Chapter 2
Avidya
Did I do the right thing? Was running going to be worth it? Would Zachariah hate me forever now? Would he try to find me? Would he succeed? What would happen if he did?
So many questions plagued my mind as I lay on the bed and stared out the window. The rain pelted against the panes of the glass, creating little rivers as the drops ran down the window pane. It felt like the sky was just as sad as I was.
I knew in my heart that I did, in fact, do the right thing. It was the only thing I could do to make sure the life inside of me would have a chance at life.
I knew logically that I had a few months before anyone would know that I was pregnant. I could have stayed with my husband longer. Maybe even get him to change his mind, or at least think about what the options were. But I was never good at keeping my worries to myself. Zachariah knew me too well. He’d either find out because my mouth splattered the news, or he’d have noticed my body changing. He was always too in tune with my body and my thoughts.
It didn’t help that I tended to speak my mind without thinking first.
It would only have been a matter of time either way. I wouldn’t be able to hide it from him. He was my world, and I never would keep such a thing from him, if I knew he wouldn’t make me get rid of the issue.
With space, by all ways possible, I hoped—no, I prayed—that he’d see that I was doing the right thing. I wouldn’t change my mind, no matter what he wanted.
I had no desire to be found anytime soon. That was the entire point of leaving with only a few belongings. I even left my wedding ring. It may have broken my heart to do so, but what other option did I have?
Behind me, the hinges of the door groaned in protest as it was pushed open. I remained staring off out the window, wondering about my choices as silent tears fell from my eyes. I felt as though that had been the only thing I had been doing the past week. It’s all Icoulddo as my heart tried to keep on beating.
“You need to eat,” the man grunted awkwardly. I could picture him fidgeting in the doorway.
This man, although only welcoming me into his small house because of who I happened to be, tended to keep to himself. I wasn’t sure if it was because of me keeping myself pretty much locked in this room, or because he didn’t know what to do with a stranger in his home.
Carlos had brought me here with little talk as I pretty much kept to my own thoughts the entire drive. We had only stopped a handful of times in the ten hours since I made that dreaded phone call to him.
He had made sure to keep all calls to his phone short and to the point when he happened to answer. He ignored the calls from his son and wife, knowing what they wanted. Who knows what would have happened if he’d have answered those.
I was positive that Zachariah was livid. At least we had a really good head start on my husband, despite what Zachariah was capable of.
When we arrived at the small tan colored house with a fairly greenish lawn, despite the late fall and crunchy leaves covering the ground, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The lone leafless tree stood in the middle of the front yard.
A run down red pickup sat in the driveway. The paint was beginning to rust in places and looked like it was on its last leg of life.
“You should be safe here,” Carlos stated as he shut the car off, pulling the keys out of the ignition.
“Where are we?” I asked. I hadn’t been exactly paying attention.
“Auburn, California,” he answered. “Only Kent and myself know this man, or about him being here. This man here saved my life a few years back from someone that wanted me dead. He’s very capable of keeping you safe if need be, along with helping you find everything you need.”
“Okay,” I yawned out.
It didn’t take long to exit the car, Carlos carrying my bag as he led the way up to the front door. Less than a minute later, the door was pulled open, revealing the man that lived here.
Before his eyes landed on either one of us, they looked around the road and yard. After a quick second, they landed on Carlos. His dark black hair was pulled up into a top bun, a few pieces left out on purpose. Although his skin was clean shaven, this man was pretty much all muscle. He reminded me of a farmer or woodworker with how he held himself. He was dressed like a farmer with the cotton button-up, checkered long sleeved shirt and jeans he wore.
His dark eyes looked at Carlos through slits, as though he wasn’t sure what our business here was.
“What do you need?” he asked darkly. His voice was rough, matching his exterior.
“I need your help,” Carlos said as though he expected this man to do just that.
“Why would I want to do that?” the man asked, folding his arms over his chest. His entire frame filled the doorway.
“You owe me a favor,” Carlos shrugged out as though it was that simple.
The man grunted, thinking the words over for a moment before finally stepping aside, letting us enter the house.
