The thought sends butterflies fluttering into my tummy.
You know, I heard a saying once that said, Love is like a river, never ending as it flows but gets greater with time.
That’s my love with my River right there.
And it’s only just begun.
On bare feet, I walk down the hall, heading to the living room to wait for River, humming away to myself.
And then I’m smiling when I realize that the tune I’m humming is the song that River and I danced to tonight. Right before we made love.
I’m still smiling when I walk into the living room.
The smile freezes on my face at the sight of the person standing in my living room, my heart stilling in my chest.
My visitor doesn’t smile. Not that he ever did.
His head tips to the side a fraction. Cold eyes fixed on mine. He parts his lips, and in the voice that still fills my nightmares now, he says, “Hello, Annie.”
Carrie
“N-Neil,” I feel like I’m choking his name out. My vocal cords strangled by the realization that he’s here.
Here in my house.
How is he here?
“H-how d-did you f-find me?” I’m stammering. I can’t help it. My body is trembling so hard; I’m rattling from the inside out.
It only gets worse when I see the gun in his hand held at his side.
Hope.
It’s my only thought.
Please don’t make a sound, baby.
I need him to not know that she’s here.
He lifts the gun and rubs the barrel against the side of his head, up into his blond hair, which was always cropped short but has now grown out. It looks messy and unclean. As the rest of him does. Blond whiskers cover the lower part of his face. His clothes are unclean and crumpled.
This is a man who would beat me for failing to iron out a single crease in his work shirt. And, now, he is wearing a shirt that hasn’t seen the inside of a washing machine for a long time.
Even in this terrifying moment, the irony is not lost on me.
“It wasn’t easy.” His voice is like needles piercing my skin. Every syllable agony to listen to. “I’ve been looking for you since the day you left. I’ve been looking all over the country in fact. Smart move, coming to Texas, Annie. I really wouldn’t have thought to look for you here, knowing how you hate the heat. You’re brighter than I ever gave you credit for. But then I got lucky and happened to stumble across a news article online about a woman giving birth to a baby in her car on the side of the road. With a picture of the woman accompanying the article. And who was that woman, Annie?”
Me.
He knows about Hope.
I feel fear like I’ve never known before.
I swallow down gravel.
“Me,” I whisper.
He laughs a deeply scary sound. “You could change your hair to every color under the sun, Annie, even change your face, and I would still know it’s you. And you know why? Because you are mine, Annie.”
River. Where are you? I silently call.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stammer.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” he mimics. “You’re always fucking sorry, Annie!”
He starts to pace in front of the door, blocking that exit. Not that I can leave without Hope.
I think about if I could make a run for it down the hall to Hope’s room and get her from her crib and climb out of the window.
But there’s no lock on the door. I wouldn’t make it in time.
He stops pacing. “Is the baby mine, Annie?”
I don’t know how to answer. If I tell him the truth—that, yes, Hope is his child—he will take her from me. And he will hurt her.
If I tell him no … he might still hurt her.
But he’ll hurt me first if he thinks she’s not his.
He’ll need to punish me. It’s his way. And that will give me time … time for River to get here.
“Answer me!” he barks.
And I snap to attention, like a well-trained dog.
“No.” I swallow the lie, holding his stare. I need him to believe me. “The baby’s not yours.”
Nothing changes in his expression. I expected rage and fury. But there’s just nothing but emptiness and blankness in those cold eyes of his.
And that terrifies me more than any anger he could direct at me.
He starts tapping the barrel against his temple. “You left me, Annie, to have a baby with someone else?”
“Yes,” I say quietly.
He starts shaking his head, chanting, “No. No. No! It wasn’t meant to be that way! You’re mine! You have always been mine! We were meant to spend our lives together! It was my baby that you were supposed to have!” Spit is flying from his mouth. His eyes bulging. He looks manic. Like a rabid dog.
He lifts the gun, aiming it at me.
My heart stops.
“Neil … please … don’t.”
“Oh, you’re pleading now? You want my forgiveness, Annie? You want me to forgive you for being a dirty whore and having a bastard child with some other man!”
