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Talia must have sensed something in my tone of voice, because she quickly jumped in and started talking about something Ollie had done that morning.
I gave her a grateful smile. Talia was a lifesaver, in more ways than one.
***
I came home to find Liam getting settled in the family room with a bowl of popcorn.
“Hey,” he gave me a half-smile as I entered the room, “how’d it go?”
“I had fun,” I replied, leaning my shoulder against the doorway. “What’cha watchin’?” I nodded my head at the TV.
“I was going to start The Fast and the Furious. You wanna join me?”
I hesitated for a moment. I’d run out on him the night before and things had been kind of tense in the morning. He seemed genuine, though, not like he was asking just for the sake of it.
“Sure.”
I sat down and he started the movie.
He set the bowl of popcorn between us and grabbed a handful, shoving it into his mouth.
I sat awkwardly, unsure what to do.
I couldn’t get into the movie, and I kept thinking about our time in the dark room. I was dancing around my past, and Liam wasn’t dumb. He knew something was up and I knew it was only a matter of time until he figured it out, or something close to the truth, and the thing was, I was starting to want to tell him. It was like the truth was clawing at my throat, desperate to get out.
Liam paused the movie and set the remote down.
“I can feel you thinking,” he said, turning so he faced me. “Do you want to talk?”
Right there, on the tip of my tongue, were the words I was kidnapped.
My heart screamed for me to say it, to rip them off like a Band-Aid, but I couldn’t. Not only was I terrified to share that truth with someone, but I was even more afraid of saying the words out loud. I never had. I’d never been able to bring myself to acknowledge the truth. I fed myself as many lies as I did the world. It was easier that way, and after a while, the lies start to feel like the truth.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said instead. “I know I act weird sometimes and I’m sorry for that. I’d love to go with you to Hawaii.”
He stared at me, his eyes seeming to peer right through me. His face was unreadable. He never gave me any sort of clue as to what he was thinking and sometimes, like right then, it was so incredibly frustrating.
I kept waiting for him to say something or do something. Anything. But he continued to stare at me like I was some sort of complicated jig-saw puzzle he was trying to figure out.
“Why?”
“Why what?” I replied, completely confused.
“Why are you here?”
There were so many ways to interpret that question.
Why am I in California?
Why am I staying in his house?
Why am I still there?
“I don’t know,” I answered, when I really wanted to say:
I am saving myself.
I need the protection.
