Her fingers slipped from the unclasped necklace as she realized that she had, in fact, never resented her mother. It was the exact opposite. She wanted to be just like her. That happy. That sure of herself.
“Oh!” Evelyn said as the necklace fell to the floor with a metallic thud.
“I’ll get it.” Her body breaking into a sweat, Naomi stepped around the full red skirt of the dress.
“Oh, thanks. I can’t bend over in this thing. It has a corset. I can barely breathe.”
Strange, Naomi thought as she scooped the necklace into her clammy hands. It was difficult for her to breathe too.
XXV
THAT NIGHT ERIC LET HER WATCH A MOVIE in the living room while he worked in his office. Halfway through the movie she went into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of hot cocoa. Evelyn bought the kind she liked with the little marshmallows in the packet. Jesse liked that kind too, and as she stirred the mix into the hot water she thought about how he had held her until she fell asleep. He was there when she woke up in the morning. He hadn’t moved an inch. Then he left.
With a sigh, she sat at the table and put her head in her hands. How many times would he leave? She felt the strongest connection to him, like a string stretching to the breaking point every time he was away. One day it would snap if he didn’t knock it off. What could he possibly have to leave for again? Eric hadn’t ordered him away.
She lifted her head and took a sip of cocoa. She could see Eric sitting at his desk in his office. He was on the phone and smiled when he looked up at her. He mouthed “Pizza,” and pointed to the phone receiver.
She nodded. Pizza sounded good. Then again, so did some fresh air. She hadn’t been outside in so long. She envied Jesse’s freedom to leave the house and drive away.
Lowering her eyes to the table, she studied the newspaper Steve had left sitting by his reading glasses.
Then she froze.
A magazine poked out from beneath the newspaper, an article partially visible. She read what she could of the title: Revealing the Mysteries Behind Abusive Emotional Bonding: A Closer Look Into—
Somebody had gone through the article and highlighted specific sections in bright yellow, like a homework assignment. Her stomach sank. Slowly, she reached forward and pulled the article out from underneath the newspaper. A part of her wanted to ignore it, forget she had seen it, but the other part of her couldn’t stop. She had to see what it said. Yellow highlighted paragraphs. She made herself read one of them. Her fingers started to go numb.
Further research has shown that the largely accepted idea of consistent positive treatment is perhaps not the strongest way humans secure attachment to others ... hostages often bond to their captors most strongly when those captors consistently reward good behavior and severely punish bad behavior (often physically or with threats of death). This also occurs frequently in romantic relationships where abusive control is prevalent.
Naomi swallowed and pushed the article away. There were a lot more paragraphs highlighted. She wondered why they would highlight them. It was sick and wrong. Was it because they were studying better ways to gain her loyalty—to get her to bond to them more strongly than before? Standing, she met Eric’s eyes and swallowed.
It wasn’t that she had never realized what they were doing to her, but seeing those sections highlighted made her want to throw up. It made their actions seem shallow. Fake. Did they really care for her or was it only for their own benefit, their own safety, to keep her freaking mouth shut?
She left her mug on the table and headed upstairs to her room. She had to think. She went straight to her bed and grabbed her journal from the nightstand. When she opened it, the smell of ink drifted to her nose. She scanned passages about Jesse and her mother, noticing that she sometimes talked about Evelyn and the others, but not often. The entries progressed from mentions of escape and thoughts about home to nothing but Jesse and occasionally her mother.
Then, in one entry near the end, she stopped and read a line that made her hands shake.
When Jesse comes home we can talk about what happened.
She thought of this house as her home now. They had made sure she saw it that way, even if the rational side of her brain told her exactly how they had done it. Was it wrong? She saw herself standing in front of an open door, blue sky and the ocean on the other side. That door had opened when she saw her parents on TV. Could she really turn away?
She had already turned away, she realized. Now she had to turn back. A knock on the door made her slam the journal shut and throw it under the covers. Eric stepped inside, confusion on his face. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “I just came up to get a book. It must be in the den.”
“I was heading there anyway. Come on. You can read while we wait for the pizza.”
Nodding, she followed him down the hall and into the den. She tried to keep her eyes away from the double glass doors where the night was already cold and black. Her heart pounded as she imagined swinging herself over the railing of the balcony—right onto the tree branch. She sat in the armchair closest to the balcony doors. Her shoulders slumped.
Eric raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you want a book?”
She shrugged again. “Not really, I guess. I’m just hungry.”
“Well, I ordered your favorite.” He headed straight for her. “Pepperoni and olives, right?”
She looked up at him as he stopped in front of the armchair. He was dressed the same as the first time she had seen him—jeans and a black T-shirt. He was clean-shaven.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, sliding her trembling fingers beneath her thighs.
He kneeled and put a hand on her knee. “Jesse’s coming back soon. Everything will be okay.” His hand tensed. “Nothing has changed.”
She nodded, but her mind was a million miles away, focused on her journal. She hadn’t noticed before how her handwriting was just like her mother’s. It had the same feel, the same personality.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” Eric interrupted her thoughts. “Do you want a drink before our dinner comes?”
