You’ve got this, Tessa. So instead of focusing on the pain in my heart over all I might have lost, I focus only on getting free.
Pain shoots up through my right arm when I accidentally tweak it, and I hiss through clenched teeth.
Lord, please. Please help me.
I’ve been praying all night, leaning on Him, trying to drown out the voices telling me that I’m all alone. That, if God loved me, then I wouldn’t be here right now. But I know that’s not true. I know now that God may not deliver us from our pain, but He will always bring us through it.
I don’t just know it, either.
I believe it.
Because otherwise, I’d have been dead a long time ago.
The sand dollar pops into my mind. Those five beautiful doves born of death and brokenness. I’m not alone. Closing my eyes, I pause, trying to escape for a moment and just listen to the silence of the room.
I sit in this space, and as the anxiety closes in, I send up a thank you.
Thank You, Lord, for bringing me back to Zane.
Thank You for giving us the time we had.
If this is the end, I still thank You. Because You’ve been with me my entire life, even on the days where the darkness was so thick I couldn’t see You. I pray these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Opening my eyes, I’m filled with an unexplainable peace.
No matter how this plays out, I’ll keep my eyes focused on Him.
I won’t turn away again.
“You say that you feel like you can’t stay on your feet? Then remain on your knees, Tessa, and pray.” Pastor Reeves’ words have come to me more than once over the past few hours. They’ve been my comfort while I’ve been trying to escape, my hope when everything feels so completely hopeless.
Faith is strength.
And for the first time in my life, I’m jumping into it without hesitation. Without doubt. I know my God is there. I know He loves me.
My wrist slips free with such force that I nearly topple out of my chair. I stare at my bloodied hand, momentarily shocked. Thank You, God!
Without wasting another moment, I tug my other hand free, then get to my feet. Heart racing, I peek out through the small sliver window in the office door. When I don’t see anyone, I check the handle. Unlocked. Yes!
Adrenaline surging through my veins, I step out into the hall. My bare feet move soundlessly on the thin carpet, and I continue forward as quickly as I can while also paying attention to any noises.
A room to my right is partially open, so I peer inside. It’s empty.
I continue down the hall until I reach a stairwell. After opening the doorway slowly, I descend the stairs until I reach the first floor. Pulling the door open, I peer outside into the empty office space. There are cubicles and a secretary’s desk, but it’s otherwise empty.
However, I know exactly where I am.
Back at the beginning.
Southeast Environmental Commission.
I rush out of the staircase and sprint toward the nearest cubicle. Every one of them had an office line and a computer. If I can reach someone, then I can hide until I get help.
Hope surges through my system when I see the phone sitting there. I kneel down, trying to keep my head below the top of the cubicle divider, then hover a hand over the top of the phone. Lord, please let there be a dial tone.
After taking a deep breath, I lift the phone and nearly weep with relief when I hear the familiar tone.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
