Chapter 38
I half-run, half-stumble my way out of the beautiful, rustic lake house, whose walls suddenly feel less safe and protective, and more claustrophobic and imposing. It is funny how quickly things can change so drastically.
It could be seconds, minutes, or hours later when I find myself sitting on the edge of the lake, not a far distance from the house, but kept out of sight by a tangle of lush greenery that has no right to look as pretty and cheerful as it does with the sunlight reflecting off of it. Despite the calm day, the surface of the lake is rough and choppy, like a physical manifestation of the turmoil inside of me. I barely remember my frantic run down the hill, but I realize that I must have tripped and fallen at some point, as my knee is aching and there is a new rip in my jeans.
*Great. Now I’m a physical mess* and *emotional one.*
I have no idea how I found myself in this mess of a situation. I could have landed a job anywhere. I could be spending my days off sitting on a sunny beach in Florida with my toes in the sand, or skiing down a fresh, powdery slope in the mountains somewhere. Instead I ended up here. Here, where I find myself inexplicably drawn to a man that thinks he has goddamned super powers and genuinely seems to believe that it is his destiny to protect us mere mortals from things that only exist in shitty movies.
I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be born, then promptly abandoned and left to fend for myself from day one. I didn’t ask to bounce from shitty foster home to shitty foster home, ignored at best and abused at worst. I didn’t ask to be taken in by someone who would do his damnedest to break me down in every way, then nearly murder me. I thought that I was doing the right thing by running. I thought that I was doing the brave thing. Yet, I still ended up in another freaking mess of a situation. Part of me can’t help but wonder what the hell atrocities that I must have committed in a past life to deserve this.
I try to be a good person. I am honest. I pay my taxes. I take care of people at their most vulnerable with empathy and compassion and respect. I brake for pigeons when they are too dumb to fly out of the way of my car. I put my cart back in the cart return at the grocery store.
Why is this my life?
My chest is tight and my eyes burn, yet it isn’t until I hear a strangle sob break free from my throat that I realize I am crying. *God, where do I go from here?*
I could try to leave. Bea promised she would help me leave if I wanted to, but that was before I knew that she was insane. Will they even let me leave now? How much danger am I actually in here?
I can’t go back to my apartment. Andrew managed to get in, and I have no idea how. I also have no guarantee that he was here alone. For all I know he’s got a whole group of his sketchy police friends here with him. I’m sure they will be looking for him, now that the Guardians as they call themselves have him in “custody.” Whatever the hell that means.
This is all way too much. I need time and space to process what has happened, and to come up with an exit strategy. I can’t do that here, where I have the inexplicable, idiotic urge to go running straight into Caleb’s arms, even though I logically know that I should be running screaming in the opposite direction as far and as fast as I possibly can.
Maybe I’ll just move into this bush. I have slept outside under the stars more than once in my life, albeit involuntarily. I would likely actually consider it if it wasn’t so damn cold out here. I hadn’t taken the time to grab a heavier jacket on my way out of the house, and I regret not putting on anything heavier than a sweater as a chill runs down my spine and I realize just how freezing I am.
I need a place where I can go and just exist. For a moment, I consider calling up Jamie, but she just moved in with her boyfriend recently, and I don’t want to ask her if I can crash on her couch and interrupt their newly-moved-in-together bliss. I really only have one option. Before I can think too far into it, I pull out my phone and thumb the screen and press the little phone icon to dial. It rings all of twice before a cheerful voice answers.
“Well if it isn’t our very own psych whisperer! To what do I owe this great honor?” In spite of everything, Jason’s goofy humor brings a smile to my face.
“Hey buddy. Can I ask you a huge favor?” Despite my best efforts to hide that I have been crying, my voice cracks.
“Of course you can. Is everything okay?” Concern permeates his voice.
“No,” the words come out in a sob as I finally allow myself to fully fall apart.
“Tell me where you are. I am on my way.”