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I didn’t want to be her villain, but I would be if it meant she stayed alive.
I drove to the town, a sleepy place with an unassuming brown sign reading “Welcome to Millbrook”. It was quaint and quiet, far removed from the bustling chaos of the city. Rustling leaves replaced honking cars, and faded wooden houses took the place of towering skyscrapers.
Entering a small grocery shop, I quickly gathered various essentials—fresh produce, canned goods, bread, and some snacks. I also took a moment to grab some prenatal vitamins; she would need those for our baby.
I paid in cash, avoiding any digital trails that could lead anyone to our hideout. The cashier—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes—smiled at me at first, then quieted when she saw the trails of ink down my arm, on my hands. I should’ve known I was going to stand out, but I hadn’t expected the scrutiny from the beginning. I took a hundred dollars out of my back pocket–I always kept cash in me, for emergencies–and paid with it.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, startling me. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. An unknown number was calling—another potential risk.
The cashier handed me my change, her eyes lingering curiously on my face. Suppressing a sigh, I took the change and gave her an amiable nod before stepping outside.
I studied the phone in my hand for a few moments, contemplating my options, before making a decision. A few streets down from the store lay a quietly gurgling river. With a firm grip on the device, I tossed it into the gentle current.
No more digital breadcrumbs for our enemies to follow. I would deal with Adriana’s phone when I got back–I needed to be more careful so her dad wouldn’t think she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
The drive back to the cabin was just as silent as the drive into town, my mind whirling with thoughts of Adriana and the unborn child we were thrusting into this chaotic world. The guilt ate at me, gnawing at my insides with each passing mile. I had wanted to protect her, to shield her from the darker aspects of my reality, but it seemed I had only drawn her further into it. I had wanted to give her what she told me she wanted.
A husband, someone she could actually be with. I had affected her in so many ways already.
The house still stood alone, at the end of the dirt road, nothing around but woods. I killed the engine and listened to the sound of birds chirping somewhere in the distance.
A strange sense of foreboding washed over me as I stepped out of the car, the grocery bags gripped tightly in my hand. The front door was propped slightly ajar, a sliver of fear knotting up in my stomach.
“Adriana?” I called out, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The silence was deafening, making my heart thud against my chest. “Adriana?”
I put the groceries down in the hallway.
I checked her bedroom, empty. The bathroom, also empty. My pulse quickened as I made my way towards the backdoor, finding it unlocked and slightly ajar. A feeling of dread pooled in my gut.
I ran outside.
There she was, standing on the edge of the woods, her short dark hair billowing in the wind. She didn’t turn to look at me; she was just staring into the distance, her slender form tense and rigid.
“Adriana,” I approached her slowly, my voice low and gentle, as if I was trying not to startle a wild animal.
She flinched slightly at the sound of my voice but remained staring ahead. “Did you get what you needed?” she asked flatly, not even turning to look at me.
“Yes,” I said, stopping a few feet away from her. “I did.”
I wanted to reach out and assure her that everything would be okay—but I knew better. We were far from okay; we were trapped in a dangerous game with our lives hanging in the balance.
“There’s no way out of here,” she said, more to herself than to me.
Her voice was quiet, no more than a whisper carried by the wind. The despair in her tone sent a sharp pang of guilt through me.
“Kind of the point,” I tried to sound hopeful, but my words fell flat against the heavy silence between us.
She finally turned to look at me, her dark eyes filled with a profound sadness that clenched at my heart. “Do you want me to feel trapped?”
I had no answer for her. Instead, I extended my hand towards her, a plea for her to come back inside with me. But she recoiled from my touch as if it were poison and she glared at my hand.
“I’m going home,” she said.
“You can’t,” I replied.
“Try to stop me,” she dared, her voice low and defiant.
It was a challenge. An outright rebellion, and I had no idea how to handle it. What I had done before hadn’t worked.
