“I was there when she died. I’m the only one who knows how and why, and I never told anyone because my instinct was to run. I didn’t even stick around to make sure they got her body out alright. I just ran. I thought everyone was dead, including Zander. I was lost and broken and had no desire to live. I had no desire period. I felt nothing. Not even hate or anger over everything that happened.
“When Zander found me and we ended up in Belize, I slept with him. Willingly. I just wanted to know if I could feel something again. Anything. Turned out I wasn’t ready to feel then either, so I left and kept myself lost for a while.”
“How are you now?” he asked, completely skipping over the fact that I slept with Zander, just as I had done the same for him and Thea.
With a tired but real smile, I replied, “Better. I’ve found my place in this world, and I’m on the edge of being legitimately happy with myself.”
“Good,” he answered with his own smile of encouragement.
“That’s why I was going to come. I finally felt like I was ready to see you, finally ready to face the things I’ve done. And apologize for them.”
“You don’t need to apologize for anything. I told you before, I get why you’ve done most of the things you’ve done. And as for the rest? It’s not really my place to tell you that you were wrong to do so. Even Zander. Though in a messed up way, I’m almost glad you slept with him just because you walked out on him afterwards.”
I groaned and rubbed my hands down my face. I could go the rest of my life without reliving this conversation. “Can we leave this conversation dead in the ground?”
“Please,” he replied, all too eager to agree. “I don’t want to talk about Zander or Thea in this way ever again.”
“Agreed.”
“Any more secrets you want to get off your chest? I think this is the time to do it.”
“Uhhh…” I said, dragging the word out. My face puckered when I admitted, “I know about the ring in your drawer.”
Nick’s eyes swept downward, eyeing the sweatshirt that was in the same drawer he kept the little black box in. “Saw that, huh?”
“Technically, I already knew from before. I saw it back in Redding.”
“Oh.” Nick leaned back on his hands. “Well, shit.”
I chuckled lightly, amused by his demeanor. “Did you ever open it?” he asked.
I shook my head. I’d always been curious, but somehow managed to keep from doing that. Probably because with everything that was going on, a marriage proposal just wasn’t something I wanted to deal with.
“Why didn’t you ever ask?”
Nick’s head swayed left and right. He sucked in a deep breath before answering. “Guess I was just waiting for the right day. You know, the one where everything went right and we were actually really happy start to finish.”
“But that day was rarer than a blue moon.”
“Pretty much. But maybe we’ll actually have some now. After a while…”
“I’ve been finally having a few,” I said with confidence.
He turned to look at me, his own lips slowly curling upwards. “You do seem to smile now. You went forever without them.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve only recently found them again. I think it’s because I’ve finally found something I love that really makes me feel good inside. Gives me a reason to get out of bed every day. Kind of the way I think you feel about cooking. Which, by the way, I noticed how incredibly bare your cupboards are. What’s up with that?”
Nick shrugged nonchalantly. “Never been big on cooking for just one. I’ve buried myself at work anyway.
“So what is it you’ve found that you love so much?”
“I’ve gone to work for a non-profit helping others who have gone through the same things as me. Right now I’m the coordinator for the department which interacts directly with their psychological and emotional care. Anise says I can make director someday. I just need to get my psychology degree and a put a few years beneath my belt.”
“That’s amazing. Where is it located?”
“Seattle.”
I saw the light fall out of his eyes, though he tried to hide it. “So will you go to school out there then?”
“I don’t know. I was considering it…before. But I guess where I go now will depend on us. I mean, if we’re going to try this again. Or am I reading this wrong?”
“No, it’s not that. But if your office is there and my restaurant is here, it’s going to require a lot of going back and forth for us. I’d go back to Seattle in heartbeat, but it was a miracle I even got this job. Anne was in the process of leaving for a restaurant in New York when I asked to come back. She’s the reason I got her old managing position”
My eyes narrowed slightly. “Weren’t you cooking last night?”
“Only because one of our chefs was out sick. I fill in when someone needs a shift off. But I need to stay put for a few years and make my mark before I move on.”
I put my hand on his forearm, then slid downward to cover his hand. “I don’t need you to do anything, Nick. What I do now for the non-profit can be done anywhere. I’ll need to go to Seattle every once in a while, but right now that’s maybe once a quarter. I can work from home. Wherever I choose that to be. And I can go to school right here in Portland.”
Suddenly, he brought his face to mine, his lips eager to caress my own. We kissed until we were out of breath, then pressed our foreheads together. I pushed him back and eased my way onto his lap, tending to his lips once more. This time they were slow and steady, sweet and soft. I loved the feel of his hands on my back, the heat of his body against mine, warming me despite the chill in the air. I just loved…him, and never wanted to be parted from this day forward.
“So, exactly how close are your nearest neighbors?” I teased, biting my lower lip afterwards.
He returned my playful grin, then said the best three words ever. “Not that close.”
