I thought by now we’d run out of gas, but the fuel gauge has been slowly spinning in smooth circles, seemingly emptying before counter-clockwise refilling itself on an endless loop.
I haven’t slept again since waking up into this living nightmare. I haven’t felt tired. I haven’t been hungry. I haven’t even felt the need to use the restroom, which isn’t typical for me on long stretches in the car. All I feel is Richard’s smile. His lips curled up small above his teeth, bigger than I’ve ever known.
We must have been driving for hours at this point. My body and my mind know it’s been a long time. My legs are feeling restless. The clock on the center console has been cycling through numbers at random and it’s been impossible to tell the time since waking up. It’s obviously daylight out, but every time I look out the window, I can’t seem to find the sun.
An hour ago, I tried to call the police. At least it felt like an hour ago - the clock on my phone has disappeared. I opened the keypad and dialed 9-1-1. Phone pressed to my right ear, eyes glancing sideways at Richard, I held my breath waiting for the call to go through. After a few seconds of silence I pulled the phone away to check the screen; the display said “Calling…” with the ellipses writing itself over and over. The call wasn’t connecting. I hung up the phone, then tried again. Still nothing. I looked at the top corner of my phone screen to check the service. Instead of those little bars increasing in size or 4G or my phone carrier name, it said “NO SERVICE” with a little symbol next to it. I squinted, trying to make out the shape. I threw my phone to the floor with a gasp as I realized that the symbol was a smiley face emoticon.
About thirty minutes ago, I tried to roll down the window so I could get a better look outside. I kept the finger on the button as the glass descended, fresh air whipping fast across my face. I looked back at Richard to see if he would react. I was only met with that increasingly familiar smile. That awful grin. His face used to melt away all my fear and anger. Now, the wide eyes and wide smile fill me with terror, fill me with rage. I placed my free hand on the window as it lowered to feel the air. Then the window froze, and I noticed that Richard’s left hand wasn’t on the wheel anymore. He had locked the automatic windows.
“Why are you doing this? I don’t understand!” I had asked this question a hundred times by now, but each time my words were filled with more venom.
“Richard, please answer me! Are you just going to keep this up forever? What do you want from me? What can I-AHH!” I felt a searing pain as my right hand was being crushed in the rolled-up window. I hadn’t felt it going up as Richard pressed the button on his door. I desperately tried to yank my fingers free.
“Richard! Please stop! Open the window!” I was staring at him, tears streaming from my eyes, mouth agape in horror as the man I loved smiled back at me. That smile was the last thing I saw before I passed out from the pain throbbing down my arm. When I regained consciousness, my hand was free but on the window were the words “NO NO NO NO NO” in smeared red letters.
There have been other cars on the road. I’ve been frantically trying to get their attention. I wave, I scream, I bang on any surface I can reach. Hand still raw, I grabbed the paper map of the east coast that Richard liked to keep in the back seat. I had highlighted our route in pink with little stars marked stops I thought we’d enjoy. I rummaged in my purse for a pen. I dug the words “HELP” in big, blue letters across the map. I used my shirt sleeve to wipe away the bloody words to my right and plastered the map against the glass. I pleaded for someone to look in our direction. I couldn’t get anyone’s attention.
I started counting the passing seconds in my head. Five minutes ago, I decided I was going to jump. The exits were locked, but if I was quick, I could hit the unlock button and throw the door open in a matter of seconds. I knew we were going too fast and my chances of survival were slim, but that incessant smile is burned into my eyes, burned into my brain. I didn’t see any other way to escape. It had to be my best chance to get out. I stared straight ahead, trying to watch for any movement out of my peripherals, hands resting in my lap. I shifted my weight like I was just readjusting my posture, my left hand coming to rest over the seat belt release. I let out a hefty fake cough as I pushed down, releasing the buckle. The click was loud but Richard didn’t move an inch. I felt hopeful, looking at him with caution while I guided the seat belt into its retracted position against the car door. He smiled. He stared. I could see my face reflected in those huge pupils. Smiling. Staring. I could see my wide eyes reflected in his, my chest heaving with deep, anxious breaths. As I held his gaze, my right hand found the door handle. I grasped the cold metal, a rush of adrenaline spiking my heart. I counted down in my head.
Three, A bead of sweat dripped from my forehead into my eye. It stung, and I tried to blink it away.
Two. I gripped the door handle tighter, tensing my leg muscles for the imminent leap.
One. Did Richard’s mouth twitch? I hesitated. Was Richard still in there, behind the dilated pupils and faux smile?
I pulled the handle and threw my weight to the right, hearing the whistle of wind fly by my ears. My hair whipped about in every direction. Time was infinite; I turned back to face Richard one last time. Our eyes locked, his new expression now unwavering. He didn’t try to stop me. I leaned backward. I closed my eyes, about to hit the asphalt with nothing but a thin fabrics protecting my body. No matter the mangled outcome, I was going to escape.
…
I gulped in air to fill my lungs like breaching the surface of water after being submerged for too long. I was in our car. Same car. Same Richard. Same smile. Same road. Same broken console. Same inescapable madness.
I’m trying anything I can think of now. I’ve tried sending texts but they all fail. I’ve called every number saved in my phone.
Wait.
Every number except for one. I open the Favorites section on my phone, and press my thumb onto the first number. It rings.
Amazed, I look up to the cell phone holder on the car vent, where Richard’s phone is sitting. It doesn’t light up, it doesn’t vibrate, nothing. I pull my phone away to confirm that it is calling the right number. My phone is connecting to Richard’s. I slowly put the phone back up to my ear. The ringing stops.
“Hello, Evelyn.”