The Questions We Ask, chapter 6

The phone rang again. "What do you want, you noisy chicken?!" I yelled into the receiver. All I heard was heavy breathing. "Tre?" I looked at the caller I.D. It wasn't Tre.
"I know you're alone," a voice said.
"Who are you? Dad? Mike? Jase? A very sick and twisted Tre?" No answer came. "Hello?!"
The line went dead. I dropped the phone and screamed. My mom's footsteps could be heard coming down the hall, but they were cut short by a crash. It was as near to my bedroom as... the... hall window...
"HELP!" I heard my mom scream. I rushed out of my room and into the hallway. A man all in black, with a ski mask (as any villain) on had my mom, limp, helpless, in his arms.
"MOM!" I yelled. I ran at the man, who was looking at me devilishly, and started to repeatedly kick him in the ass. He let go of Mom, who told me to run, but my legs froze in fear. The man grabbed me and jumped out the window of our two story house. Everything went black.

An hour or two later, I woke up in the back of... a van? A truck with a cover over its tail (whatever it's called)? I looked at my surroundings and whimpered.
"Hello?" I called in barely a whisper.
"Flamma?" someone whispered back.
"Who's there?" I asked, frightened that I had gotten an answer.
"Flamma, it's me... Billie." I tried to see around in the dark, but it was no use. It was too dark to see any detail except the outline of another person sitting beside her.
"Dad?"
"I thought you were mad at me. I thought you hated me."
"But... I'm scared. Dad, are you scared?" There was a long pause.
"Yes, Flamma. I'm very... I'm really afraid, too." I tried to scoot to him, for a hug or something comforting, you know? But when I tried to open my arms, I noticed that the constant pain in my wrists was a pair of handcuffs, not loosened at all. My ankles were in a pair, too, so I was basically a worm. I still leaned on Dad anyways, because he was nice and warm, reminding me of home, a so-called safe place. He lowered his head and rested it on mine and we, at least I, closed our eyes and fell into as deep a sleep we could in the back of some sort of vehicle.

A while later yet, I woke up to the silence. The 'motorized vehicle' had stopped, and the engine had stopped making that purring noise which so kindly rocked me to sleep. I soon figured out it was a van, for the sliding door on the side opened to reveal the man who had taken me. At least, I thought it was a man. I'm pretty sure... yep, it's a man. He took off his mask and grinned evilly. My jaw dropped.
"Mr. Garibaldi?" I asked.
"Yeah, your point?" he answered cruelly.
"Geez, you must be the worst 3rd grade teacher ever!" True, he was Izzy's teacher, the horrid one who gave the poor little kids 8th grade work. "Why would you take us against our will?"
"Do you know how much money will be paid to me for the frontman of Blue Night or something and his daughter?"
"GREEN DAY!" Dad and I shouted at exactly the same time.
"Whatever. But think about it: I'll be rich! At least more wealty than a teacher at some elementary school." He twisted his thin lips into a curly smile and flattened back his already greased hair.
"You're ugly," I said randomly.
"Thank you," he replied sarcastically. He then chucked something hard and sharp at us. I looked down, what with the little trimmings of lights seeping through the gap between Mr. Garibaldi and the opened door. It was a brick, and I began to bleed, as it had punctured the skin on my right arm.
Tears stung my eyes and I felt the blood drip onto my shirt, soaking it all in as a stain, a reminder of what had happened that night. But even I as silent tears escaped, I knew that I would turn up triumphant somehow. Now I had something against Mr. Garibaldi. He would be put away, in jail of course, and we would be free. But not now. We were prisoners.
Mr. Garibaldi shut the door and left us in the van, probably for a few hours. My butt eventually got numb by sitting, so I turned sideways and curled up into a ball to try to sleep. It was too cold, and the van's floor was too hard. I started to shiver. Dad scootched to me, so I laid on his lap.
"How long will it take for us to get loose?" I asked.
"I don't know," Dad replied sadly. "I really don't know."
Suddenly, I jerked upwards, nearly crashing into Dad, and got an idea. I've always been an expert at escaping, and it seems Mr. Garibaldi won't be coming back any time soon... I tucked my feet up and put my hands over them, so they could be in front of me. I found a sharp edge in the jagged floor and crashed a lock on the handcuffs on it. It bended.
I kept banging the lock onto the edge, and the handcuffs finally broke! I did the same with my feet, with the help of my hands, and I helped Dad get out of his traps. We were going to be free, although we'd only been captured today. Dad opened the sliding door.
Once out in the fresh, crisp air, we began to sprint down to the corner. Geez, Mr. Garibaldi is an idiot. He parked his van in a residential area, where we could easily take his address (which we did) and get him arrested. Down at the corner, I knew exactly where we were. We were only (heh, only) about twenty-something blocks from where I lived. I would know, I used to take drum lessons at a house nearby. I pointed to street signs and Dad followed me there. It's kinda weird how fast things can happen, like getting kidnapped, then escaping? This is too easy... he isn't following us or anything... so what now?
We came up to my driveway in only a bit. I started up the walk, as usual and normal, not even realizing that Dad was at the end of it. I remembered, then looked back at him; he had on a face of sadness.
"What?" I asked stupidly.
"Your mom won't want to see me."
"Sure she will, just come in with me. Please?"
"I still thought you hated me..." he said skeptically.
"Dad..." I sighed. "I can't hate you. You're my dad. Besides, how can I hate my idol?"
"I'm still your idol?" he asked, perking up.
"Yeah... you're my main inspiration, Dad!"
"Thanks!" He hugged me for a while.
"I think we should go inside now." I suggested. Dad nodded, so he walked me up the... walk... and into the house.
"Wow..." he commented. "I haven't seen this place in 17 years, or more."
"That's the point." He took a deep breath. "MOM!" I yelled. Footsteps neared; Dad became tense. The footsteps sped up.
"Flannery! I'm so glad you're a--" The footstpes stopped. "B-Billie?" Dad caught his breath.
"Nat..." They stared at each other for the longest time. I couldn't tell if it was a look of burning, raging hate, or something... else. They were on the borderline of ripping open each other's throats or running up and sucking each other's faces off. Probably the first, Dad's married, right? Sooner than the blink of an eye, they were in the middle of a passionate make-out session. My jaw dropped.