She shifted beneath the weight of his hand on her knee. He would have to leave when the pizza came to the front door. She would be alone for at least three or four minutes while he paid the delivery boy and got plates and napkins. Her eyes glazed over.
“Naomi?”
“Oh, sorry.” She changed her stupid expression to a sloppy grin. “Sure, a drink sounds good, if there’s Coke.”
She hoped there wasn’t. The last time she had looked, the stash of Coke in the fridge was gone. Eric knew as well as she did that Evelyn kept more in the pantry downstairs. The longer she could get him out of the room the better.
“Sure.” He stood and headed for the fridge. She waited with frozen breath, staring at the bookshelves. She had read so many books in the past year.
“No Coke up here,” he muttered. “There might be some down in the pantry, but it’ll be warm. Sure you don’t want anything else?”
“I can drink it with ice.”
The refrigerator door closed. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” He was halfway across the room before he turned around and walked back. “I thought you might want your iPod. I brought it from downstairs.” He fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her.
As he left, she clenched her jaw and thought about the painting in her mother’s room. A white flower. Innocence. What would her mother think if she knew she had never tried to escape this prison? She would be hurt. Her father would be hurt. Brad would be hurt. Her entire life led to this moment, this decision. She squeezed her hands into fists as fear gripped her heart. It wasn’t fear for what she was about to attempt. It was fear at what she was, at the cowardice she had let consume her. It was selfish. It was wrong.
For the first time in her life she understood how ugly her weakness had become. She didn’t understand how Jesse could care for her, how any of them could.
She stood
and paced in front of the bookshelves and glanced at titles Jesse had given her to read. Her heart sank at the thought of him. If she managed to escape, would she ever see him again? Would she want to? She had a hard time imagining what her life would be like outside of these walls, what doors would open, how her mind might break free. She had shaken herself free of Brad; it was time to wake up. The article had made it clear she still had some sense left in her head. If she didn’t hold onto that and at least attempt to leave, she might never have the chance again. It was more about finally choosing something brave than anything else, and it made her sick inside to continue on as she was, the girl stuck in a box, the girl who wrote in her journal about everything except herself because she had never known who she was or what she really wanted.
Tears filled her eyes. It had to be now.
Stuffing her iPod into her sweatshirt pocket, she walked to the balcony doors. She saw her reflection in the glass, the girl she had become, and she wanted nothing more than to walk beyond that girl and finally grow up. Her hand shook as she turned the handle and stepped out into the frigid night.
XXVI
THE FIRST THING SHE SAW WHEN SHE hoisted herself onto the branch was a stone walkway on the other side of the fence. It looked like a fifteen-foot drop. She was insane. If she had stopped to think about how far it was to the ground she might never have stood from the armchair.
Now it was too late.
Wincing, she pushed her bare feet against the tree bark as she held tightly to the branch overhead. She took two more steps forward and inched her fingers across the branch. The bark was cold and icy in the chilled air. She glanced over her shoulder through the glass doors. He was still gone.
She took another step, her breath rising in thin, misty clouds around her face. There was no grass where she could land, only stone. Crap. She had to keep going. For once in her life, she had to do something brave. Eric wouldn’t catch her. No way in hell. She would jump and get to her feet and run so fast he would never see her.
One more step. She slipped. Gasping, she clutched tightly to the branch above and righted herself. A weight shifted in her sweatshirt pocket. Looking down, she saw her iPod slip out. She let go of the branch with one hand and caught the iPod in her trembling fingers.
“You idiot!” she hissed as she swayed. She had to get to the edge and jump. Eric would be back any second. The iPod was heavy in her hand. She stared at it and thought of Jesse. So much of his music was on it, but she couldn’t think of him. Not right now. If she did, she would turn around and settle right back into the armchair. She couldn’t think about any of them. She had to keep going. This was the only way to escape that reflection in the glass, the weakness she had let overtake her.
One, two, three steps.
She swayed and straightened as she pushed the iPod back into her sweatshirt pocket. One more step and she would be clear of the fence. She could jump. She could finally make a choice.
She shut her eyes and tried not to feel the cold air biting through her clothes. She was leaving Jesse forever. The police would make her tell them everything, but how could she? How could she hurt him? Any of them? Maybe that was weakness.
Shaking her head, she cursed. How could she do this? Which was the right choice?
It didn’t matter. She had to keep moving forward. One more step and it would be too late to change her mind. She felt ice beneath her feet just before she slipped one last time. Down, down, down. Screaming, she grabbed for anything solid and caught hold of the branch where she had been standing, her bare feet dangling in the air as she watched the iPod slip from her pocket once again and plunge to the ground. It shattered into pieces that skittered across the stone walkway. Pink plastic and metal, a cracked screen, headphones flailed out like a white snake.
Jesse had warned her not to try to escape. He knew what would happen. He knew she was weak.
Her fingers slipped. Tears stung her eyes. She tried to imagine her mother’s arms holding her close, pulling her tighter as her fingers finally lost their grip. Angry pain stabbed through her ankle. Twisting her body, the stones were cold through her pants and against her cheek. She had to sit up. She had to run!
