False Perceptions

by Michelle Heard

  I close the third bedroom door behind me. I’m using it for storage where I keep the boxes I don’t need to unpack. Not until I find a bigger place of my own.

  The second bedroom holds a bed and dresser. The picture on the wall makes a slight smile pull at the corners of my mouth. ‘You’ve got this.’ I’ve decorated the room even though I won’t be using it as a guest room. It’s not like I have any friends to invite over.

  That’s another thing he cost me. Friends. I gave my all to that marriage and in the process, alienated myself from life.

  I was stupid.

  Walking into the living room, I straighten the red throw over the black couch. All the colors are bold and alive, not muted like in the past. When I glance at the sound system, a real smile settles on my face. At least I took everything Robert loved.

  Hell, I even took all the toilet paper. He can wipe his ass with our wedding photos for all I care.

  I hate that I’m constantly sharing my brief moments of joy with the ghosts of the past. I wish I could erase the past twelve years.

  I think I might have broken a record somewhere in the world with how fast I moved out of that house and into my new home. Two days. That’s all it took for me to settle into the start of my new life.

  Alone.

  Now that everything is unpacked, a restless feeling creeps over me.

  It’s the first time I can do what I want, be who I want to be. Only, I have no idea where to start.

  There has always been someone I needed to put first in my life, until now. First, it was my family, then Kevin came along. After the divorce, I moved back in with Father, which wasn’t easy. Then I met Robert, and the rest is history.

  Dammit, I’ve wasted so much time.

  My mind turns to Robert and Marie-Jane, and as anger starts to burn in my chest, I shove it down. I shake my head hard, banishing them from my thoughts.

  “You will not think about them,” I whisper as I sit down in front of my laptop. “They no longer exist in your world.”

  I force myself to focus on the screen that’s filled with words. When I start to read the same paragraph for the fourth time, I close my eyes and lean back. Even though I’m on a tight deadline to edit the book, I can’t bring myself to focus. I used to love being an editor, but I haven’t been able to focus on anything for a while now.

  My phone starts to vibrate, dancing across the dark wood of the desk I’ve set up as a workspace in the corner of the living room. It’s my way of forcing myself to not hide in my bedroom.

  For a moment I consider ignoring it, but then my eye catches sight of the bright screen.

  Father.

  As I reach for the phone, my shoulders slump, already feeling drained from the argument I know is bound to happen once I answer the call.

  Pressing the phone to my ear, I clear my throat. “Father?”

  “Have you moved in?” he asks curtly.

  “Yes.”

  “You know, Emilie, your divorce couldn’t have been more untimely.” The disappointment oozes through the phone, and I close my eyes. I open my mouth to defend myself, but his stern voice cuts me off. “My campaign is built on honor, loyalty, security and family. The press is having a field day since they found out that your husband left you for your best friend.”

  I let out a slow breath as my temper flares to life.

  Don’t do it. Don’t… screw it.

  “I’m not a part of your campaign. My life has nothing to do with your running for the presidency. And just so we’re clear, that woman was never my best friend.”

  “Your life is a reflection on me.” He grinds the words out as if they’re bitter on his tongue. “Why can’t you be more like Clare?”

  He had to go there.

  Clare… the pride and joy of the Swanson family. My older sister and mother died in a car accident days before my twenty-first birthday. I was the only survivor. It’s been twenty years since they’ve passed away, but that doesn’t stop my father from reminding me that the wrong daughter died that day.

  Clare was perfect. Everyone loved her.

  I loved her.

  She was my big sister, my hero.

  “Make sure you’re at the rally on Saturday and don’t do anything else to embarrass me.” With the warning, Father ends the call.

  I lean back into the chair as I drop the phone on the desk.

  I didn’t just lose my mother and Clare that day. I lost my father, too. After the accident, he threw himself into his work, and I was left alone in that empty house with the ghosts of the past as my only company.

  They’re always there. The ghosts. They’re in every regret, every memory, every dream that has died.

  Clare was good at everything. She was the perfect daughter, sister, and socialite. She was born to shine, always the brightest star in the room.

  I was the opposite of Clare in every way. I would hide from social gatherings. Hell, I only had one friend, if you could call her a friend seeing as she’s now living in my ex-home with my soon-to-be ex-husband.

  Where life had accepted Clare, showing her only the beautiful side, I was shown the dark side.

  Mom always used to say we were like day and night.

  Clare’s satin-white hair and baby-blue eyes made her look fragile. I, on the other hand, have dark blond hair, green eyes, and a permanent resting bitch face which doesn’t exactly inspire warm and fuzzy feelings in people who meet me.

  At forty-one, I’m about to be divorced for the second time. I have a father who only loves me in front of the camera, but when no one is watching becomes the abrasive Admiral I’ve known for most of my life. I’m just a pawn he positions to where I would be most beneficial to his career.

  People tell you they love you.

  But it’s all a lie.

  My life is filled with lies and broken promises.

  False perceptions.

  Love isn’t disloyal, selfish, or destructive.

