The footsteps are measured, deliberate, and steadily heading this way.
I've never seen him angry before.
He wouldn't hurt me, would he?
He might when he sees this mess.
Each beat of my heart pounds against my rib cage, my breath coming in quick bursts as the doorknob slowly turns, rotating degree by degree. Time decelerates, the seconds crawling by as I wait to see Amos's reaction. I don't think he'd hurt me, especially since he didn't lay a hand on me during our argument, but tension and stress make people act in strange ways.
I scramble to my feet, a short, involuntary scream leaving me at the sight of the male face that appears in the opening. He...he's not Amos, but could easily have been him if hewereabouttwenty years younger. This man must somehow be related.
"Oh. Hello, Miss. I didn't mean to scare you, but what are you doing here? This is private property." He directs a stern look at me as he steps further into the room. I recognize that look. I've seen it on Amos multiple times before. His father, maybe? Or an uncle?
"I... Amos brought—" How am I supposed to answer a question like that?
A knowing expression covers his face. "Ah. I see. You've been staying with my son?"
That's one way to put it.
"Did he do this?" The Amos lookalike growls the words as he takes in the disarray.
"Mitchell, honey, who's in there?" An older woman with silvery blonde hair pops her head under his shoulder. "Well, hello there, sweetheart. Are—" Her gaze roams over the room before falling on me once again with worry. "Are youallright?"
Am Iallright? No, I'm not. In fact, I'm the furthest thing from all right after these past few days. "I…" Tears collect again, threatening to fall at the slightest provocation. "Not really."
Compassion wells in her eyes. "What did that son of mine do now?"
These are his parents. That does it. My bruised heart reacts to the genuine concern emanating from these people, and the tears I tried so valiantly to hold back burst free as I choke out, "He...he abducted me and—" A sob claws its way from my throat.
The man and woman glance at each other before she speaks. "Oh. Let me in, Mitchell. Come here, sweet thing." Soft arms wrap around me in a motherly embrace and press my cheek against a cotton-covered shoulder. "Everything will be all right now, I promise. It’ll get easier;you’ll see.You just go ahead and let yourself have a good cry."
Her words liberate the torrent of hurt in me and the weight I've dragged around from childhood—the burden that steadily grew heavier with each passing year—washes away with the cathartic release that can only be found in a mother's arms. I soak in the silent strength this unknown woman freely offers me as the tears from my shuddering sobs saturate her shirt.
"There, there." A massive hand awkwardly pats my head as Amos's dad tries to comfort me, too. Surrounded in an embrace by a mother and father figure I never had, I cry even harder.
When my eyes stop leaking and my sobs become the occasional, quiet hiccup, I raise my head, surreptitiously looking for something to wipe my face with.Oh, no.I left a mess on her shoulder. A handkerchief presses into my hand, along with a gruff, "Here. Take this."
"Mitchell," Amos's mom scolds as she snatches it away, "you and your handkerchiefs. Don't give her that dirty thing; it's been in your pocket forever. She probably wants to wash her face. Go on, sweet thing. You wash up and we'll be right here when you come out."
My steps are unsteady as I walk to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, taking in my appearance in the mirror. Except for making the green in my eyes exceptionally vivid, crying doesnotdo me any favors, that's for sure. I rest the refreshing coolness against my swollen eyelids before scrubbing the salty tear trails away.
I need to decide what I'm going to do. My abductor's parents are out there waiting for me. To be honest, I really just want to take a nap. Forgetting everything else, today has been extremely eventful. Monumental things, beginning with the way he woke me up this morning to our argument and everything in between, and it's a lot to take in.
Emotionally exhausted, that's what I am. Too exhausted to think clearly. But I know I don't want to stay here waiting for Amos to come back. And even if I had transportation, I don't want to travel four hours back to Providence Falls. When he took me, I only had a little bit of food left in my pantry.
No, I can't go back. I'd have to go to town to get food and risk running into someone who might start asking questions. I simply can't deal with that anytime soon. He still has my wallet, so I have no money or identification to get a hotel room, either.
Hushed voices filter through the door. Maybe his parents would be kind enough to loan me some money, but I don't know if I can get up the nerve to ask them. I can't hide in here forever, though, so I take a deep breath and walk out.
"—if she called the police?"
I couldn't do that to Amos. No matter how mad I am at him. I need to tell them. "No, I didn't."
At my interruption, their conversation halts and we all stare at each other.Should I have?My stomach is the first to break the ice, letting loose a growling sound so loud that redness creeps up my face.
"Well," his mother gently laughs. "First things first—let's get you something to eat."
History repeats itself as I let his mother lead me down the hallway to the kitchen. It seems all the Shays are determined to feed me before answering any of my questions.
