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I quickly follow him into the bedroom and sit down on the side of the bed.
Dark memories swirl around me, like sharks waiting to attack. I try to take a deep breath, but the ache in my chest stops me.
Shh… it’s okay.
You’re okay.
Don’t think about it.
I take the paper bag Damian left on the bedside table and open it, but then I just stare at the sandwich.
My throat swells impossibly thick with unshed tears, and my breaths start to come faster.
Shh…
Don’t think about it.
I can’t deal with what I just saw in the mirror. It’s not that I’m black and blue, but rather the stark reminder of my time in the container that’s dragging me under.
God.
I fight to keep control of the volcano that’s threatening to erupt inside of me while just staring at the food.
You’re okay.
Finally, I reach into the bag, and taking the sandwich out, I bite into it. It’s tasteless and thick in my mouth, but I swallow the food down, along with the destructive emotions threatening to drag me under.
I focus on finishing the food, and then I crawl back under the covers. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the black behind my eyelids to keep my mind from wandering.
We’ve been at the motel for almost a week. Damian locks the door behind him whenever he goes for food, and he’s never gone for long. He reads a lot. I don’t ask what.
The TV’s always on, murmuring in the background. I don’t ask where we are. I ask him nothing, and he says nothing. He’s just there to bring me food and tend to my wounds, and for now, I’m okay with it. I don’t think I have it in me to do anything more than the absolute basics.
“Time to go, Cara,” Damian breaks the silence during the early hours of the morning. He sounds different. His voice is deeper, and the neutral tone he’s been using is gone. I open my eyes and glance at him where he’s stuffing things into a bag.
“We’re going home,” he adds.
Home?
What?
It’s still dark out, and glancing at a clock on the wall, I see it’s almost three am.
Damian’s eyes meet mine. “You’re strong enough for the trip home. Come on. Let’s go.”
I haven’t looked at Damian’s face since the first day in the bathroom. I think it’s the way he wants it, too. But today, my eyes have a mind of their own, and they take in his rough features.
I remember dead gray eyes. That’s why I’ve been avoiding his face, plus it made the past week easier. They’re still gray, but it looks like there’s a storm brewing in them, something deadly and sharp.
I’m scared Damian can see too much, and I drop my gaze to his neck. A tattoo peeks from the neckline of his shirt. It almost looks like some sort of claw as it disappears beneath the charcoal fabric.
Home.
“Ah… home?” I ask.
Damian nods. “My home. We’ll be safer there.”
Oh.
Right.
We can’t continue to stay at this motel, but… home?
It’s been years since I thought of a place to call home, and it reminds me of everything I’ve lost, my grief, my trauma.
I quickly push myself up off the bed, not wanting to think of the hell I’ve been through.
Damian grabs the bag, and I watch him leave the room, unsure how I feel about leaving the motel to go ‘home’ with this man. I’m not sure about anything anymore.
I quickly go to the bathroom, and when I’m done washing my hands, I walk out into the sleeping area and wait, unsure if I should just go outside.
I wring my hands together and wonder what would happen if I tried to make a run for it. I know Damian said Uncle Tom sent him, but that doesn’t mean much. He could be one of them, babysitting me until Uncle Tom shows up, and then they kill both of us. It could be a trap.
My body is seized by panic as one unrelenting dark thought after the other flashes through my mind.
Damian comes back into the room, and then he heads right for me. My mind screams at me to move, but I stand frozen like a deer in front of an oncoming truck. He lifts his hands, and I flinch, but then I see the sweater. He pulls it over my head, and I quickly shove my arms through the sleeves. Then he takes hold of the hood and covers my head.
“Keep your head down out there. There’s no one outside. It’s a two-hour drive home.” Damian lifts a hand to my face, and placing a finger beneath my chin, he nudges me to look at him.
“After today, this is all over. You get to disappear.”
I swallow hard, not sure I understand.
“We just need to blend in as best we can so no one looks at us. Almost home.” His mouth twitches at the corner, and then he lets go of my chin, and he moves to the bed. He grabs a pair of shoes from the floor. I didn’t even see them there.