  People have forgotten the meaning of love.

  CHAPTER 3

  EMILIE

  I clasp my hands in front of me and stare blankly into the distance, not taking in any of the faces in the sea of people gathered here to support Father.

  “My many years of service to my country is proof that I’m loyal to you, the people, the heart of America,” Father says with a strong voice amplified by the microphone attached to his expensive jacket.

  If he weren’t my father, he would’ve fooled me into believing every word he says.

  Sadly, Father is only loyal to one person. Himself.

  Cheers fill the air filling me with a pang of loneliness. I’m surrounded by hundreds of people, yet I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I do at this moment.

  My eyes drop and start to jump from one face to the next.

  What are their lives like?

  Will they go home to someone who loves them?

  Are they happy?

  With every face, a new question pops into my mind.

  My eyes stop on a little blonde girl that’s pulling at her mom’s hand.

  What dreams does she have?

  What will her future hold?

  The little girl’s eyes meet mine, and she stills as her head tilts to the side. For a moment we only stare at each other as Father’s voice drones over us.

  Then she slowly raises her hand and curls her fingers in a shy wave. Her lips turn up making her already cherub cheeks seem even chubbier. She’s gorgeous.

  My lips answer her smile as our eyes never break contact. I unclasp my hands and wave back to her.

  I’m so caught up in the little girl who looks like an angel in the middle of the crowd that I’m caught off guard when Father says his closing line.

  “I’m George Swanson, and I say it’s time to make America safe again!”

  There’s a group of reporters to Father’s right, so I know to keep standing while some of the people start to leave.

  The little girl gives me one last wave before she walk
s away with her mom.

  “Emilie,” Father growls under his breath. He holds out a hand to me, a loving smile on his face.

  Being the good daughter, I take Father’s hand and let him pull me to his side. I smile at the reporters while suppressing the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Emilie, how are you handling the divorce?” one of the reporters asks.

  “Are you seeing anyone new?”

  “Marie-Jane has moved in with Robert. How do you feel about that?”

  “What will you do now?”

  I latch onto that question as it’s the least invasive.

  “I’m going to support my father during his campaign,” I say as I smile up at Father.

  Lies, all lies! I want nothing to do with Father’s campaign.

  I want to find a small piece of earth in the middle of nowhere which I can make a home. I want to distance myself from humanity.

  I want peace.

  My answer reminds them why they’re here, and they all try to get a question answered by Father before we can finally call it a day.

  “Remember the dinner on Saturday,” Father says with a dark scowl before he dismisses me by turning his back on me.

  I let out a deep breath as I start to walk in the direction of my car. Thank God it’s over. I hate these rallies. I hate the dresses I have to wear. I hate the heels. I hate that I have to put on a bra and leave my house.

  I still believe I should’ve been born a cat. I’m not cut out for this human thing.

  As I open the car door, my phone starts to ring. I dig it out of my bag and press it to my ear as I get into the car.

  “Hi, Kevin,” I answer with a smile. Even though we’re divorced, we’re still civil with each other. We were young and stupid. Honestly, if I knew back then what I know now, I never would’ve let him go. At least he’s loyal.

  “How are you? Did you get settled?” he asks.

  And he still cares. After eighteen years of being divorced, he still cares. The thought makes me feel emotional, and I quickly clear my throat.

  “Yes, everything is unpacked. Thanks for checking on me.”

  “Always.”

  There’s a moment of awkward silence before I ask, “How are the kids?”

  “They’re well. Growing up.”

  Kevin has never been one for words. It feels good knowing that some things will never change. There are still some real people in this world. I’ve learned that time doesn’t change people; people just get tired of pretending. At least that was never the case with Kevin.

  Kevin was never the kind to show affection, and back then I thought that’s what made a marriage. Yeah, right? I thought I needed more, but I was wrong. In the end, loyalty and trust turned out to be what was important, and I had that with Kevin.

  After we got divorced, we remained friends. He married Gwen a few years later, and they seem to be doing well.

  “That’s good.” I start the car and put on my seatbelt. “Give my regards to Gwen.”

  “Will do. Take care of yourself.”

  “I will,” I whisper as the call ends.

  It’s comforting to talk to Kevin even though the chats are short and to the point. It’s comforting because I know without a doubt that he’ll never cheat on Gwen. I need that knowledge now more than ever. To know that there is at least one man on this planet who is honorable.

  “Yeah, you sure were stupid letting a good man like Kevin get away,” I grumble and glance over my shoulder as I start to reverse.

  “I’m glad he’s happy,” I murmur.

  I’m halfway out of the parking space when a black SUV rams into my tail light.

  “Shit,” I shriek with fright. My hands start to shake from the sudden shock as I fumble with the seatbelt. I open my door and get out of the car with shaky legs. “I’m so sorry.”

  Damn! Why didn’t I see the SUV? It’s not like it’s a small car.

  Ugh, just my rotten luck. This is the last thing I need right now.

  “I’m so sorry I backed into you. Let me just grab my license, and we can exchange details,” I say as I lean back into the car so I can grab my bag.

