I’m bleeding?
I will myself not to open my eyes.
“Abby,” he says, and he does something I totally don’t expect. He pulls me into his lap and caresses my face. But then he slaps me, causing my eyes to involuntarily open.
I assess his condition.
His pupils are huge. His face is banged up. A gash above his eye is bleeding. And, most importantly, there’s neither a knife nor a gun in his hands.
I punch him right in the face.
He backs up, surprised, but quickly recovers.
He pounces on top of me, grabbing my wrist and ripping off my wish bracelet in the process.
I look at the little seashells—my hopes and dreams of getting my life back—scattered across the floor.
A moment of panic takes hold as the reality of what Vincent has already accomplished sets in.
He has Brooklyn and no one can find him.
I reach for my locket, grasping it and praying the cavalry is on the way.
But with the gunshots, the school would have immediately gone on lockdown.
How long would it take for them to realize we’re missing?
“What’s that?” Vincent says, taking the necklace out of my hand, ripping it off me, and tossing it aside. “That’s not from wardrobe. You can’t wear it.”
“But . . .”
He gives me a smug grin as he grabs my free hand, then pins my arms above my head.
“It’s just you and me now, Lacey,” he says, reciting a line from A Day at the Lake. “You want this as badly as I do, don’t you?”
He’s lost it. He doesn’t even know who I am.
I definitely pushed him completely over the edge.
I close my eyes, relaxing like Cooper taught me to do in a situation like this.
But then I decide to take a different approach first.
Because if it’s a scene from the movie he wants then that’s what he’s gonna get.
“I changed my mind, Vincey,” I say the lines I read last night in his new script.
“No! Don’t give me that bullshit,” he says, reciting the next line. “Matt changed your mind! You came crying to me about it! I told you to figure it out.”
Even though he’s acting pissed, his hold on me has completely relaxed.
It’s time.
I knee him in the crotch with as much force as I can muster then grab my backpack and swing it into the side of his head.
The force of the blow knocks him off me.
I move quickly, knowing I need to get Dallas out of here. I don’t want him to become Matt or dead partier number whatever in this crazy charade.
I kick the van’s back door open.
Vincent sits up.
Just like in the original movie.
He’s beaten, bruised, broken, and he still keeps getting up.
But that’s good, because I have to get him to tell me where the hell he’s keeping B.
Vincent grabs my hair, pulling me back into the van and causing the doors to swing shut.
“No! Don’t give me that bullshit,” he says, repeating the line. “Matt changed your mind! You came crying to me about it! I told you to figure it out.”
I manage to flip my body around, kicking Vincent’s arm in the process.
“Ow! Fuck!” he yells. “Abby, stop it. Stop screwing around! You aren’t being very professional.”
“This isn’t part of the movie, Vincent,” I say softly. “Tell me where Brooklyn is.”
Vincent’s face softens and he smiles at me. When he leans in to touch my face, I smash him in the head with the rock I managed to pull out of my bag.
He crumples to the ground.
I don’t waste any time. I grab Dallas under his arms, pull him out of the van, across the grass, and to what I hope is a safe distance away.
“Lacey!” Vincent wails from inside the van. His voice sounds horrific. Like a wounded animal’s.
I leave Dallas in the grass and run back to the van.
Throwing the door open, I find Vincent waving a gun at me.
“You didn’t fucking listen to me. You listened to him.”
“Tell me where he is!” I yell back.
“You’ll find out our location when we get there. Filming will commence immediately.”
“You’re hurt. The van is wrecked. How are we going to get there?”
He moves toward the door. “We’ll find alternate transportation. And if you don’t do what I say, I’ll kill him.”
I realize I have no option. I knew it would come to this.
And I knew, when the time came, that I’d go willingly.
“I’ll come to Egypt with you, Vincey. You’re right. I want you. All to myself.”
Vincent squints, knowing I recited the script but that they were his lines. It seems to perplex him for a moment.
He gets out of the van, waving the gun at me. “Get back in the van. We’re leaving.”
I have no idea how in the world he thinks we could leave. Is he going to flip the van upright with his brute strength?
That only happens in the movies.
That’s it!
I look him straight in the eye and imitate my mother when she’s mad. “Vincent Sharpe! How am I supposed to look good on set if you won’t tell me where to send my hair and makeup people?”