“You can talk to me, you know.” Her voice interrupts the silence. “I’m not just your bodyguard. I’m licensed in trauma therapy and ready to listen whenever you want to talk.” Glancing at her from my seat on the passenger side of the blacked-out Escalade, I can only nod.
Andrea and Janet told me all this already. Lauren is everything I need her to be. The problem is I don’t know what I need. I’m depressed in ways I’ve never experienced before, and I’m unsure how to put my feelings into words.
“Andrea was able to get those items you asked for.”
“And they’re okay? He didn’t ruin them?” I’d have been crushed if he had.
“Nope. Everything was intact. There were a couple of other things they were able to grab, as well. We know you said there was nothing else of value or sentiment there, but she took them anyways.” Her smile is comforting as I close my eyes and picture the two items I requested they retrieve.
My mother made me a patchwork quilt out of her baby clothes from when she was pregnant with me, and I remember loving that blanket so much as a young girl. This time, when I got past the first trimester, she sent it to me after fixing a few holes with some ofmybaby clothes. I couldn’t wait to pass it on to my own child.
Around that same time, I’d had a snow-white bunny made with a half-pink and half-blue bow around its neck. The pink was for the daughter Mason killed, the blue for the son he murdered, and the white bunny for the new life I’d hoped to keep safe. Now that bunny is all I have left from my three babies. I couldn’t bear to lose it, either.
“When can I have them?”
Sympathy shines bright in her eyes. “Once we’re settled for more than a night.”
And who knows how long that will be.
At least they’re safe from his diabolical hands.
Two
LAKEN
Is this really freedom?
Two months later.
“Yes, Mama, I’m fine. Lauren is great.” It’s so good to hear her voice again. The conversation in the hospital was not long enough, and now that we’re settled in our second location—Chicago—for at least another month, longer if possible, I can fully explain everything to my parents. They were devastated when I told them how my miscarriages happened and why. I never wanted them to know. I knew my mom would blame herself because she pushed me towards Mason, thinking he was a good man.
We were all so very wrong.
“Are you sure, baby? I miss you so much. I wish you could be here with us.” I hear the way she tries to hide her sniffling.
“Positive.” Mason calls them daily. Sometimes he’s the charmer he used to be, but more often than not, his façade slips and out pops the ugly man he truly is. Thanks to the sheriff in Hamilton, he hasn’t been able to get near them.
I still haven’t opened up to Lauren, and I know it’s a mistake, especially with the way she always knows when I’m too in my own head, but even though we’ve become friends, I’m not ready to deal with the onslaught of emotions that I struggle to deal with.
“Well, when can we come see you? Daddy misses you so much. So do I.” I can hear him in the background grumbling the same sentiment.
“Not until everything is settled. Andrea said at least a year. I can’t stay in any single place too long, and I can’t reveal where I am. Please understand, Mama.”I can’t bear another guilt trip.Lauren rolls her finger, indicating I must wrap up the call. I’ve probably been on too long already. “I have to go now, Mama. I love you and Daddy so much. We’ll talk soon.” She barely gets her goodbye out before I’m clicking end and handing the phone to Lauren, who takes out the SIM card and snaps it, shutting the device off.
I hate how used to this kind of life I’m getting. All the cloak and dagger, the suspense. I grew up reading Stephen King and James Patterson books with my daddy. I know all about the mysteries in life, real or fictional; I just never imagined living it. I can’t say I like it too much.
Cooped up for most of the day, I’m not allowed to work. Not while we’re still on the move to our final destination and not while my name and picture are floating around major news outlets. Until I become less of a media sensation and not as recognizable, I stay inside during the day. Lauren does any shopping we need, and when I do get some fresh air, we drive outside the city to remote areas, and I need to wear hats or hoods. We even died my hair from my natural dirty blonde to dark brown and cut several inches off.
I don’t feel like myself any longer, and the more I gaze at my reflection in a mirror, the more I want to smash the glass. “When do we leave again?” We now get twenty-four hours’ notice before we “bug out” as Lauren calls it, instead of the thirty minutes before. And we never know where we’re going until we’re at least halfway there.
“From what Andrea said, it might be next week, but she’s not sure.” Chewing the inside of my cheek until it hurts reminds me not to lose my cool and remember that they’re helping me in a way that has been successful in the past.
“I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.” On my way, I stop in the kitchen for a can of sugar-free Sprite and a slice of banana bread and head down the hall to my room. Closing the door quietly, I give into the breakdown I feel coming on.
Crying myself to sleep has become a regular part of my bedtime routine. I fall asleep choking on my tears and wake up feeling even more exhausted than the night before because even though I’m sleeping, I’m always stuck in a nightmare. I relive the moments of that last argument over and over, and I can’t seem to let it go. Trying to figure out what I did wrong and how I could have changed it.
Living in the “what if” state of mind is making me crazy.
Three months later.