Kidnapped by the Bishop Brothers

Claim to Fame

Blythe

I dream of the night of the attack scene by scene. The only thing that's different is how Beth doesn't come to as I'm thrown into the truck. She lays there limp, lifeless, appearing dead as I'm driven away. Her unmoving form is the last image I see through the dust blown up from the road.

I wake up calmly, facing the empty space beside me on the bed. I furrow my brows, sitting up quickly, remembering how I had favored the floor last night. Terrence must have lifted me into the bed after I fell asleep. I don't know if he has slept beside me or not. The other side of the bed seems relatively untouched, absent of a bodily imprint.

I hear birds chirping outside of the window, settling themselves in the gutters just out of sight. There is no sun, just ash-colored clouds that are swollen with the promise of rain. I glance over at the clock. It's eight AM. The bed is so comfortable that I could roll over and fall back asleep but I know that is not the right card to play. Reluctantly I get out of the bed, introducing my toes to the cold wooden floor.

I don't smell too peachy. I could really use a shower. I ache a little bit, joints clicking as I walk towards the dresser to grab my clothes. I take out undergarments, jeans, and a sweatshirt from my university. My eyes gloss over as I look at it and I clutch it to my chest like a baby blanket. I take slow, ginger steps into the bathroom as I close the door behind me and lock it.

I let the shower run as I undress and I have goosebumps by the time I stand under the warm, running water. It feels so good against my clammy skin that I sigh and close my eyes, pressing my palms against the wall as I let the water pelt my back. My mind hushes itself and my muscles relax. I must take over an hour in the shower.

By the time I'm out of the shower my skin is pink and my fingertips are wrinkled like raisins. I don't want to throw my old clothes in Terrence's hamper so instead I fold them and shove them in one of the dresser drawers he has dedicated to me. My damp hair soaks the back of my sweatshirt and encourages the clattering of teeth as I approach the bedroom door. I do not want to leave the room but staying in here is doing me no good, either.

I bite my thumbnail as I stand in front of the door, tuning into some rock song from the 90's playing softly. My thoughts take a quick stroll down memory lane and I inhale as I open the door, stepping outside. Instantly I'm hit by the smell of cinnamon, bacon, and coffee, becoming aware of how peckish I am as I sniff the air, mouth watering. I remember just how delightful Terrence's cooking was.

I step into the kitchen and see the mess spread out amongst the counter. He's making my favorite breakfast: French toast, bacon, fried eggs and freshly cut strawberries that I catch him just putting in the fridge. His dark eyes widen as he looks at me.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

I don't say anything, rubbing my arm as I purse my lips and nod. He straightens up, closing the fridge door behind him as he motions to the rectangular island with four tall chairs, one occupying each side.

"You look beautiful," he says then adds without missing a beat, "please, have a seat. Make yourself at home. I'll get you a coffee."

I decide against being difficult and take a seat on the side of the island farthest from Terrence. This doesn't go unnoticed by him as he grabs a mug for my coffee and looks at me over his shoulder. He pours the coffee into the cup then flips the French toast and eggs. The bacon sits in the oven on the lowest setting, already cooked.

"The usual?" he asks.

I nod, rubbing my hands together nervously. I can't stop fidgeting and looking around, trying to spot useful things that could aid me in my escape whenever I form a reasonable plan. I will not be impulsive again. I know Terrence will not hurt me on purpose. I have time to be fastidious.

"You put me on the bed last night," I blurt as he hands me my coffee. Instantly I clasp my hands around the hot ceramic mug and take a tiny sip. It is perfect. Sweet and creamy just the way I like it.

Terrence chuckles lightly, referring to the coffee as he makes a joke.

"A thank you would have sufficed."

"Did we lay in the same bed?" I ask, ignoring his attempt at humor.

He clears his throat but his voice is still cheeky.

"No. I took your place on the floor. It wasn't very pleasant. My backs a little sore, actually. I wouldn't recommend."

My lip quivers as I try to stop myself from smiling, comparing him to a guard dog who sleeps at its masters side. I can't help but want to get along with Terrence in moments like this. I had loved him like a brother at one point. But of course one point is not now. He had destroyed everything.

"You could have left me there," I say, taking another sip of coffee. He gives me a look that reads are you serious.

He turns off the burners and adds the last pieces of French toast to the stack on a glass pie dish. He places one fried egg on one plate and two fried eggs on another, carelessly putting the other dirty dishes in the sink to deal with later as he brings the plates over to the island. He puts the plate with one egg in front of me, setting his adjacent, then grabs napkins and utensils and lays them out. Then follows the food, maple syrup, and whipped cream from a can.

