She hugs me back, and everything feels right for the first time in a while.
The FBI stops by the next day to talk to her, now that she is doing better. Two agents sit in our living room. I try not to glare as they ask her questions. I just got her to agree to talk to someone yesterday, and now she’s being forced to rehash it for their sake.
There isn't much she can offer, except the details of her abduction and the final days of her imprisonment.
I am surprised to find out that Darryl had left her alone in her cell for the most part.
Her recount of how he would slide food through the door, but never acknowledge her, makes me ache. She admits to thinking she was going crazy more than once.
Her eyes are on the floor, “Some of my wounds were self-inflicted. I tried to escape by scratching and clawing at the door.” Her shoulders curl in, and she’s shrinking into the sofa.
I want to rip my hair out, but I force myself to sit and listen. If she had to live it, I can be with her while she has to retell it.
Samantha goes on to say he pretty much admitted to killing her mom.
“Something about her making him hurt her too,” she shakes her head. “I was a bit out of it at the time, but…” she trails off, her head tilting to the side. “There was a camera, a red blinking light. I saw it. Did you find anything?” She gulps, finishing, “In the house?”
They confirm that they did find recordings. I look down, not wanting to let on that I knew about them too.
The days grow closer for us to leave Alabama behind.
“Why can’t we just go back to my studio?” Her voice curious, but she seems happy at the idea of us continuing to live together. Through all the questions from the FBI, no one told her that Darryl was in the apartment below hers. She doesn’t know about the small holes drilled in the corner of the floor.
I tangle my fingers with hers and pull her to a small sofa. I place our hands on my thigh, waiting for her to settle in.
Her eyes peer up to mine, questioning.
“We haven’t really talked a lot about what was happening, before Darryl abducted you.” She flinches the tiniest bit when I say his name. Squeezing my fingers, she starts to glide the back of her hand up and down my thigh, nervously. She stays silent, not asking where this is going, so I continue, “Remember when we thought someone was in the apartment below yours?”
My brows raise, and she looks away from me.
Her head tilts.
“It was him.”
It’s not a question. Her voice has gone flat and her hand freezes. She stares out straight ahead, lost in thought.
“I can’t believe I forgot about that,” She adds quietly to herself.
“You’ve had a lot on your mind Samantha. I wasn’t keeping it from you.” I explain, “Not on purpose anyway.” I lean forward, trying to catch her expression.
Her eyes narrow. She tugs her hand free of mine, scooting forward so she’s perched on the sofa’s edge.
It’s the first time since she’s been home that I see anger flicker across her features.
“Sammy?”
Her head drops down, and her good elbow rests on her knee.
“I can’t believe he’s going to take my home from me too.” Her head turns to me, tears brimming the edge of her lashes, but it’s anger I see most in her expression, not sorrow.
I blow out a breath.
“It doesn’t have to be forever. If you want to go back there and live there,” I swallow thickly, dreading stepping back inside that place now that I have her back. “We could do that if that’s what you want. We can do that.”
She shakes her head, her jaw tightens as her lips tremble.
“No…no. I don’t think I do. Does that make me weak?”
