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Thursday, April 18, 2013

Q is for Quentin

I have joined the group  "Blogging from A to Z" .  This is a  a month long challenge to write a short story everyday and each day corresponding to the letter of the alphabet.  I have linked up the site - simply click on the name so that you might read any sort of short story from the huge line-up available.  The stories are supposed to be short so that many can be read, quickly.  Simply a titillation of talent.  Happy reading, and thank you for joining me.  My sister-in-law is writing under "Vicki's Place" currently her placement is #1259.  If you are catching this on my Facebook or as an e-mail follower my number is currently #1324.  (people drop out and the numbers contract) 

Q is for Quentin

“I tol’ you not to fall in love wit’ me.”  He brandished the gun in her face. “I tolt you that right from the start.  I tolt you I ‘uz gonna hafta kill ya.  I even tolt ya to make a run for it.  But you jus’ hung around.  You jus’ had ta be all friendly and purty.”  He paced back and forth in front of her cage. 

She put her best smile on.  She batted her eyes while she thought of what to do next.  “Quentin”, she started slowly, drawing his name out so that it seemed to be a full sentence by itself.  “Quentin, you know you did this to me.  You made me fall in love with you.  You also know when you and your Papp took me, you were gonna fall in love with me.  There ain’t nuthin’ to be done but wed me.” 

Having seen, first hand, the hold Quentin’s father had over him she was playing the only card she thought she had.  Yes, he had told her to run – if she could.  Legs hobbled like a horse, hands cuffed behind her back, and a large gag in her mouth when left alone, she hadn’t been able to run anywhere.

The two men had snatched her from the back of the restaurant.  Closing down the diner, she had taken the garbage out to the dumpster.  The two men had jumped her, thrown a cover over her head and pushed her into a trunk.  With her hands tied behind her, she had kicked out a tail light.  To no avail, there was no one behind them on that dirt track into the hills. 

Her mind had raced through every self defense posting on Facebook she had ever seen.  Kick out a tail light, scream, do whatever your captors said, make them see your humanity, and make them take you in as “theirs”.  Anything to stay alive.  That was six months ago.  Now everything was beginning to unravel.

“Quentin, you and I could leave this place together.  I have some money saved up.  All you have to do is unlock my hands.  We could be miles away before anyone knew what was happening.  We could have a place of our own.”  She smiled as sweetly as she could.  It wasn’t much considering she was as frightened as a rabbit trapped in a dog kennel. 

Quentin scratched his dirty hair with the hand gun.  He could never be accused of being the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn’t nearly as hog-wild mean as his kin.  Quentin hadn’t hit her nearly as hard as the others.  Quentin had been the one to remember to bring her food and allow her bathroom privileges.  As kind as he could be, he had been.  Befriending him, might just pay off.  Befriending him, may save her life.  


1 comment:

  1. Interesting story. Hope I never have to be in her place, but she 'is' smart because she's still alive. Great 'Q' word.
    Kathy at Oak Lawn Images