Unbullied

Chapter 6

Chapter 6Charlie didn't sleep much anymore. The nights were all about Conscience now.

He liked to text her at all hours--2 A.M., 3 A.M., 4 A.M., and all the times in between. He'd tell her about his latest victim and how she was coming along...how close she was to killing herself. And he'd talk about coming for Charlie someday and how that would be. He'd ask her how she'd like it to be when she died.

Terrified that he'd take drastic action if she didn't read and respond to his texts, Charlie stayed up through the long hours, waiting for the buzz of her phone. She clutched it in her sweating, shaking hands, dreading the next message she would see on the screen. And worrying most of all that there would be no message because he was finally coming for her.

She would sit for hour after hour with the TV and laptop off, listening for threatening sounds that signaled his arrival. Listening for the creak of a door or the tread of a heavy footstep on the stairs. Afraid to leave the house in case Conscience was waiting out there to do his work.

But tonight would be different. Come what may, Charlie needed to get away.

She felt claustrophobic in her room, in the house. When she thought about waiting there all night for Conscience's latest twisted message or move, she had what felt like a panic attack. Her heart pounded, her stomach ached, her breath came in quick, shallow gasps.

Whimpering to herself, she doubled over on the side of the bed, her dark hair hanging over her face. She craved fresh air, longed to escape, even if only for a little while...but how could she? Leaving the house would make Charlie easier to target; it would leave Mom and Tim unprotected.

Then again, would it really make that much difference? Conscience had proven he could come and go as he pleased. He could get to any of them whenever he chose.

And how much could Charlie really do to stop him, anyway? She didn't have a gun or any kind of fighting skills. She kept a big kitchen knife with her in the house at all times, but she could only do so much with that.

When she got right down to it, she realized, it didn't matter much if she was in the house or out of it.

That was why Charlie decided to go for a walk. Six hours after her fight with Mom, five hours after dinner, five minutes after midnight, she stood at the half-open door of Mom's room and listened. The light was on in there, but Charlie could hear the deep, regular breathing that meant Mom was asleep. As for Tim, he'd been asleep for hours and was a notoriously heavy sleeper; as long as Charlie didn't bang pots and pans over his bed, there was no chance that he'd raise the alarm.

Satisfied that she could make a clean getaway, Charlie put on her black hoodie and sneakers and crept out of the house. Locking the door behind her, she set out on foot under a cloudy, dark sky.

Her phone was back on her bed, switched off. For a while, at least, she'd be free from Conscience.

Unless he came and got her, that is.

Charlie wandered for hours through the streets of Papon Township--the suburb where she lived--and on into the nearest town, Vichyburg. The whole time, she kept her hood down and her hands in her pockets and didn't look up when cars drifted past.

It helped that there wasn't much traffic in Papon Township or Vichyburg on a Monday night. Often, she had the street to herself, as if she were the last girl in all the world.

The cool air and open space cleared her head. Best of all, without the phone in her pocket, she didn't have to worry about Conscience's texts. For the first time in weeks, she was actually able to put him out of her mind...almost. She could actually pretend she was free of him, finally free.

But not for long. Inevitably, she snapped back to reality. Because the hold he had on her was just too strong. As long as he threatened her and her family, he was the ringmaster calling the shots in this circus of fear. Charlie was just one of his victims.

By the time she made it to Main Street in Vichyburg, she could see from City Hall's clock tower that it was almost three in the morning. She wasn't the slightest bit sleepy, though, and she had no desire to go home. She thought she might stay out all night and watch the sun come up, in fact.

What she really wanted to do was keep walking forever. She wished she could walk away from Conscience and never come back.

She'd never wanted anything so much in her life. She could do it, too--just leave and start over somewhere else. No one was physically stopping her. As hard as it would be, at least she'd be free of the monster who was hounding her.

But then what would become of Mom and Tim? Would Conscience kill them just to have his revenge?

In a heartbeat. Charlie didn't have a doubt in her mind that he would do it.

So there she was, walking down the street alone, free to go anywhere...yet unable to leave. He had her right where he wanted her.

Charlie's heart ached as she wished for the millionth time that she could find a way out. A way that would free her from Conscience's trap without putting Mom and Tim in harm's way. If she didn't get out soon, she had a feeling it would be too late.

Then, suddenly, she discovered it was too late already.

Without warning, three masked attackers grabbed her from behind.

Charlie didn't scream; it wouldn't have done much good on the empty street at three in the morning. Instead, she clenched her teeth and fought back.

She thrashed wildly, straining to break free. She elbowed and kicked, lashing out as hard as she could at whoever had grabbed her. She even managed to land a few solid blows. She heard someone, a woman, cry out, and felt one pair of hands let go.

But the other two attackers held on tight; they simply overpowered her. Twisting around, Charlie got a quick look at them, and understood why.

They were full-grown men. Black ski masks covered their faces, but their frames under the black coveralls they wore were clearly those of adult men.

As much of a fighter as Charlie was, she was only sixteen years old. And she was the opposite of a brute--skinny and kind of gawky, more of a runner than a fighter. She'd rather be reading, watching movies, or playing role-playing games than participating in any kind of sports.

At least, that was how she used to be, back before Conscience started making her life miserable.

Was that who was behind this attack? The thought of it made Charlie fight harder than ever. Wrenching one arm up, she lunged at the man's hand holding on to it and sank her teeth into his black leather glove. Jerking one leg back and up, she drove the heel of her sneaker into the same man's thigh.

If she could just loosen their grip on her a little, she could snap free and run for it. She heaved forward, then bucked left, toward the man she'd bitten and kicked. His grip loosened ever so slightly...

Then, before Charlie could make her next move, the third attacker, the woman, stormed in front of her, carrying something made of black cloth.

It was a hood. Darting in close, the woman raised it with both hands over Charlie's head.

But Charlie wasn't going to let the woman pull it down over her face without a fight. She redoubled her effort, thrashing like a wild animal, keeping her head out from under the hood...at least until one of the men grabbed the back of her neck and held her still.

With a sudden movement, the woman plunged the hood down over Charlie's head, and everything went dark.

Disoriented, Charlie stopped fighting just long enough for them to restrain her arms with some kind of plastic strap that dug into her wrists. Was it a zip tie, maybe?

The next thing she knew, they were lifting her off her feet and hauling her away through the cool October night. She heard car doors open and felt her captors slide her into some kind of vehicle.

Her heart pounded like the heart of a pilot on a crashing plane, jackhammering with pure terror. The whole time, one name loomed in her mind, lit up with blazing red neon in the darkness of the hood: Conscience. Were they delivering her to Conscience?

If they were, this might be her last night alive.