The word is hard to say. I have to force it out. “Y-yes.” But I need to do anything to keep him calm right now.
I just need a little more time before River gets here.
“Too late, Annie.” He cocks the gun.
“No! Please!” I cry, defensively holding my hands. “Don’t do this! I-I’ll come home with you. Right now. I’ll make this all better.”
“And the baby?”
I swallow down the disgusting lie I’m about to say. “I’ll leave her with her dad. I’ll leave and come home with you.”
He’s staring at me. My heart is pounding hard in my chest. My pulse roaring in my ears.
Then, he shakes his head, and my heart drops.
“It’s too late. You’re tainted now, in this body.” The gun pointed right at me, he moves it up and down. “You soiled it when you fucked another man and bore his child.”
“Neil … please … I’ll make it better, and we can be together.”
A smile that looks almost sad comes onto his lips. “And we will, Annie. Just not in this life.”
I hear a click and loud popping sound. And then a sensation hits me, like I’ve just been punched in the chest.
No.
God, no.
I look down at my body and see a hole in my shirt. And blood.
There’s blood seeping out of the hole.
He shot me.
Stunned, I stagger backward. Reaching out, I grab hold of the sofa, but I can’t stay up. My legs give out on me. I slide down the sofa, slumping to the floor.
River, help me. Please.
Neil walks over to me. He lowers to his knees beside me. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Annie. But you’ve left me no choice. But this is good, you see. We can be together in death. We’ll both be reborn in heaven. You’ll be clean again.”
I blink up at him. I can’t breathe. It feels like water is filling my lungs. Like I’m drowning.
Neil lifts the gun to his head. He smiles at me. “See you on the other side, Annie.” Then, he pulls the trigger.
His body drops beside me.
The only thing I feel at the sight of him dead is relief.
Relief that he can’t hurt Hope.
Help, I try to yell, but only a gargled noise comes out.
Hope is crying.
Mama’s here, baby. I’m right here.
“Carrie! Oh God, no! No! No! No!”
River. He’s here.
He’s dragging Neil away from me. He’s at my side, lifting me into his lap.
“Carrie, baby, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m gonna call an ambulance. Just hold on, baby. I love you, Carrie. I love you so fucking much. Don’t leave me. Please.”
He’s crying. It hurts me to see it.
Please don’t cry, River.
His cell is against his ear. He’s calling emergency services.
Hope, I try to tell him. Go to Hope. But the words won’t work.
My lungs are burning. I’m choking to death.
I’m dying.
I know I’m dying.
I love you, I tell him with my eyes. And Hope. So, so much. Take care of her for me. Tell her every day that I love her.
I try to gasp in one more breath. To give me one more second with him.
And then—
River
One Year Later
“Come on, Hope.” I pick her up out of her high chair after cleaning off her sticky porridge-covered fingers.
Hope likes to feed herself at breakfast time and also lunch and dinnertime, and by feed herself, I mean, get the food everywhere except for her mouth.
“Time to go visit Mama.”
I strap her into her stroller, hanging her bag of everything I’ll need to keep an active fourteen-month-old clean, watered, fed, and entertained. I swear, going out for a few hours with a toddler is like packing for a vacation.
I step outside.
The sky is clear of clouds. The sun is shining. It’s a nice day for a walk.
We head into town, stopping by the florist to pick up a bunch of flowers that I ordered earlier over the phone.
I put them in the basket below the stroller and start walking again.
Hope is playing with the hanging toys on the stroller arch, jabbering away to herself in a language only she knows.
Her first word was Dada. And she’s right; I am her daddy. In every sense of the word that matters.
We reach the entrance to the cemetery.
I push the stroller in, walking past all the rows of headstones.
Until I reach the one that belongs to me.
I park Hope’s stroller, unclip the straps, and lift her out. She wriggles to be put down. She’s independent. She got it from her mama.
I put her down onto the grass.
She immediately plops down on her butt and pulls her shoes and socks off. She clambers to her feet. The sock goes in her mouth. And she begins toddling around the grass.
I watch her, smiling.
