Original thought is like original sin: both happened before you were born to people you could not have possibly met. ~ Fran Lebowitz
Wilhelmina Carter runs down the long corridor; the lightbulbs overhead flickers in time to her heartbeats pounding in her ears. The flares offer her momentary cover in the shadows of the hall. Her sock-clad feet make no sound, but her heavy breathing causes her to whip her head around every few seconds in fear of being heard.They are coming. Run, run, run. Laughter, wicked laughter follows the taunt.Just a little farther, a few steps between her and freedom. She knows she has to get away before somebody notices, before they know what she's done. What she had to do, she reminds herself. Billy, as she prefers to be called, has been hospitalized here for a month. These people want nothing more than to drive her insane. They want her to believe she's lost her mind. That she's a danger to herself and to those around her. They're all her enemies, every last one of them, hiding behind their fake smiles and false concern for her wellbeing.
She gasps at the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching behind her. They are still far enough away for her to make it out. She just has to get to the exit door at the far end of the corridor, one she's plotted as her exit route for two weeks. She watched, and she learned the comings and goings of the staff here.
The illuminated red light becomes clearer. A beacon. Billy adjusts the gym bag strap on her shoulder. It's heavy, but not unbearable.
Billy places the bag down, cracks the glass emergency box with a cloth-covered hand, and flinches at the ache that courses through her arm. An alarm sounds, and she pulls the lever down hard. The door clicks open. She picks up her bag, and turning her back to the door, pushes it with all her might, the steel no match for her resolve. It’s cold outside, the middle of winter always is. The coat she snagged from one of the nurse's lockers in the changing room does nothing to warm her. It is dark, the kind of dense blackness of a starless night. The wind howls around her, shouting at her for what she's doing, accusing her of the vilest of things. Her feet ache from the cold of the concrete, but it doesn't compare to the frost gripping her heart. She slips on her boots and bolts toward the front of the building. It's a risk. Even at this time of night, she could be seen, but with one small security post and one guard, she has to believe that the chances of that are slim. The front exit of the hospital is closest to the main road into the city. She could wave down a sympathetic driver.
“Hey, miss,” The sound of a man's voice has her clutching her chest as she barrels forward. "Hey, stop right there," he yells. She looks back, and the light from his flashlight momentarily blinds her.
They’re coming for you. Run, run, run.
She ducks under the boom gate and makes a run for it. There's a field she could cut across. Her height and small size make her nimbler. His bulky form will have a hard time keeping up. The farther away she gets, the quieter it is.
A cry cuts through the silence, startling her. She pulls the zipper of her bag all the way and looks down at the waving arms of the baby as it struggles. She sets the bag down and lifts the tiny thing. Holding it closer, only makes it howl. The baby didn’t make a sound until now, not when she picked it up from the crib in the hospital, and not when Billy bundled it in a thin hospital blanket and set it in the gym bag. Billy was counting on it being a deep sleeper.
“Shh.’ she whispers, her mouth dry, her lips chapped.
The baby's crying will make her easier to locate. Her breathing comes out ragged, but she pushes on, her feet sinking into the earth, the longer blades of grass that touch her legs, chill her limbs.
When she exits the clearing, she rushes out onto the road. She notices the headlights approaching. Her salvation.
The guard runs toward her. "You need to get back." he says, his hand on his baton. Billy does the calculations in her mind and takes a step onto the asphalt. The guard breaks into a run just as she turns and bolts across the road. Billy barely makes it across, just as the guard realizes his mistake.
She smiles in satisfaction as the truck slams into the man. She continues down the road with the screaming baby. Collateral damage. That’s what that guard was. Someone poking his nose where it doesn’t belong.
“Shh, little one. Everything will be okay.” She holds the baby closer.
They will come for you Billy. Run, run, run.
When Billy reaches the convenience store, the sun hasn’t peeped through the horizon as yet. It has to be little before sunrise. It wouldn't do her any good to go in there. It will be odd, a dishevelled young woman and baby at that time of the morning. No. She'll have to wait it out, let the sun come up at least. After making sure the coast is clear, Billy makes her way to the rundown public restroom and locks herself in a stall. Rummaging in her bag, she pulls out the baby formula. The child is quiet, but not feeding it would start another screaming fit. She settles in one of two small stalls. It will work until she can leave. The smell of old urine clings to the walls, the floor is cold as she settles down on it.
"Just a few more hours." Billy whispers to the baby. Big eyes stare back at her.
On her way in, she spotted the beat-up Chevy parked outback. Hopefully, she can convince the owner to give her a ride the rest of the way. She has her story all figured out. Her car broke down on the road, so she started walking to get to a safe place to call for a tow truck.
She sits on the floor cross-legged, her limbs burning from running and walking. The baby in her lap sucks on the bottle hungrily until its eyes flutter closed. It's a hideous thing, all pale and plump. But Billy wanted it from the second she laid eyes on it. It's why she took it from the other woman, a woman who didn't deserve the child at all. There's a family coming tomorrow. They were going to take this baby away from the woman, away from Billy.
She smiles down at the sleeping infant, a wisp of dark curls on its head. She’ll give it a name, one it deserves. Billy feels light-headed. Needing to sleep, she closes her eyes and lets the darkness take her, but not before chills break out over her skin and the mocking voices in her head scream at her.
They’re coming for you. Run. Run. Run.
Chapter 3
Sinclair
Six months ago
It’s the simple things in life that people take for granted. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee that provides the comforting awareness that you’re minutes away from your first cup of the day. Crisp white sheets. The prickly feeling of a beard caressing your cheek, sending welcome tingles across your skin.
Snuggling closer against the familiar scent of your pillow, and the person you love, for five more minutes. The earthy smell of freshly cut grass or mouth-watering baked bread being removed from the oven.
These are the littlebigthings that make life worthwhile. The things I cherish most. I've always been appreciative of my life, understanding the fragility of it. I see the flash of my phone light, and I tense. It's six a.m. I tilt the screen toward me, and my brows knit together. Number unknown. I don't bother answering. I turn on my side, away from it.
Cohen sleeps soundly beside me. I watch the gentle rise and fall of his back and admire the shock of salt-and-pepper hair, which falls over his eyes. I trace my hands over the muscles there. Co hasn't lost his youthful good looks, it clings to him like resin to a tree trunk. I still swoon like a schoolgirl when I look into his brilliant blue orbs all these years later.
On cue, his lids open lazily, and he flashes me one of hisheart be stillgrins. I return it. Reaching toward him, I brush my hand over his face, one stroke from his forehead down to his dimpled chin. I like to think these moments are special to him too. Moments that make life worthwhile.
