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A laundry list of shit goes through my mind, and the worry that she may be implicated in any of it has me sick. The officer brings her arms behind her back, and I lose my shit. “She’s pregnant! Let her go.” I fight against the officer holding me and immediately find the barrel of a rifle pointed in my face.
“Calm your shit, Pearson.”
I stare down the barrel of the rifle, unable to do a damn thing to keep them from hauling her and Marney to separate vehicles. “She’s fucking innocent,” I plead while I’m dragged toward the open door of a car. “I kidnapped her. She’s just a hostage. Let her go.”
“You care an awful lot about your hostages, huh, Pearson?” The agent places his hand on my head and shoves me inside, slamming the door closed. I drop my head back against the seat, fighting an onslaught of emotions.
What happens to her if she tells them she chose to stay? The last thing I want is for a jury to question her sanity, her ability to care for our child. I need her to make them believe I’m a monster and she was just my helpless victim.
34
Victoria
5 months later
I stare through Lizzy’s kitchen window at the bleak gray skies of Mississippi winter. The silence in the house is peaceful, and I find myself hoping she’ll stay at the store just a little longer. I hate that I wish for such things. Lizzy was once my best friend, but she now feels like a stranger. Anytime I try to talk to her, she looks at me with pitiful gazes. She doesn’t listen. I have told her over and over again that Jude didn’t force himself on me, that I love him. And the more I say it, the more upset she becomes; the more she treats me like some broken doll. So I’ve stopped talking. All I am to her is “poor Victoria, so screwed up with Stockholm Syndrome.” “Poor Victoria who should really give up her kidnapper’s baby for adoption. Just the suggestion feels like a betrayal, and I have no one who understands that. I’ve never felt so alone in my life.
I press my hand to my massive stomach like I can feel bonded to Jude through our daughter. He’s going to have a little girl, and he doesn’t even know. Or maybe he does. I haven’t heard from him since his arrest, although I’ve sent letters. Perhaps he’s read them and has chosen not to respond. I’m living in this perpetual state of limbo, unable to move forward or go back. Five months is more than enough time to get over someone, to come to terms with this, but I can’t. Maybe it’s the hormones driving unfailing loyalty to the father of my child, but it feels like Jude is branded on my heart and soul. Pain and suffering and love put him there, and no amount of time can strip that away.
The chime of the doorbell echoes through the house, and I move away from the counter toward the front of the house. It sounds again, and when I open the front door, a man in an expensive-looking suit stands on the other side. "Miss Deveaux?"
"Yes."
"I'm Robert McKinley, Jude Pearson's attorney."
My stomach clenches when he reaches into his suit pocket and brings out an envelope. "Jude asked that I give this to you and that you do exactly as it says."
My fingers shake as I take the envelope. The lawyer wishes me a good day, and I go back inside, fighting back nerves as I took a seat on the couch before ripping the envelope open.
Tor,
I love you. Know that above all else. You gave me something I never knew I wanted or needed until you were dumped in my office, scared but fighting with every breath. All I think about is you. I miss you. Fuck do I miss you. I promised you I would protect you, and I always will, no matter where I am. Now though, you have to protect our baby because I can't. That means letting me go.
I'm going to jail for the rest of my life, and nothing you say or do will help me. When they call you as a witness next week, you need to testify against me. Tell them the truth. Do not lie for me.
You were kidnapped.
I held you hostage.
Everything you said, did, or witnessed was against your will.
Most importantly, you do not love me. I raped you, which is why you are pregnant.
Everything you did was to survive. Tor that is the end of it. Anything else and your sanity will be called into question. This is the only thing I ask of you. I need you to be there for our child because I can't, and they will need their mother. I would have given you both the fucking world, and I failed you... I'm sorry. You are my everything. Always and forever, doll.
