A fantasy of running away overtakes my mind, so clear I can almost feel the air stinging my face as I run through the field beyond the house. Excitement flickers through me, but it’s quickly killed by a heavy wave of resignation.
When I moved here, I said I wouldn’t run anymore. I know I certainly didn’t count on getting kidnapped and forcibly married… but running just feels wrong.
I start throwing clothes into the suitcase, trying to push my emotions away. The harder I try to fight them, the worse they get, and when tears begin to trickle down my cheeks, I slump down and cover my face, letting the tears come.
I can never come back here. Everything I’ve built, I have to leave behind.
This really hurts.
“Hyacinth?” Shane asks. “Are you okay?”
No.
“I’m fine,” I reply, trying not to snap.
“I can hear you crying. What’s wrong?”
His tone is just a little sharp, as if he’s frustrated with me. I keep my back turned to him, my resentment of him and the entire situation growing.
“Packing up my stuff is a bit hard. That’s all.”
“Why?”
I take a deep breath and roll my eyes up to the ceiling, glad that he’s behind me and can’t see my face.
Why is he torturing me like this? Surely he understands how hard this is for me.
“Just go away and let me pack,” I bark.
“Can I help?”
“No. Just go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I yell, finally turning around. “Why are you getting on my case like this? Getting kidnapped and dragged away from my life isn’t my idea of a good time, you know?”
Shane’s big blue eyes widen in surprise. “Okay,” he mutters. “I was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need it,” I snap, turning away again.
His footsteps slowly disappear down the hall, and I wipe tears off my cheeks as I finish packing my bag.
Was he really trying to help? Sure as hell didn’t feel like it.
Once my suitcase is full, I zip it up, looking around my room and letting my gaze linger. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had a space that was completely my own, and now I have to leave it behind.
I have to live in someone else’s house now, with their rules.
A dark wave of despair rises in me, and I struggle against it. Horrible memories ride on it, like rumbling clouds about to unleash a brutally violent storm.
No, no. I won’t think about that.
I get up quickly and drag my suitcase into the hall. Shane looks up, puts his phone in his pocket, and then comes over to me.
“I’ll take that for you,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say automatically. I follow him out the front door, locking it behind me.