I'm apprehensive to serve myself as Terrence takes his seat. The smell of his cologne overpowers the food but does not weaken my appetite. Still, however, I cannot bring myself to make any moves. I do not want to make myself at home.

Terrence seems to catch onto this and I don't miss how he rolls his eyes but accommodates me anyway. He takes my plate and loads it up with food and toppings. When he sets my plate down in front of me I am no longer shy, digging in as if it's a meal made by my mom. I cannot eat fast enough. I'm so hungry that I hardly even chew. Music still plays from the television channel he has it turned to.

"As good as it used to be?" Terrence asks as he pops a bite of French toast in his mouth, smothered in maple syrup and whipped cream like mine.I can't deny that I'm grateful.

"Yes."

"You were hungry," he says a bit sullenly. I think nothing of it as I respond through bites.

"I was."

"I should've made something for you last night. I didn't think you were starving."

I shake my head slowly, mannerisms becoming casual.

"I wasn't."

I jump as I hear a door slam from somewhere behind me. I turn around and see Spencer as he clips the corner and steps into the kitchen. It's strange to think that he's only a year older than I. His presence and stature makes him appear older. Something about him puts me back on edge as I slow down my eating.

"Terrence, my brother," Spencer says diabolically, a smirk etching his features. "how rude of you not to invite me to breakfast, especially when we have a visitor who doesn't come by often. You must not keep her all to yourself."

Terrence's eyes instantly become guarded, narrowing at Spencer before looking at me. His jaw clenches.

He doesn't want Spencer around but he suppresses the chance of conflict by saying, "forgive me. Grab a plate and take a seat."

"I will," he grabs a plate from the cupboard and takes the seat on the other side of me. "Respectively."

My appetite dies suddenly and I cannot take another bite of my plate. There is still a hearty amount left but the only thing I can do is nurse the rest of my coffee. I set down my utensils and rest my elbows on the island, silent, awkward. Spencer has always made me uneasy but it was manageable and ignorable then. It feels different in the present time. I think he knows it's different and exploits it.

Terrence still works toward finishing his plate and I keep my eyes downcast, sensing Spencer staring at me without rest. My hands begin to shake. I know Terrence won't hurt me deliberately but I'm not sure I can say the same thing about Spencer. He's the kind of person you don't want to be alone with for too long. He can make you unravel in the blink of an eye.

"So, Blythe," Spencer says from nowhere. I glance at him but that's all I manage. "what was it you went to school for again?"

"Editing."

"And you're graduated now?" I nod. "Did you get a job lined up for when you go...well, were to go back?"

My eyes sting and I delay in my response as my throat catches.

"Y-yes."

"Editing, huh? Sounds boring," he says, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "What inclined you to follow such a career path?"

"I-I'm not entirely sure," I admit hesitantly.

"Oh, well. I've heard they make okay money. Enough to sustain a decent lifestyle."

I nod. I don't know what else to say. It's challenging to carry a conversation when you're anxious. Nothing I say will be the right thing to say around Spencer.

"It must have been nice to come back and see your mum and Beth knowing that you have—had your future aligned," he says, tone mock-congratulatory. "You've always been smart. It's no surprise that you would have turned out successful."

"That is enough," Terrence snaps. "I know what you're doing and I know Blythe knows what you're doing."

"What?" Spencer says defensively with a strip of bacon hanging out of his mouth. "Can't I give my ex sister-in-law a little praise for good decisions? I mean come on, now. Who else is going to tell her she was doing good?"

"Shut the f**k up," Terrence growls. I look over at him with wide eyes but he's homed in on Spencer. He looks like he wants to rip out his throat. "your intentions are not selfless."

"Oh, and you're such a f*****g angel," Spencer says and I gulp, scrutinizing Terrence's shifting expressions. "is Blythe being here for her own good? Or do you just want precious little Sunshine all to yourself?"

"You hit Beth in the jaw with your gun. We all agreed against doing s**t like that," Terrence is irate, willing to use whatever shade necessary to paint Spencer in a bad light. "Don't throw in my face something we all willingly participated in. I did not act alone."

"Beth—"

I don't want to hear what Spencer has to say about Beth. They had never taken to one another so I imagine it's not very flattering.

I turn to face him.

"Don't."

"Ooo," Spencer coos, grinning as he eats another strip of bacon. "Sunshine has limits."

"And so do I," Terrence snaps. "get the f**k out. Go back downstairs."

Spencer dives into his piece of French toast.

"But I'm not finished my plate. What's the rush?"

