My hands shake as I pack, my bandages pulling tight against my still-raw wounds. Every few minutes, I glance out the window, half-expecting to see Joel's car returning. The fear still sits in the pit of my stomach, but now it propels me forward instead of paralyzing me.
I make sure the address is in my pocket then zip the suitcase closed. My eyes catch on my reflection in the dressermirror. I look the same as I did a few days ago—messy, long brown hair and a tired expression—but there’s a glimmer of hope in my tired eyes. That’s new.
As I do one last survey of the house to make sure I’m not missing anything critical, I can focus on nothing but the thrill and exhilaration of knowing that he wasn’t all in my head. He was—is—real. Maybe he was biding his time and planning on rescuing me the entire time he’s been watching me.
Satisfied that I’ve packed everything I need to, I secure the straps of my backpack on my shoulders and drag my suitcase to the front door. I pause with one hand on the knob. Behind me lies everything I've known—the prison of my marriage, the certainty of continued pain. Ahead lies nothing but hope in the form of an address scrawled on paper and the face of a man I've only truly seen once.
This could be further proof of my insanity. It might be my mind fracturing under the weight of too much suffering. The address might lead nowhere. The man might not exist.
But it's the only option I have left aside from the one I just failed at executing.
I step outside into the August heat that feels like being dropped in a steamer, pulling the suitcase behind me.
If this is my last desperate gamble for freedom, so be it. If I'm chasing ghosts or hallucinations, at least I'm chasing something of my own choosing.
Find me, he had said in my dreams.
If only I could tell him,I’m coming.
CHAPTER 7
With no phone for navigation and no car to make a getaway, I walk the few blocks to the library with my suitcase in tow. People cast me sidelong glances, but I can’t bring myself to care. The freedom of movement feels surreal after so many hours confined to sterile hospital walls.
My steps quicken despite the weight of the suitcase as it rumbles behind me, its wheels catching on sidewalk cracks. Each block I put between myself and the house eases the pressure on my chest, though my gaze stays trained on the roads as I keep a look out for cop cars.
The public library comes into view, a solid brick building with wide windows. As soon as I step inside, I breathe a sigh of relief. The library has always been a sanctuary, and I hadn’t realized how much I needed it until this moment.
I find an empty computer station in the far corner, positioning myself with my back to the wall, eyes constantly darting to the entrance. Joel wouldn't think to look for me here, and he won’t know I’m missing for hours, but the fear has become an instinct. The irrational part of my mind neverstops churning with unlikely scenarios—what if he saw me on the street and saw me walk in here? What if he thwarts my plans of escape?
No. I can’t even allow myself to consider the possibility. Iwillmake my getaway.
My bandaged wrists make typing awkward, the gauze catching on the keyboard's edge. The librarian at the desk keeps casting glances my way, and I attempt to ignore the concern in her expression.
It would’ve been ideal for me to run away without encountering others, considering the fact that my bandaged arms make me stand out from the crowd everywhere I go, but it’s not like I have many options. I have no phone, no car, and very little money. Even if I did have my car, I wouldn’t be surprised if Joel had installed a secret tracker inside it.
I lay the small slip of paper out on the shiny wooden desk and copy the address into Google maps. It pinpoints a spot deep in the Appalachian mountains, a tiny dot on the map surrounded by nothing but green forest and winding roads. When I try to look at the house from the street view, all I can make out is a twisty gravel driveway past a metal gate. Otherwise, it’s forest in every direction.
Well, that makes this more difficult.
I open another tab and check the train routes, but there isn’t one that goes in the direction I need. Next, I check bus routes, and I manage to find one that gets me within twenty miles of where I need to go.
I’m not sure how I’ll get to the address once I’m at the bus stop, but I’m sure I could convince someone to call me an Uber or something. Even though I don’t have a phone, I do have cash.
After paying the librarian the ten cents for printing, I pull up the driving directions from the destination bus stop to theaddress I’ve been obsessing over and say a silent prayer to whatever deity that will listen that this works out.
I print the directions, my fingers trembling as I pick up the still-warm paper and thank the librarian for her help before scrawling down the bus departure and arrival time. I have quite a few hours to go before the bus leaves.
The small map at the top of the paper shows a ribbon of highway cutting through the mountains, then smaller roads branching off like veins, growing thinner and more twisted as they climb. Beneath that are the directions to the house. At least, I’m assuming it’s a house.
Seriously, what am I doing? Following an address left by someone who’s been stalking me is undoubtedly the dumbest thing I could ever do. My rational mind screams how dangerous this is, but something pulls me forward, something beyond logic or reason. Maybe it’s curiosity, or maybe it’s desperation to live any life but the one I have now.
I’m fully aware that I’m not only being stupid but reckless, but it’s much easier to make rash decisions when I don’t value my life to begin with.
I decide to browse the bookshelves for a while, preferring to stay in the air conditioning as long as possible before making my way the mile and a half across town to the bus station. I’m not looking for anything in particular, so I pull books out at random, reading the back and sometimes flipping through the pages before putting them back on the shelf.
It’s an hour later when I find one that draws me in from the first page, and I glance at the clock before deciding I probably have time to finish half the book before I really need to leave.
So, that’s what I do. I settle into a chair in the corner of the room with the book in my lap and my bags at my side,and I read. I get lost in the story of magic and destiny and fated love, until I glance up and see that two hours have passed. Still, I don’t need to be on the bus for another couple hours, so I continue reading until I’m just past the halfway point.
