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With a tight chest, I go into the closet and pull clothes from the hangers, then stop. My clothes are in his closet, the man who held me, hostage, right beside his. This is not normal. The heartache, the normality of my day-to-day life in this house. All of it is wrong.
After I dress, I take the ID from the dresser. A student visa for Sarah Jones from Cornwall, England, with my picture in the corner. On a sigh, I pocket it, then cut through the house, fighting the urge to knock on Caleb’s door and say goodbye. Stop normalizing this crap, Victoria. These people are not your friends. So why does that thought feel like a lie to my heart?
Jude’s not in the living room, and that’s just fine. I don’t want him to stop me. I go through the door and stop. Jude sits on the front step, his back to the house and wisps of cigarette smoke hanging over his head. Something tugs at me when I go to move past him, like some magnetic pull wanting to draw me back to his side.
“What are you doing, Tor?”
“Leaving.”
“I said I was taking you tonight.”
“I don’t need anything from you.” So why does it feel like I need everything he can give. Because I’ve lost my mind. I start down the steps, fighting back tears.
“That’s ten acres of thick pine….”
No shit. The sun scorches my skin as I cross the lawn, and I’m thankful when I reach the shade of the tree line. My thoughts shift from Jude to the headline: Vanderbilt medical student found dead, and the heartbreak once again turns into rage. I’m dead and buried, and so is my undergraduate degree, my graduate research, my residency. Just when my life should be about to start, it’s all been taken away.
Pine needles crunch beneath my feet as I trek farther into the woods. I get far enough away from Jude’s house that I know he can’t see me before I sink to the ground and bury my head in my hands. What the hell am I supposed to do when I leave here? And what happens if Tom finds out I’m not actually dead? I don’t even know what the man looks like. How I'm supposed to stay away from monsters that I can’t identify? My head is a mess of emotions and fears. I can’t accept the fact that I may end up going through something like this again if Tom finds me. Jude has dictated my life since I was dragged into his house, and this is where it stops. I’m not leaving until Tom Campbell is dead, and I can go back to the life I busted my ass for. I don’t want to be Sarah Jones, and I don’t want to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.
I push up from the ground, dusting dirt from my hands on my way back toward the house. Jude is still on the porch, a fresh cigarette in his hand and a smirk on his face that infuriates me. “Get lost?”
Instead of answering, I take the ID from my pocket and hand it to him. “I worked seven years to be a doctor. I’m not throwing that away.”
He takes a slow drag from his cigarette and damn him for making something so unhealthy look attractive. “Hate to tell you, you’re never getting that back.”
“Oh, I will. Just as soon as you kill Tom.”
“You have no idea how any of this works. Just because I kill him doesn’t mean you get your life back. You’re dead, Victoria.” He flicks the butt of his cigarette across the yard, then takes the piece of plastic from my hand.
“And when Tom’s gone, I’ll pop up and be undead, Jude.”
A flicker of amusement crosses his green eyes. “You don’t wanna be Sarah Jones? Fine.” He holds up the ID between his fingers and folds it in two. “But the sooner you accept you’ll never be Victoria Deveaux again, the better off you’re gonna be.”
That is a reality I refuse to accept. “I can’t...” My voice cracks, and it feels like I’m on the verge of breaking until he pulls me against his chest. I cling to him like he’s a life raft in the stormy sea of my ruined life, but he’s more like an island, one I’m trapped on. One I don’t think I want to be rescued from. I tell myself I came back because if he kills Tom, I can have my old life again. But it’s more than that.
After a few moments, he unwinds his arms from around me, then cups my face in his rough hands. “I didn’t want you to leave.”
And that might be the worst part of all because as messed up as it is for me to feel any kind of pull toward him, I know he feels it, too. We’re two people who have been thrown into each other’s paths, and I’m not sure how much longer I can fight this.