I opened the session five minutes prior, then sat there waiting as one by one eleven others began to log on to our private video conference. This was the first step in developing Operation: Recovery’s survival care program, and it had been slowly growing these past several weeks, enough that I had three different groups I ran twice a week. And I appreciated that the non-profit gave me complete control over it, including vetting every single person I allowed into the program. I wanted this to be a safe place to talk, and I wanted to make sure that only legitimate victims made their way in.
In this particular session, ten were female, one was male, and an equal amount of those who were brave enough to use their webcam were matched with those who just used audio. I found that most of the newbies preferred anonymity, though two who had been with me from the beginning still kept their end of the line dark and quiet. Which was fine. If that was what they needed right now, then that was what they were going to get. I never pushed anyone to share. They were free to be silent, free to be a black square for the rest to see.
But don’t get me wrong. A part of me always wondered if Zander was capable of faking his way into my group. If anyone could do it, it would be someone like him.
Once all twelve were logged on, I took one last sip of my drink before beginning.
“Alright guys, time to start. We have two new people joining us today. For you two, just know this is a safe place. Everyone here has come from a similar situation. We all have scars. We all have pain and nightmares. If you’re anything like me, then talking about it with a therapist who’d never been through it just didn’t help. Honestly, I think it made it worse. That’s why I asked the good people at Operation: Recovery to bring us together like this. Maybe together we can find the peace we’re looking for.
“So I’ll start today. Hi. My name is Claire. Or at least that’s what it was when I was taken at seventeen. I didn’t do anything to deserve it, and I doubt there’s anything I could have done differently to keep it from happening. A car hit me from behind on my way to school. Silly me,
I thought my biggest problem that day would be explaining the dent in the bumper to my parents. I don’t remember much else from that day. Thanks to the constant drug use I don’t remember a third of my captivity. But it doesn’t mean I don’t remember the rest. I was raped, beaten and belittled. And there were so many days I just wanted to roll over and die.
“I remember thinking, this doesn’t happen in the U.S. But I was wrong. I was taken in the U.S. and kept in the U.S. Seems society turns a blind eye no matter where you live in this world. It’s not just the homeless and poor and those in third world countries who can’t defend themselves. I was just the girl next door and it happened to me. And it happened to all of you. And for that I’m truly sorry, because there’s no one in this world who deserves to be treated that way.
“Three years, nine months, fourteen days. That’s how long my ordeal has lasted since I was first taken. And yes, I’m still counting, because it never feels over to me. It’s always right there. The memories. The nightmares. Sometimes I think I see something out the corner of my eye, or think I see someone I recognize from that life. It’s hard not to let my imagination run away with that kind of thought, because I know all too well how very real it could be.
“Will I get over it? Everything that happened? Maybe. At least parts of it. But I won’t let the fear of what’s happened in the past keep me grounded anymore. I got tired of being scared. Got tired of hiding. I wanted my life back. And I hope one day you will too.
“But enough of me. Anyone else ready to share for a while?”
“I am,” I heard Kyleigh say. I smiled upon hearing her voice. She was the first to be invited into the program, and one of the ones brave enough to use her webcam. She was just seventeen now, with soft, beautiful features that even a poorly pixelated webcam couldn’t dampen.
I listened to her and some of the others speak for hours of loved ones they were eager to get back to. How they couldn’t wait to get their lives back. They spoke of worries of notable scars, both inside and out. And though some of their external injuries would fade over time, I knew the inner turmoil would never fade enough to anyone’s liking. There would always be the memories that refuse to be forgotten. Smells. Certain touches.
I’ve had three captors in the few years I was enslaved, though it felt like forever. As of now, two were dead. The third I no longer feared. Sometimes I would dream of Friggs, but I no longer had the stuff of nightmares the others were speaking of. But I could still feel the touch of their hands on my skin, and out of nowhere, was cruelly reminded in such a way that I found myself slapping at ghost who wasn’t there.
Little by little we were torn to pieces. I doubt any of us would ever feel whole again.
But I was sure going to try.
After I ended my session, I headed outside for the mail. I moved in three weeks ago, so Nick and I had already found the same ole groove we once had. For once our lives seemed simple, almost easy. Nick cut back on his lunch hours to spend more time at home with me, where we literally holed up and enjoyed every minute of it. Never once did he slip and call me Megan, which was impressive. Mia was my official new name. Since Nick went back to his original identity, I thought it was pointless not to use mine. So I had another official name change. Goodbye Megan Whitaker, hello Mia Whitaker. I still had the identity Zander created, but Mia Kratovski was tucked away in the safe as contingency, including the little black credit card, phone and laptop. It was nice while it lasted, but that Mia wasn’t the real me. I was a Whitaker through and through – possibly an Ellis in the very near future, which I could also go for.
I even traded out the Mercedes for something a little less flashy. Not to mention untagged. But it didn’t completely surprise me when I sorted through the mail only to find a card from Zander, who according to the mail stamp, was still living it up in Belize. Once upon a time that would have bothered me. Now I simply shrugged it off. I could move to the polar icecaps and Zander would still figure out which igloo was mine, so I learned to just roll with it. He was always going to know where I was and there was nothing I could do about it. So long as he kept his distance, I no longer minded. Hell, if anything, I appreciated knowing someone had my back should the shit hit the fan again.