She scrambled to her feet in a rush of adrenaline. With one last look at the broken iPod, she ran as best she could through the neighbor’s front yard and down the sidewalk. Her ankle felt like it might break and she gasped in pain. She pretended not to hear Eric’s footsteps behind her. She didn’t look back. Maybe one of the neighbors would answer their door, but most of the houses were dark. One looked like someone was awake. Past the stop sign. She had to get there.
He rushed up behind her near an empty intersection, right next to the stop sign, and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him. Silent words formed on his lips. Disappointment clouded his eyes.
Still pumped with adrenaline, she tried to yank free from his grip, but he wrenched her close to his body and kept her there as he forced her back to the house. A scream built up in her throat, but he clamped his hand over her mouth before it escaped.
In a calm voice he whispered, “As soon as we get back inside, I’m going to kill you.”
She wasn’t sure if he was serious, but he had to be. This was the last straw, the last time he would put up with her defiance. Still, she fought with herself to believe he would actually end her life after all the time she had spent with them. Evelyn loved her.
He dragged her inside and headed straight for his bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered the moment he shoved her in the room and let go of her arm. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I promise I’ll never—”
“Shut up!” He slammed a fist into her face so hard she almost fell over. Stumbling backward, she caught her balance and touched her cheek. It hurt worse than the first time he had hit her, only this time there was no blood. Not yet.
“Eric, I—”
“I told you to shut up!” He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her into a shelf. Books tumbled to the floor. He glared into her face and ground his teeth. A scream rose up her throat, but she swallowed it back down. He let her go. “You’ll stay right there while I get my gun or I’ll hit you a lot harder.”
Crying, she fell to her knees and wiped away hot tears. She had to stay calm. She knew he could be reasoned with. Maybe. He pulled a thin, black box from the top shelf of his closet.
“Damn lock,” he muttered, slamming the box onto a clean desk next to the bed. He fiddled with a combination on the front and glanced at her to make sure she was wasn’t moving.
She wasn’t. She bit her lip and gave him a hopeful expression. “Eric, I’m so sorry. It’s just that I saw my parents. I swear I wasn’t going tell anybody about you. I could never—”
“I told you to shut up!” His lips curled around his teeth. “I trusted you.” He fumbled with the lock. His hands were shaking. “I promised I’d kill you if you ever tried to get away. I’ll have to take you out to the garage where a mess won’t matter.” Opening the lock, he lifted the lid and picked up the gun. It was silver with a black grip—larger than she would have expected. Her heart dropped to her toes. He was really going to kill her.
She wouldn’t waste any more time.
Scrambling to her feet, she bolted out of the bedroom. She passed Jesse’s room and rounded the corner, heading straight for the front door. Her ankle buckled. Right behind her, Eric growled and shoved her to the floor. He grabbed a handful of her hair and smacked her head against the tile. Pain sliced behind her eyes. This was it. She had gone too far, pushed him over the edge. She gulped down a scream. Everything inside of her hurt. Her ankle throbbed.
“I didn’t think you were this stupid,” he growled, forcing her to look at him. “Why are you doing this? Why?”
She stared into his eyes, black and angry, and blinked away a fresh set of tears. She tried to think past the throbs of pain on the side of her head, but nothing came.
He tightened his grip. “Answer me!” It was almo
st a plea, his voice strained.
“You were going to kill me,” she whimpered. “Of course I’m going to run!”
“But you’ve never tried to get away. Not once. Why the hell would you do it now?”
What was he getting at? She couldn’t possibly explain how she was beginning to see herself as someone who could decide things on her own, how trying to escape was more about something inside of her than anything else. Could he understand that? It didn’t matter. She saw the impatience in his eyes and knew she had to say something fast.
“I thought you cared about me.” She tried to make it sound as pathetic as she possibly could. “You told me you do.”
His grip loosened. Silence gathered around them, nearly tangible as she focused on what she believed were tears in the corners of his eyes. He blinked them away and tightened his grip once again. She gasped.
“If you’re going to change your mind about us,” he said through gritted teeth, “then I don’t have a choice. I can’t allow you to do this again. I’ve risked too much, made too many promises—to myself and Steve, but mostly to Evie.” He leaned closer. “I have to be able to trust you.”
Her breaths came in spurts. She was on her side, twisted awkwardly to face him as he clutched her hair. Something in his expression spoke to her. He cared for her. She had seen it before, but never so raw. He was fighting it.
Her heart softened and slowed as she understood that he wouldn’t kill her if she made the decision to forget about her parents and stay—really made the decision to stay. He would know if she was lying.
He released his grip on her hair and carefully helped her sit up. She glanced at the untied laces of his tennis shoes. He must have put them on just before bolting out the front door to chase her down. She had forgotten what it felt like to wear shoes.
He peered into her eyes. “Can I trust you? You have no idea how badly I want to trust you. I did trust you, and Evie loves you. You’ve made her so happy. If I kill you, she’ll ... she’ll ....” He paused and cupped her face in his hands. They were steady. “Please tell me you won’t do this again. Promise me.”
The Breakaway Page 17