Page 17 of River Wild

A home.

I’m finally home.

“So, what do you think?” Marla asks me, stopping in the living room, back to where we started.

“I’ll take it,” I tell her without hesitation.

She smiles widely, showing me a full set of cosmetically enhanced pearly-white teeth. “Wonderful.” She claps her hands together. “So, I will need at least six months rent up-front, with you not having any references.”

“That’s no problem,” I tell her.

“Great. Well, I’ll just go get the paperwork out of my car.”

While she’s gone, I count out the money that I’ll need to cover six months rent.

Half an hour later, I’ve signed the lease, and I’m watching Marla as she pulls away in her shiny Audi.

I step back inside the house and close the door. Locking it behind me.

Then, I rest my forehead against the door and just breathe for a minute.

You did it, Annie. You got away from him. Your life starts now.

I take one last deep breath in before moving away from the door. I go and retrieve my duffel bag and then take it into the master bedroom with me.

I take out my clothes and toiletries and dump them on the bed. I take a few hundred dollars out and leave the rest of the money in there along with the ID card and birth certificate. I carry the bag over to the small walk-in-closet. I open up the largest drawer in the closet and stuff the duffel in there. I’ll figure out a safer place to keep the money once I’ve familiarized myself with the house.

I peel my days-old clothes off, turn the shower on hot, and climb in, enjoying the feel of the almost burn on my skin. Washing away my past. The water runs pale red—the remnants of the dye in my hair that I didn’t properly wash out in my rest-stop dye job.

I’m free.

Tears join the water, and I watch my past go down the drain.

I turn the shower off and grab the ratty old towel hanging on the rail.

I’ll buy some new ones when I go to the store.

I dry off and brush my hair, leaving it down. I dress in jeans and a T-shirt. I’m going to need some clothes. Preferably shorts, tanks, and cotton dresses.

I go into the kitchen and make myself herbal tea, using a tea sachet that I got at one of the rest stops. I fill the kettle with water and turn it on, and then I locate the cups while it boils.

I make my tea, and carrying it out back, I stand on the porch. I rest my elbows on the railing.

I could do with a chair out here, so I could sit down and enjoy the solitude. But, for now, I’ll stand and enjoy what I have.

It’s so quiet. I’ve never known peace like it.

It’s a soothing kind of silence. The kind that wraps you up and cocoons you.

It’s perfect.

It’s everything.

I take a sip of my tea, and then I hear Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” start to play from the neighboring house on my right.

I love this song. I don’t even care that it’s infiltrated my peace. If anything, it makes me smile.

My new neighbor has great taste in music.