Page 40 of When The Mountains Held Us

I gesture to the slightly ajar door. His focus shifts from my trembling form to the sliver of light pouring out through the crack in the door, and everything changes. Without a word, he pushes me behind him, and I clutch his flannel with both hands. He turns his head until he’s glancing at me over his shoulder, and the reflection of the light from the room on his face highlights the worry lines creasing his forehead.

“Stay here.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat but give a slight nod at his command. His eyes soften a fraction as warm hands cover my own and gently pry my fingers open, releasing the bunched material from my death grip. Stepping back, I stare with wide eyes as Levi steps over the threshold and disappears behind the weatherworn door.

What if he found me?

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I shove it away and slam my mental doors on it. But I’m too late. I was conditioned over the last year, and the fear associated with his memory threatens to cripple me right there on the sidewalk. He’s like a ghost. I can’t see him, but his menacing presence is always there, lurking in the shadows and haunting me in the daylight.

You can run, but you can’t hide.

It’s only one of many vaguely threatening messages I’ve received from Travis since leaving. I saw it briefly on the hike back from the waterfall, but instead of dwelling on it, I shoved my phone into my bag and resumed my conversation with Jessie. Now those words feel like the shock of the ice-cold lake as they pinball through my head, drenching me in fear.

My heart thumps in time with the sound of Levi’s steady footsteps as he moves through the room, my ears straining to pick up on anything to indicate someone hiding in the room, but I can’t hear anything over the thundering of my pulse. The seconds tick by as the adrenaline ebbs and flows, my feet twitching with the effort it takes to stay where I am and not run screaming for the hills.

Fuck, when did I become such a coward? Humiliation joins the onslaught of too many emotions, and my cheeks heat when I think about how pitiful I must look right now. Dad would be ashamed of me if he could see me like this. I’ve always been his headstrong girl, ready and willing to speak my mind whether someone asked for it or not. I think it’s one of the things that made him most proud of me growing up. I wasn’t afraid to tell it like it is, and I never apologized for who I was and what I believed.

It’s right now, as I stand with shaking limbs outside of a seedy motel in a town I found by pointing blindly at a map, that I realize I’ve lost that part of myself.

No, fuck that. I didn’t lose that part of me. Travis ripped it from me with jagged teeth.

I’d reached into the darkness, trying like hell to fight for who and what I was, as maniacal laughter filled my ears and drowned me in the suffering of the wounds he inflicted. Little by little, he stole pieces of my mind, my heart, my body, and twisted them into something I no longer recognized before shoving them back into my chest with a wicked smile. He reveled in my pain and laughed at the wounds he caused, rejoicing in his own sick and twisted masterpiece.

I’d never felt so dirty. I’d never felt so utterly empty, and it isn’t until right now, on this stupid cracked sidewalk, that I recognize the extent of all he took from me.

And it makes me furious.

“All clear.” Levi emerges from the room, the light from the doorway shining around him.

I breathe a sigh of relief at his words, but the metaphorical fist around my throat hasn’t loosened its grip yet. He steps aside for me, and I enter the room, scanning it quickly. At first glance, nothing seems out of place.

The click of the door and jingle of the deadbolt chain behind me further soothes my racing heart, and I drop my bag at the foot of the bed, looking around again with my hands on my hips.

The moment of relief is short-lived when my eyes catch on the cabinet that holds the ancient television. My eyes trail down to the small safe that sits on the shelf below, its door hanging wide open, and dread pools in my stomach.

The safe is empty.

I drop down onto the edge of the bed, staring at the empty safe in front of me in disbelief. All I want to do is crawl under the covers and hide. How is it that only hours earlier, I was so free, and now it’s like I’m back at square one?

Levi follows my gaze to the empty safe, and I know he’s not noticing it for the first time. He inhales deeply. I lie back on the ratty comforter and let my eyes close. A moment later, the bed dips beside me.

“That cash was everything I have. Everything I’ve made at the bar since starting there.” My broken whisper is deafening in the silence. “I was going to go to the bank in town tomorrow and open a new account.” Travis is on the old one, and I’m sure he’s already drained it.

Silence follows as I try to rein in my jumbled thoughts. Coming here was supposed to be a new start, not a continuation of the sad life I was running from.

“It might be a small town, but that doesn’t mean we have any shortage of drunks and druggies. I’ll bet it was one of them who saw the door open and decided to help themselves.”

I start to agree, but stop myself. No matter who broke in, it doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and the money's gone. How they managed to get into the safe, when I am certain it was locked up tight before I left, is another mystery.

“I left because I’d finally had enough. You know, my friend used to tell me, you’re not done until you’re done. And she was fucking right. For months, I made excuses, thinking that there was something more that I could do to make him change, but it wasn’t a me problem. It wasn’t my fault. I know that. But I can know that and still not know how to pick up the pieces of myself after all of it.”

Levi reaches out and wraps his pinky around my finger in silent reassurance.

“Maybe I should have never left.”

My admittance surprises me. I don’t drag out the details, don’t rehash the litany of still bleeding scars for Levi. The things he shared today confirm my initial instinct that I can trust him.

“That’s bullshit.” His indignation teases a faint smile to my lips.