Page 12 of When The Mountains Held Us

I exhale sharply, willing my muscles to relax as I stare up at the ceiling and try to catalog exactly what I need to deal with first. There’s too much to unpack in this moment, no pun intended, but I have to start somewhere. I walk myself through the mental to-do list, checking off little boxes for what can wait and what has to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

Obviously, the first order of business is getting in contact with the manager of the apartment complex and praying like hell that the apartment is still available. If I’m going to make this town my home for the time being, living out of this singular motel room wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it is far from ideal. There’s something about this place that makes me feel rather transient, like I haven’t truly stopped running and have no place to call my own. My living situation takes priority over anything else right now.

Reaching over, I grab my phone off the nightstand and squint as the bright glow illuminates the screen. I have over twenty missed calls, text messages, and voicemails combined. Scrolling through the missed calls list, I find the number I saved under “Mountainside Apartments.” I click on the voicemail and put the phone on speaker. A cheerful female voice with a slight twang greets me.

“Hi Oakley, this is Tonia Evans, building manager for Mountainside Apartments. We had an appointment earlier this afternoon to meet regarding touring our available apartment. I know you’re new to town and hope you didn’t get too lost in these mountains of ours, but give me a call back when you can, and we can try to work something out. I do have availability tomorrow morning, so we can chat then. Talk to you soon, love. Bye!”

Hope flares in my chest that maybe this isn’t a complete bust after all. I clutch my phone to my chest and smile, feeling like something is finally going my way despite the day’s setbacks. I don’t realize I’ve pressed play on the next voicemail until the angry voice blares through the darkness around me, causing my heart to jump into my throat.

“You stupid fucking bitch! After everything I’ve given you?! Just wait till I get my fucking hands on⁠—”

Eyes stinging, I fumble with the phone until the recording cuts off and near silence blankets me once more, punctuated only by the rapid thrashing of my heart against my ribcage. Nausea roils in my stomach, and I throw myself out of bed and lunge for the bathroom.

My knees slam painfully against the tile, but the dull ache is quickly forgotten as I lean over the toilet and empty the minimal contents of my stomach into the bowl. When my heaving finally subsides, I sit back, leaning against the tub and stretching my bare legs out in front of me. The tile is cool against my clammy skin, and I focus on taking deep and even breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.

You are okay. You are safe. He can’t find you here.

The words I’ve been repeating like my own personal mantra ever since pulling away from that apartment echo in my mind as I recite them in a hushed whisper until my heart calms and my stomach settles.

You are okay. You are safe. He can’t find you here.

Each hurried phrase rolls off my tongue until I’m speaking them aloud in a rush of words into the dark, declaring them to the emptiness of the motel room.

When it no longer feels like the weight of those vicious words are threatening to crush me, I stand on trembling legs and rinse out my mouth with the small bottle of mouthwash before returning to the lumpy mattress. I don’t even care that the bed is uncomfortable or that there’s a spring digging directly into my side as I curl into a ball beneath the blanket.

The only thing that matters is that I am okay.

I am safe.

He can’t find me here.

I’ll meet with Tonia tomorrow morning, and by the afternoon, I’ll be settled into my new apartment. I’m going to make a life for myself here one way or another. It doesn’t matter that it feels like I’m starting over for the hundredth time in my life. I owe it to myself to try again. To not let what happened break me.

After months of weathering the storm of my ex’s cycle of mental, emotional, and physical warfare, it happened. I finally cracked. I couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t face my friends and family knowing I was allowing him to do to me over and over again what they’d never stand for themselves. If the situation was reversed, I would be the first one telling them to get the fuck out.

I’m not sure when I accepted what was happening or why I accepted it in the first place. Like anything, it started as such insignificant blips in time. A comment here or there, so subtle and dripping in sugary sweetness, that I hadn’t even realized was poison until it had already slipped down my throat.

Months came and went, and with them so did the outgoing and carefree woman I used to be. Gone was the girl who could make a friend out of a stranger anywhere she went, instead replaced by someone so far withdrawn into herself that she viewed the world through a constant lens of wariness and fear.

I don’t even fucking recognize myself anymore. It’s nauseating to see the person I allowed him to make me into over the course of those few months. A single tear slides down my cheek and soaks into the pillow.

I may not know who I am anymore, but I know who I want to be. I was her once upon a time and I plan to fight like hell to get back to her. Starting tomorrow.

Maybe I’ll paint the entire apartment bright yellows and pinks to drown out the incessant gray clouds that seemed to follow me around everywhere I go.

Weighed down by exhaustion, it doesn’t take long before I’m asleep with visions of sunny days dancing through my mind.

Seven

Oakley

The loud banging on the door of the motel room jars me from sleep. My eyes spring open, and my heart rate accelerates until my brain catches up and I realize where I am.

You are okay. You are safe. He can’t find you here.

“Oakley? You awake in there?”

I throw a glance at the ancient alarm clock on the nightstand, and realize it’s nearly nine in the morning. A spew of curse words fall from my mouth. I was so exhausted last night that I forgot to set an alarm. I leap from the bed, nearly tripping over the blanket wrapped around my legs.