"My fist to your face in about two seconds if you don't f*****g listen—"

Someone's cellphone begins to ring, intervening the tension. It's Terrence's. He groans and mumbles more explicit language under his breath as he pulls his phone from the side pocket of his jeans. He's prickled and disinterested as he checks the caller ID but the moment he sees who's calling him he stands up. The initial look on his face is that of concern but it diminishes to mild surprise.

"She's kept the same number," Terrence says as he walks into the living room to mute the music coming from the television. Realization dawns on me who he's talking about.

"Beth," I announce, perking up. The phone is still ringing when I swivel around on the chair. "Oh my God, it's Beth!"

"Yes. And if you're—"

But I don't give him the time to negotiate. I'm flooded with relief.

"Let me talk to her. Her voice...I want to hear her voice."

"Not right away," the way he says it sounds like code for not ever. He holds up his unoccupied hand in a patient matter and answers the phone. "Hello, Be—"

"Beth!" I scream, jumping off of the chair as I prepare to tackle Terrence for his phone. "Beth! Oh, God! I—"

But I'm grabbed from behind, one arm around my waist as Spencer's other hand covers my mouth to muffle my screaming. He backs us into a free space on the island, his grip on me firm. His lips brush my ear as he shushes me. I want to keep screaming but I cannot hear what Terrence says to Beth by doing so. Latching onto Spencer's forearm, my eyes water with desperation.

"—No, she's fine. It sounds worse than it is," Terrence reassures Beth, each sentence an answer to one of her questions. "She became excited when she found out it was you calling. Yes, she is fine. Yes, she is scared. No, I have not attempted anything. No, I'm not giving her back."

I whimper and attempt to spring ahead but I'm held in place.

"A deal is a deal, Beth. Do not make me remind you of this in front of Blythe," he looks over at me. "Yes, she can hear everything I'm saying. Yes, she is close enough that I can make out her eye color. No, she cannot hear you."

My chest is heaving, vision tunneled. I can only imagine how panicked her voice is.

And then Terrence says, "Yes, you may speak to her."

He nods at Spencer to let me go and there's the briefest delay before he does. I bolt away as I run towards Terrence who holds out his cellphone for me. I clutch it to my ear with both hands as though I'm preparing to receive bad news. Terrence doesn't move, continuing to stand guard of me as I sit down on the couch.

"Beth?" I breathe into the phone, voice and hands trembling.

"Blythe? Blythe, oh my God. Blythe. I'm so glad you're okay," I can hear her take a deep breath. "Well, are you okay?"

I'm unconvincing.

"Yes. Are you?"

A pause.

"Yes...no...yes, I guess. I'm so, so sorry this has happened, Blythe. It was never meant to be this way."

I can hear as Beth begins sobbing. She seems more distraught about everything than I am. She continues to talk but she's incoherent. I can't help it as I begin to sympathy-cry, removing one hand from the phone to cover my mouth in between ramblings.

"What happened?" I ask softly, remembering her claim to fame that this was all her fault. "How was it meant to be?"

Her breathing quickens.

"Not this way. I can't elaborate more but just...not this way. I'm going to get you out of there, I promise. I will not rest until you're safe."

Something about her statements prompt me to ignore them.

"How's mom?"

"She hates me right now and has every right. She's worried sick about you. Although she never requested I know she would be grateful if I told you that she loves you."

"Tell mom that I love her, too."

"Of course, Blythe, anything for you."

And it's funny. You'd think there would be so much to say but after Beth speaks there is silence except for the occasional sniffling and deep breath. There's enough solace in that. I find it allaying simply knowing she's on the other end of the phone and is just as speechless as I am.

But then she goes to speak again.

"Whatever you do, Blythe, don't—"

Terrence rips the phone from my hand and immediately I stand up to try and get it back.

"No, she was about to say something! Please, just give me ten more seconds! Please!"

He holds me back with one hand and hangs up the phone with the other before putting it back in his pocket. As soon as he does this fighting him becomes futile and instead I begin to retreat away from him. I'm still in hysterics, left in suspense over what unspoken advice Beth was going to give me. Terrence unmutes the television.

"She...she had something to say," I plead.

Spencer chimes in and I look over at him. His plate is finished.

"Wasn't important, I bet."

He drinks the rest of my coffee and makes his way downstairs, leaving Terrence and I alone. I turn to face Terrence again but he's already near, placing his hand on the small of my back as he guides me to the island.

"Keep me company as I clean up."

I sit down on the chair I had previously occupied. Once he takes my plate and cup I cross my arms on the countertop, bury my face, and cry.

What was she going to tell me? Was it important?