I can’t say I’m shocked that I chose the most fucked up path I could.
All that visceral pain morphs back into rage and betrayal, and that’s what fuels me for the rest of the drive.
The sun is just beginning to crest over the horizon when I take the exit onto the interstate. The vibrant sunrises of summer are long gone, replaced by pewter grayskies and watery light. It’s an apt reflection of the familiar hollowness creeping back into my body with every passing hour.
Less than sixty minutes until I’m home—well, until I’m at the house I used to call home, before I knew what a home really felt like.
Joel will be leaving for work right around now and won’t be back until five at the earliest. That gives me plenty of time to take whatever I need and leave.
Leave and go where? I’m not sure. I’ll probably stay close to the area for a day or two, just to make sure that the angels were telling the truth about my ability to escape without physical consequences, but after that, I’ll be free.
After all, freedom is all I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. So why does the idea seem so daunting, so overwhelming, so… lonely?
It doesn’t have to be that way, the voice in my head whispers.Give him another chance.
I can’t, though. I gave Joel another chance after the first time he lied to me, and look where that got me. It was a slippery slope that led to him taking total control over me. I can’t go through something like that again. I won’t.
Before I know it, I’m pulling off the highway and navigating the familiar streets of the city. The familiarity doesn’t send a pang of sadness through me like I thought it would. I’ve lived eight years of my life in this part of town, but the only memories it holds are ones I’d rather forget.
My chest tightens as I pull onto my street and park in a space a block down from the house. I sit there in the silence, both anxious about going inside and ready to get it over with.
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself that it won’t last long, that I’ll be in and out as quickly as possible, and I exit the carto make my way down the street and to the front door before unlocking it with the key I kept just in case.
It’s surreal being back here again. It’s only been a few months, but some part of me thought it would look different, feel different.
It doesn’t, aside from the slight mess caused by a man who’s used to a woman cleaning up after him. A pile of dishes in the kitchen sink, shoes tossed haphazardly next to the doorway, a jacket thrown over the back of the couch. At least he’s managed to keep the place looking decent, though.
I make my way to the master bedroom and find an empty duffel bag beneath the bed, which I toss on top of the rumpled blankets atop the bed. From there, I gather up clothing, shoes, and various toiletries that I hadn’t bothered to bring with me the first time I left. I also empty my jewelry box of anything valuable in hopes of pawning it for more money.
Speaking of money… I rustle through Joel’s nightstand, searching for cash but only finding the usual items—his pistol, which I unfortunately can’t pawn since it’s registered to his name—a self help book about personal discipline, and a few condoms. Those are new, but I can’t bring myself to care about who my husband might be fucking.
I manage to find a little bit of cash—about thirty dollars—in his dirty pants pockets, which I toss into the duffel bag. He won’t even notice it’s gone.
After packing the bag with anything else I can think of, I stop and just stand in the room. I don’t know what I expected to feel. Vindicated? Empowered? All I feel is a dull, grinding ache in my chest, like something's eroding me from the inside.
Where will I go?
The west coast comes to mind again. Somewhere likeSeattle or Los Angeles. Cities so dense with people that a single soul could disappear completely. I could find some cheap apartment, maybe waitress somewhere and eventually go to college. Change my name, start anew.
But even that feels enormous right now.
I shake the doubt away.One step at a time, I remind myself, just like I did that first night I ran away from here. Just like I did when I told Ambrose goodbye without him even knowing it, even as my heart screamed at me not to.
I hate that part of me still wants to believe him. The part that wants to collapse in his arms so he can tell me it’ll all be okay.
But no, I can’t trust anyone who twists the truth to manipulate me, no matter what his intentions were.
I zip the bag and toss it by the front door. I’m grabbing a spare blanket from the closet when I hear it.
The unmistakable sound of the front door opening.
Then closing.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I stop breathing. My ears ring.
Heavy, measured footsteps sound in the hallway, and I’d know the ominous sound of those boots anywhere.
Joel.
