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“Alright, on your feet.”
Clover listlessly follows the man’s instructions. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She just wanted to go home.
Their footsteps tap on the tile floor.
Henry was right. She was an autist. She was a dumbass. She always messed up. She never did anything right. Now she was going to have to go to jail or something. And Henry would just look at her quietly, with those disappointed eyes. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Clover can still taste blood in her mouth.
They push through a set of doors.
The sun, high in the sky, causes the girl to blink as they begin walking through the mall parking lot. That’s when she notices that something feels very wrong.
Clover had always been an observant girl. Most wouldn’t expect it of her, but she was good at picking out details no one else seemed to see. Especially when things were getting dangerous. These guys… they’re not police officers. They’re wearing non-descript suits, with no badges in sight. Her phone is still in the mall, by the potted plant. The three of them were headed to an unmarked black vehicle, on the other side of the parking lot.
…If she got into that car without her phone, she wouldn’t be able to contact anyone. No one knows where she is. Henry doesn’t know where she is. He wouldn’t know where to look. He would just get home and find an empty room.
The men continue pulling her closer and closer to that vehicle. Clover swallows.
>…?
