“Is it just me or has that car been following us for the past ten minutes?”
I look over at the deep blue van sitting next to a house down the road. “We’re on foot. I think it'd be more obvious if we were being followed.”
Carina stares at the van. “Well they’re leaving now, But I swear they were sitting at that last stop sign.”
I shrug as we resume our walk. “Maybe whoever is in there is just driving around.” But a few minutes later we see it again, stopped at another stop sign, this time ahead of us. “All right let’s get out of here,” I say. There’s no way I’m sticking around to see how this story ends.
“Okay we should get somewhere safe. Like Burger King.”
I give her a look. “What?”
She looks at me. “What? I’m hungry. And there’s people in Burger King.”
“No, that doesn’t—'' I say but before I can even finish my sentence, I hear car doors slamming, pounding feet, and guns cocking.
Carina takes off — apparently not afraid to be shot — leaving me to catch up. I run hard and follow her as she rounds corners. She runs fast but it’s not enough. She skids to a stop and I slam into her back, sending us both crashing to the asphalt.
“Salem!” she screams, shoving me off.
I bounce back up and instantly hands are on me, yanking my arms back and pushing me to the van. I twist around in their hands, trying to wriggle free but they shove me hard and I fall through the open door. I look up at Carina and my heart clenches at the tears on her face.
“Shit! Th-that’s him! S-S-Salem L-Last! Boss said to leave him alone!” one of the guys in the back yells. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me out of the van then tosses Carina out. “Go, go!” He yells and the van peels away as fast as it came.
Carina and I look at each other, equal amounts of confusion on our faces. “What just happened?” we ask at the same time.
“They recognized me, I think.” I get up and pull her to her feet.
“How is that even possible? And even if they did, why would they literally throw you out of their van? I thought we were being kidnapped!”
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“So you two were almost kidnapped but then they let you go? Why do you think they would do that?” Officer Brown asks, his chin resting on his fist.
Carina shakes her head. “I was already in the van and then I heard yelling and I was thrown out.”
I fidget with my thumbs and mumble, “They threw me in with her but then someone yelled and threw me right back out.”
“What did they yell?”
I look up at the officer, noticing dark circles under his eyes and his slightly rumpled uniform and faint stubble as he writes on a piece of paper. He looks tired. “He acted like he recognized me. He seemed terrified, I think. He, uh, said something about his boss.”
“What did he say about his boss?”
Carina looks at me as I tell the story again with more detail, even down to the style in which they talked. I described how we were just walking and noticed the van so we took off but they came for us. I described how they grabbed me and forced me into the van. I described how they sped off right after. I described everything, again.
Officer Brown runs a hand down his face with a sigh. “And why do you think they recognized you?”
I tried not to act on my frustration and instead push my nails into my thighs. How many times do I have to tell him? “He knew my full name.”
Carina, sensing my frustration, stands up. “Look, it’s late and we’re all tired. We told you everything we can so I think it’s best we go home and get some sleep. Plus, after all that, I need Cuddles.”
“Well, I’m just trying to–”
Carina interrupts Officer Brown with a yawn. “If you have more questions, call us. But I’m leaving and I’m taking my best friend with me.”
Outside, I call an uber and we climb into the backseat, Carina first and me following in after her. I buckle up and she leans her head on me, closing her eyes.
“Where to?” the driver asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“Home,” Carina mutters.
I tell the driver our address and lean my head back on the seat, staring out the window. I watch as buildings pass and my eyes slowly close, sleep taking over my exhausted body.
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When I open my eyes again, I’m in bed, sunlight streaming right into my eyes. I hiss softly and roll over to find someone asleep next to me. Startled, I leap out of bed, pulling the blankets with me. “What the fuck?”
Carina groans and looks at me, sleep making her eyes droopy. “Get back in bed, I’m cold.”
“No!” I yell. “Why are you in my room? Get out.”
She rubs her eyes and sits up, stretching. “I had to drag your ass up here while you were asleep. You’re heavy. I’m lazy. So I just fell asleep next to you.”
“I don’t sleep with women.” I cross my arms, hugging the blanket to my bare chest.
My other roommate, Emma, chooses that precise moment to walk in. She looks at me then at Carina, interested in the conversation.
“You’re too gay to sleep with your best friend?” Carina asks.
Emma sucks in a breath. “Rude, Carina.”
I grab a pillow and throw it at her, the only other thing popping up in my head besides actually hitting her. “Get out.”
“How is that rude? He’s gay and apparently too gay to sleep with his friend.”
Emma grabs Carina’s hand and pulls her to her feet. She lowers her voice but I can still hear her from where I’m standing on the other side of the bed. “He knows you like him as more than a friend and waking up in bed next to you freaked him out. He wasn’t expecting it. Cut him some slack. You’d be the same way.”
“No I wouldn’t!” she whisper–yells.
“Can you both just leave me alone now?” I drop my blankets on the bed and pull my shirt on.
Emma pushes Carina toward the door and smiles at me. “There was a note left for you in the mailbox.” She hands me an envelope and leaves with Carina, who's mumbling the whole way out.
Once they’re both gone, I close my door, sit on my bed and open the envelope, pulling a folded lined paper out. The handwriting looks rushed but neat. It gives me deja vu, like I’ve seen it before.
My Salem,
Well, what an odd position we’re in, huh? My men tried to kidnap you, though I made it very clear you were to be left alone. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.
If you can’t recognize me by handwriting alone, that is a tragedy. You always loved my handwriting. Maybe it has changed over the years but it is still mostly the same. The person who the handwriting belongs to, on the other hand, is completely different. But enough about me. Those idiots. I swear I told them to leave you alone. You aren’t allowed to be involved in any of this, it’s for the better. I have a no-harm list. Your name is the only one on it. You should be flattered. I honestly can’t stand the idea of something happening to you on my behalf. Have you gone to the police? Those idiots did let you go, after all. If you did, this situation gets messy. Not unfixable, just messy. Annoying. A pain in the ass. But not irreversible. Leave the cops out of this or there will be no names on my no-harm list.
Burn this note when you’re done reading it. Set it on fire. Shred it. Get rid of it. Do not keep it. That would be stupid of you. And you, my Salem, are not stupid. Clueless sometimes, yes, but not stupid. And you have no need of keeping it. There’s no point. Turning it into the authorities won’t help you either. I have people on the inside who would die for me. Remember when you said you would die for me? Is that still true or have things changed too much for you?
I don’t need an answer. I need you safe. And out of this mess.
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- Goodbye Salem, GA
What the fuck?
I don’t know anyone with the initials GA. Certainly not someone who would find it tragic that I don’t recognize their handwriting. Definitely not someone who orders their “men” to kidnap people. I don’t know any criminals.
I move from my bed to my window seat, my legs tucked under me as I read the letter again . . . and again. I keep getting stuck at what they call me: My Salem. Like I belong to them. Like I’ve known them for a very long time. The only person who ever called me that was. . .
I sit up straight with a little gasp. I know who sent the letter.
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