  When an arm locks around my waist, confusion stuns me for a second, but as my body gets yanked backward, it quickly gives way to panic.

  Before I can scream a hand slams over my mouth and I’m dragged away from my car.

  What the hell is going on?

  I try to turn my head so I can get free from the hand clasped over my mouth. The need to scream burns up my throat. I have to call for help.

  I try to dig my heels into the gravel, but in my struggle, one of my shoes gets ripped off. My barefoot scrapes over the ground, not even feeling the pain of the rocks digging into my flesh.

  An icy fear soaks into my bones as I claw at the hand covering my mouth. A sense of danger floods my mind, and my eyes widen with terror as I start to grow drowsy.

  I can’t pass out. Not now. I have to stay conscious.

  The sound of a heavy metal door’s screeching pulls me out of the dead darkness I’ve been stuck in. I try to pry my eyes open as a forceful footfall comes toward me.

  It sounds like a man. The stride is long and hard. Possibly boots?

  Where am I? What happened?

  I try to focus, but all I can remember is a little blonde girl.

  “Look at me,” a calm voice says.

  I struggle to lift my head which feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. I try to pry my heavy eyes open, but all I can do is squint. I can hardly make out my feet which are barely touching the floor.

  “If you don’t look at me when I talk to you, I’m going to hurt you,” the voice suddenly yells, scaring the ever-loving crap out of me.

  Disorientated my eyes snap up, and I try to blink the confusion away. Dread starts to pool in my stomach.

  My eyes focus on the face in front of me, and it takes me another second to realize why I feel scared to death.

  A man, much younger than me and dressed in black watches me like a hawk. His brown hair is a curly mess, and his jaw is covered with a beard. Sweat beads on his forehead, drawing my attention to how hot and stuffy it is in here.

  Here? Where’s here?

  My eyes dart around the room. An empty room. There’s a weird cabinet to my left which looks like it’s about to fall apart. The wood is chipped with dark stains which I assume is from old age. A blue and white cooler is next to it.

  “Look at me, Emilie,” he says, his voice calm again.

  My eyes meet his brown ones for a moment before I glance to my right hand which has a rope tied around my wrist. The rope runs through a loop in the ceiling to where it’s tied against the wall on some sort of hook. A glance at my left shows the same thing.

  My chest starts to tighten and even though I can feel the rope biting into my wrists, I still yank at it.

  Hope. Optimism. Belief. Right now, I cling to those words because I have to trust that this is all a bad dream.

  This isn’t happening to me.

  This cannot be real.

  It’s just a bad dream.

  “Look. At. Me,” the man bites the words out.

  My eyes snap back to his. I can’t read his face or eyes. I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling. I wait for him to say something. Anything. To tell me what’s going on. What I’m doing here.

  But he says nothing.

  He straightens out and then walks away from me. He bangs twice on the door, and it opens with the same heavy screech.

  When it slams closed behind him, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  What is going on?

  Have I been kidnapped?

  Oh, God. I’ve been kidnapped!

  A breath explodes over my dry lips, and I start to yank at the ropes again. My arms are already numb from hanging like this while I was unconscious.

  My eyes drop down to my feet. My heels are gone. I’m standing on a plastic sheet.

  That’s when the dread returns.<
br />
  I’ve seen his face.

  He has no intention of letting me go. When they get what they want they are going to kill me. That’s why he’s not bothering to hide his appearance from me.

  The plastic.

  It will be easy to clean up after he’s done with me.

  Oh my, God. I’m going to die.

  My mind reels as it tries to comprehend my dire circumstances. It happened so fast. Too fast for me to grasp what it all means. One second, I was in my car and the next, I’m here… wherever here is.

  I start to breathe faster as dread thins the air, sucking it out of the room until it feels like I’m being suffocated by the terror creeping over every inch of my trembling body.

  I’ve lost all track of time while I was unconscious. There are no windows in the room, so there’s no way for me to try and see where I’m being held.

  The door opens again, and this time three men come in. Immediately, my heart starts to beat faster.

  Two of the men are wearing ski masks. The other one is the same bearded man from a few minutes ago.

  Bearded-Man comes to stand in front of me while the masked men flank me.

  “Here’s how things are going to work, Emilie,” he says as if we’re having a normal conversation. His voice even sounds a little friendly… pleasant. “You have to come to terms with what’s happening. You’re mine now. You belong to me.”

  His words slither up my spine and over the back of my head, leaving an eerie, desolate feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “If you try to escape, I will kill you. If you lie to me, I will punish you. If you don’t look at me, I will hurt you.”

  No.

  I close my eyes as his words sink in. There’s no doubt now that I’ve been taken. The sliver of hope I had earlier dissolves on the tip of my tongue, leaving a sour taste in its place.

  “Look at me, Emilie,” he shouts, making my body jerk with fright as my eyes snap back open. “I know everything about you. I could’ve killed you the second you got out of your car. But I didn’t. I kept you alive so that we can talk.”