to Part 12

TWISTED--A Love Story
By Debwood
Part 11

"The dogfight starts now," decided Carrie. A small smile turned up her lips. "Alan, you don't have to worry. I don't want to run away."

Alan's eyes widened. "You don't?" he asked, taken off guard.
"No. I want to help you. I want to talk to you about this."

Alan looked at his true love strangely. "Talk about this?"

Carrie led Alan to the couch and sat him down. "You know, about how you brought me here. Alan, you're a good-looking guy. If you're interested in someone, you don't need to threaten them."

"I didn't threaten you." Alan waved the knife around, slowly. "I'd never do that."

Carrie attempted to bring her kidnapper back to reality. "But you did, Alan!" she said, sharply. "You're still scaring me, holding that knife. Why do you think you have to do this?"

Alan shook his head, deep in delusion, denial, or both. "I don't. I want you to relax," he chirped. "Make yourself at home."

Carrie shook her head. "I can't very well do that , with you holding a knife on me!" she countered.

That seemed to bring Alan back to some degree of sanity. "You're right," he sighed."

"So why don't you just put it away somewhere?"

Alan studied the knife, then looked at his true love. "I can't do that," he said. "But I can get us something cold to drink."

"Okay," sighed Carrie. "It is kind of warm in here."

Alan climbed off the couch and headed off to the kitchen.

It was the break Carrie hoped for. As Alan pawed through the refrigerator in search of sodas, Carrie leaped off the couch and tried the front door.

"Why isn't this door turning for me?" carried wondered as she wiggled the knob frantically. Her brow furled in frustration. "Aren't you supposed to be able to open a door from the inside?"

"You need a key to open that door," said a chilling voice.

Carrie jumped in sudden, unexpected terror. Before she could make another move, Alan wrapped his arms around his hostage.

He covered Carrie's mouth to muffle her cries. "Don't make a sound! I don't want to hurt you, Carrie. I told you that there's no way out. It's impossible to escape. Guess you leave me no other choice."

He dragged his beloved into the kitchen and shoved her into a chair. He produced a length of rope and began to secure Carrie's hands and feet to the chair. "I'm almost done," he said, as he tied the last knot. "It's not too uncomfortable, is it?"

"I've never been so uncomfortable in my life!" Carrie thought. "Alan!" she said, in protest. "You don't have to do this!"

"Yes I do!" spat Alan. He found a roll of duct tape in the utility drawer and cut off a large piece. "This is pretty strong stuff," he said, as he approached his hostage.

Carrie turned her head away. "Alan, you can't put that over my mouth! I won't be able to breathe!"

"You can breathe through your nose," replied Alan, dispassionately.
"I can't!" lied Carrie. "Not with my allergies!"

Alan paused. "You have allergies?"

"Yeah. And if you put that over mouth, I won't be able to talk."
"That's the point. To keep you from yelling for help."

Carrie knitted her brows. "Have I yelled so far? I could have yelled when you took me out of my apartment. What, are you planning on going off and leaving me here?"

Alan shook his head. "No."

Carrie softened her voice. "Then I wanna talk to you."

"About what?"

"Alan, we've been friends for a while, and I can't believe that you would think you had to force me to be with you. I don't understand it. It really upsets me!"

"You dumped me, remember? Just like all the others."

"What others? What are you talking about?"

Alan sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me! Alan, I want to help you."

Alan snorted, disgustedly. The tension in the apartment was so thick, you could put your fist through it. "You sound like all the shrinks I had to see. And they were all liars, too."

Carrie's voice was soft. "You were in therapy."

Alan's voice was thick, bitter. "They had this idea that they could solve everything. But nothing helps when you come from a screwed-up family."
"Are your parents divorced?"

"No. They should have been, though. They never should have gotten married."

"Why not?"

"They were always fighting."

"About what?"

Alan sighed. His voice was soft and wistful. "My mom. She was so beautiful. Guys used to stare at her. Flirt with her. Dad couldn't take it. He was just really jealous."

"Did he ever get violent."

"Yeah. Sometimes."

"Did your mom leave him?"

"Yeah. She didn't walk out on him, though. But it doesn't matter now."

A pause. "Alan, you've told me this much. Tell me the rest. What happened to your mom?"

"She died," Alan said, simply.

"I'm so sorry."

Alan climbed off the couch and paced the floor like a caged lion. "I felt really bad about it. But it was her fault." There were tears in Alan's voice. "She brought it all on herself when she died. If only she hadn't lied and cheated. My dad's the one I feel sorry for. I know what if feels like to be lied to."

Carrie felt goosebumps rise on her skin. "Alan," she ventured. "How did your mom die?"

There was silence in the apartment for a good two minutes. When Alan spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "My dad killed her."


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