He’d never be considered a savior in my book, but he wasn’t the monster I used to identify him with either. I could never truly forgive some of the things that happened, but I could also never repay him for some of the others. It was a truly fucked up situation. One I kept to myself, too.
I opened the card right there outside, not wanting to go any farther with it. It was a plain light orange card, nothing typed or depicted inside or out, just a sentence written by his own hand.
If I can’t win your love in this lifetime, then perhaps I can in the next. – Alikzander
I tucked the card back in and stuffed it inside a flyer that would hit the trash as soon as I stepped inside. Not so much as to disrespect him and his beautiful sentiment, but to not disrespect the man inside who I truly wanted to spend my life with.
I began to wonder if Zander would move on now. Could he? Or would he wait indefinitely hoping for the day I might come back to him? For the day when the possibility of us felt more right than wrong. I honestly couldn’t say it would ever happen. I also couldn’t say that it never would. Like him, I was changing day by day. Driven. Determined. Who I was today may not be the same ten years from now. All I knew was that my current path felt right – Nick felt right – and it was the path I would continue to pursue, no matter the obstacles before me.
I headed straight for the trash can inside. Once deposited, I realized I smelled lunch but saw nothing in the kitchen. The oven was off, the stove bare. “Nick?” I called, setting the rest of the mail on the counter. When he didn’t answer, I called again as I set off to find him.
I found him out back, sitting at the outdoor dining table reading the newspaper. The table was already set for lunch, but he was waiting for me, whatever he cooked protected under dome-shaped bamboo covers. It was a beautiful afternoon, clear skies in all directions, the air warm but still comfortable.
“Hey,” I said in cheerful greeting, kissing him on the lips before sitting down. “What are we having, because you had me dying of hunger smelling that during my session.”
With a playful twist to his mouth, he teased, “You’ll see.”
Taking his dare, I removed the bubble-top lid. My mouth fell open, already watering as soon as I saw my most favorite meal ever. “You made my mom’s Albondigas soup? I think I love you.” Seriously, my heart was melting. She had made it for me in the after, and as I was practically drooling over it, she had told me it was Claire’s favorite meal. It saddened me to know she was gone, but I still had the memory of her. And this was definitely one of the good, heart-warming ones.
“Think? Or you know?” Nick teased.
“Alright, I suppose I can admit that I love you.”
I unrolled my spoon from the napkin.
“Thank God, because if you didn’t, this was about to get real awkward.”
I looked to him curiously, but he just winked before eating his first bite of soup. I picked up my own spoon to dive in, but paused before I ever got it dunked. The silver spoon had been stamped with the words Will You Marry Me?
Nick was smiling when my eyes returned to him. He motioned towards the last remaining cover between us. I had assumed it was more soup in case we wanted seconds. My breath got caught in my lungs as I revealed the velvety ring box beneath. I knew this was coming, so I don’t know why I cried. But at that moment the floodgates open and tears of joy glided down my cheeks. Fuck! Why was I always crying these days?
“Well?” he probed before taking a bite, with a smile even chewing couldn’t hide.
I chuckled twice and put the lid back over the soup – it could wait. I climbed onto his lap and pressed my lips to his for real this time, refusing to let go. I told him yes in as many ways as verbally and physically possible. Not just for Mia, but for
Claire. For Natalie. Rachel. But mostly for Megan, who deserved that happily ever after most of all.
**************************************************************
*Due to high levels of under-reporting, the number of sex-trafficking victims worldwide is impossible to determine. The US Dept. of State estimates that in the last decade, 20 million women and children across the world have been forced into the sex trade industry, which generates more than 32 billion dollars annually.
Devon Ashley is a mom, a lover and a fighter, a coffee addict, a wicked knitster, a Microbiologist, a baker of fine yummy treats, and someone who will fight you to the death for that last Twinkie bag of M&Ms during the zombie-apocalypse. Seriously, her addiction is that important to her. Oh, and she says seriously way too much. Seriously…
Nearly
New Adult Romantic Suspense
Nearly Broken, One
Nearly Mended, Two
Nearly Undone, Three
Nearly Trilogy Set, Amazon Exclusive
The Sleepers’ Coalition
New Adult Romantic Thriller
Sparrow 59, One
Untitled, Two (Coming TBA)
Twist Into Me
New Adult Contemporary Romance
Twist Into Me
Waiting on my Reason
New Adult Romantic Suspense
Waiting on my Reason
Falling
Coming of Age Contemporary Romance
Falling in Between, One
Falling Away, Two
Falling Upward, Novella
The Complete Falling Novels, Amazon Exclusive
Of Dust and Darkness
Young Adult Pixie Fantasy
Dust, One
Stardust, Two
Ashes & Dust, Three (Coming TBA)
The Immortal Archives
New Adult Urban Fantasy
Ordained, One
Metamorphosis, Two
Catacombs, Three
Hollow, Four (Coming TBA)
NEARLY Trilogy Page 85