepping out and stretching. It was dark and the stars were bright. I could hear another barn owl’s mournful hoot but other than that, silence. Just me, an owl, and a crazy man in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night.

Alan gestured with his gun for me to get out of the truck. I scooted towards him and he grabbed me, pulling me the rest of the way. I sprawled on the ground at his feet and he reached into the bed of the pickup and pulled out a shovel. Pulling myself up on all fours, I vomited in panic. Impatient, his foot rolled me over on to my back. I thought he would shoot me there, but he prodded me again and told me to get up. Shaking I made it to my feet. He handed me the shovel which I took. He led me further into the woods to a spot between two trees and told me to start digging.

I dug. The night noises sounded intense, but the image of the ground was blurred. I was crying silently, and it was hard to see through my tears. The barn owl hooted.

Forty minutes I dug. Alan smoked a joint, leaning against the tree, just watching.

“You know it didn’t have to be like this.” He started in on his lecture. I didn’t respond. I knew from experience that arguing would just infuriate him, so I stayed silent.

“You are such a bitch. I gave you everything and you went and lied. Told stories about me. Got a restraining order. Billy thinks it is because you were seeing someone else. Had to save face. You know how embarrassing that is?” He paused for breath and took another draw.

“I provided a good living for you. You didn’t appreciate it. You didn’t appreciate me.” He looked at me. “This is your fault, you know.”

Looking down, I kept digging. Sweat was pouring from my brow and blisters were popping out on my hand; I felt no pain. The silence around us was deafening.

And then the barn owl started hooting again. It started out as ordinary night noise, but the hooting continued, not a solitary call but a loud, insistent, continuous hoot. The owl sounded distressed, and Alan instinctively looked up into the dark sky, trying to see the bird.

I rose out of my grave and hit Alan with the shovel. I used my pent-up rage and fear and put my entire body weight behind it. The adrenaline compensated for the forty minutes of hard labor and there was a satisfying crack as the side of the shovel connected. Alan went down in a heap.

I ran. I ran back to the truck and wrenched open the door. He always left the keys laying on the front seat but this time, this one time he didn’t. I beat the steering wheel in frustration and locked the doors behind me, searching the truck for a weapon or a cell phone or something I could use. Finding a hammer and a screwdriver in the tool box, I gripped one in each hand. I was not going back to my grave.

Time passed and Alan hadn’t come through the woods after me. I cautiously opened the truck door and listened. I heard nothing, not even the owl who saved me. I slipped out and retraced my steps, quietly, hiding behind trees, walking towards the faint glow of the phone flashlight laying on the ground.

Alan was still there, still crumpled in the same place I left him. I could see one side of his head was sticky and shiny with blood. His eyes were open, and I could tell he was dead.

I plopped to the ground, breathing deeply, weighing my choices. After a few deep breaths, I walked over to Alan searched his pockets for the truck keys. After finding them, I climbed back into the grave and used the shovel diligently for another half hour, deepening the hole before rolling Alan into it. I turned off his phone, smashed it with the shovel and tossed it into the hole with him. Filling the hole was a fast process and I tapped the dirt down as best as I could.

I tossed the shovel back into the pickup and carefully drove it out of the woods, following the tracks that we had made on the way in. I turned on to the interstate, pulling over to the shoulder a few miles from the next exit. I locked the doors, pitched the keys off into the brush and used the screwdriver to puncture a hole in the back tire. The screwdriver joined the keys in the brush. I started walking.

A nice semi-truck driver pulled over and offered me a ride. I accepted and asked him to drop me off at my work. I walked through the deserted parking lot to my car and reached through the shattered window to unlock the drivers side door. Baby girl was sound asleep. I brushed off the glass from the front seat and turned the key. The car started immediately. An owl hooted a sleepy hoot.