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“Are you okay?” she calls, her eyes dropping from my tear-stained face to my bandaged hand. She looks kind and genuine, but so did Amanda. As she comes to stand in front of me, she frowns. “Can I call someone for you?”
My heart leaps at her words, and I nod frantically. The thought of speaking to my mom after being away for so long is a little more than I can bear, and I choke back a sob.
“Oh, sweetie. What’s your name?” She moves to put her arm around me, and I flinch. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” She glances back to her car and beckons to it with her head. “My daughter’s in the car along with my phone. Why don’t you come with me, and you can make that call?”
“Okay,” I mutter, knowing I need to make a decision. I silently pray I’m making the right choice. “My name’s Hallie,” I say quietly as I follow her to the car.
“Hi, Hallie. I’m Taylor.” She smiles over her shoulder, and as we get to the car, I can see a toddler strapped into a car seat in the back. She opens the driver’s door and leans inside, reaching for her phone.
“Do you know the number?” she asks kindly. I nod before telling her the number to the landline at home. I hope to God someone is there. She dials the number before passing the phone to me, smiling encouragingly. As desperate as I am to speak to my parents, I can’t help but feel nervous, and I gingerly take the phone from her and place it to my ear. It rings and rings, and when I think no one will answer, I hear a voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello.” The voice is breathless, and I can tell my mom has rushed to answer the call.
“Mom,” I whisper on a sob, dropping to my knees at the side of the road.
Taylor is by my side in a second, her arm around my waist.
“Hallie, is that you?” Her voice is as quiet and unbelieving as mine, and more tears track down my cheeks. I’m silent, unable to speak. “Hallie,” she cries, louder this time.
“It’s me,” I tell her, holding back a sob, somehow managing to pull myself together enough to speak.
“Oh, thank God! Where are you? Are you okay? Brett! Brett!” she shouts, calling for my dad. “It’s Hallie.”
“I want to come home, Mom.” I sob. “I want to come home.” Taylor takes the phone from me as I collapse at the side of the road. She’s talking to my mom, but the noise rushing through my ears makes it impossible for me to hear what’s being said. A few minutes later, Taylor is helping me off the ground and into the passenger seat of her car. She must see the panic on my face as I realize what’s happening, and she forces me to look at her.
“Hallie, you are safe. I’m taking you to the ER. The sheriff will meet us there. I’m going to call your mom back when we’ve got you sorted.”
“No!” I cry, shaking my head wildly. “He’s there. I can’t go to the ER. Please. I can’t see him,” I beg, hysteria taking over.
“Who is there, Hallie?” she asks, her voice soothing as she holds my hand.
“Matt. Matt is there, and he’ll kill me if he knows I’ve escaped. Please don’t take me there.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll go straight to the sheriff’s office. Your hand can be looked at there. You’re safe now, I promise.”
I sigh with relief as I let her help me into the car.
As we pull into the traffic, I turn my head, taking one last look at the dirt track I’ve emerged from. I’m grateful I’ll never have to see that place again.
ChapterThree
Hallie
Ten years later
“Mom, it’s time. I’m twenty-four!” I admonish as I pack the last of my boxes into the trunk of my car. She wipes her eyes before blowing her nose loudly. My dad slips his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest.
“She’s only moving a few blocks away, sweetheart, and she’s right, it’s time. We can’t keep her with us forever.”
“I worry…”
“I know,” he soothes, kissing her hair. “Come on. She’s going to need some help with all those boxes.”
I smile gratefully at him as he ushers her toward his car.
Nervous excitement swirls in my stomach as I climb into my Jeep, placing my beloved camera on the passenger seat. It’s the only thing I couldn’t bring myself to pack. My parents gave it to me a few years after I’d returned from Cedar Falls, hoping to encourage me to get out of the house more. It had taken a while, but it had worked, and now I rarely go anywhere without it. My bedroom walls were full of images I’d captured, and I hope to transfer some of them onto the walls of my new apartment.
Glancing over my shoulder, I take in all the boxes piled into the back. There are so many I can barely see out of the rear window. My whole life is in these boxes, and although I’m anxious about living alone, I also can’t wait to start this new chapter in my life. It seems like it’s taken a lifetime to get to this point. A point where I’m not constantly looking behind me, scared to leave the house.
