“Elliot can put in a good word for me.”
“Elliot? Why would he do that? He hates Leon.”
“He only hated him because he was jealous. He no longer has a reason to be resentful of Leon.”
She pushes off the wall. “Why would Elliot do you any favors?”
“He’ll be happy to finally get rid of me.” I straighten from shoving bras into the bag, voicing my biggest concern about leaving my mom here on her own. “But you have to be careful. You know—”
“He’s watching me.” She looks away. “How can I forget?”
Walking over, I hug her. “Promise me you won’t take risks.”
“I won’t.” She sniffs, pulling away. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”
“I’ll be fine.” I smile. “Can you give me a minute? I want to say goodbye to my old room.”
“Sure.” She wipes tears from under her eyes with her fingertips. “I’ll wait downstairs.”
She goes to the door and pauses on the threshold. “Violet.”
The quiet way in which she says my name is almost my undoing.
“What?” I ask, miraculously keeping my voice from breaking.
“Are you sure about this? Because if you have the minutest doubt—”
“I’m certain. This is the best option for me, Mom.” The only option.
“If it doesn’t work out, you can always come back.”
There’s no coming back from this, but I let her believe the lie. “Sure.”
“Okay,” she says in a small voice, squaring her back. “Your room will always be here for you.”
“That’s good to know.”
With a last look over her shoulder, she leaves the room. When she closes the door behind her, I let my composure slip. My shoulders slump under the enormity of what’s about to happen. My breaths come too fast and too hard. I want to climb through the window and fly away like in a scene from one of my favorite comic books, but I’m shackled to reality, chained to a future with a man who hates me.
There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. Dragging it out only makes the torture worse.
Kneeling on the floor in front of my closet, I move the loose panel aside and feel for the key that’s stuck to the wall with reusable adhesive. Then I take the metal box from under the floorboard. Lucky sold the second-hand fireproof box to me for next to nothing. I unlock the box and steal a glance at the door before removing the stash of money I’ve saved and the folder with my unsold sketches. I look around for something to hide the money in and settle on the bag with the pull-string that holds my socks. I stuff the rolls of bills inside before packing it with the folder into my bag. The metal box is too big to fit into the bag. I put it back under the floorboard and return the key to its hiding place. It’s the best I can do for now.
After zipping up the bag, I go to the window. The old oak stands sturdily in the morning sun, a beautiful but unobtainable dream. I never did manage to climb those branches.
Letting the curtains fall closed, I pick up the bag.
My old life has ended.
My new hell begins.