I get the bunch of flowers that we picked up from the basket under Hope’s stroller.
I walk over to the headstone. Brushing some dirt and leaves off it.
I lower down to my knees, sitting before her. “Happy birthday,” I tell her. “I got you some flowers—bluebells. I know you loved them.”
I put the tied bunch down in front of the headstone.
The one that I picked out for her.
I stare at her name engraved deep into that stone.
“I miss you,” I tell her. “I will always miss you. But … I have so much now because of you.” I look over at Hope, who has found a patch of daisies beside a nearby headstone and is currently chattering away to them. I smile and then look back at her headstone. “I … love you.”
I swallow back the tears clogging my throat.
A hand touches my shoulder.
I turn my head, looking up at the one person who makes things so much more bearable.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Red.” I smile.
“You okay?” she asks, sitting down beside me.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Just talking to Mama.”
“Happy birthday, Mary,” Carrie says.
I reach out and take hold of her hand, squeezing it.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” she says to me. “Old Mrs. Parker caught me on my way out of the diner. She was asking how Hope’s doing. Wanted to see recent pictures of her. It took a while.”
I chuckle at the thought.
But I can’t blame Mrs. Parker. Because Hope is awesome.
I think she’s stolen the heart of nearly everyone in this town.
Of course, there are a few who will always keep their distance because of me.
But the majority love her.
It’s hard not to love her. She’s sweet and adorable.
I love her and her mom in a way I never thought possible.
They are both my whole world.
And, because of the sacrifice my mama made for me, I get to be here with them now, being Hope’s daddy and living the amazing, wonderful life that we have together.
“Mada!” Hope cries happily when she spots her mom. She comes waddling over to Carrie, who pulls her into her arms and kisses her head.
“Hey, baby girl. Mama missed you!”
I chuckle at the highlighting of the word mama. Carrie is still pissed that Dada was Hope’s first word. And, of course, I wind Carrie up over the fact that Hope calls her Mada.
Some things never change with Red and me. And I pray to God, they never do.
After coming so close to losing her that day when that sick fuck of her ex shot her … seeing her die right there in my arms … it was the single worst moment in my entire life.
It felt like my life was over.
Watching the paramedics fight to revive her right in front of me …
Even now, just thinking about it almost breaks me.
But my girl is a fighter. And, when they got her heart beating again, putting a tube in her chest, draining the blood flooding her lungs, I got down on my knees and thanked God.
But the nightmare wasn’t over.
Carrie was put on a stretcher and transported to the hospital.
I followed in the car with Hope. Calling Sadie on my way. She met me at the hospital along with Guy.
The police were at the hospital, wanting a statement, but all I could think of was Carrie.
She was taken to the operating room.
She flatlined on the table.
She died twice on that horrific fucking night.
If her ex-husband hadn’t killed himself, I would have murdered him with my bare hands.
Those doctors got her heart started again and got that bullet out, which was lodged in her left lung. It had missed her heart by millimeters.
When she came out of surgery, her doctor told me that they’d put her in an induced coma to help give her time to heal. Her breathing was assisted.
There were fears that she would never wake up. That she wouldn’t be able to breathe alone. That there would be irreparable damage.
It was the longest week of my life. I’d never felt so helpless.
But the strangest thing happened. People from the town started showing up at the hospital, offering support to me. Bringing food. Helping with Hope. Some even just came to sit with Carrie and me while I waited for her to open her beautiful eyes.
It changed how I saw everything.
How I saw people. Especially the people of this town.
After seven long days, Carrie woke up.
I’d never felt such relief.
Then, she started breathing unassisted, and from there on, she made a full and complete recovery.
She’s a goddamn fighter, my girl.
When Carrie got out of the hospital, she and Hope moved in with me. They’re still with me.
My house became our home.
It was hard on Carrie though, having to see her old house and remembering what had happened there every time she left our home.
So, I contacted the owner of the house, who was only happy to sell it to me. The day that house became mine, I had it demolished. I flattened that fucking place to the ground.
I had money just sitting in the bank from my inheritance from my gran. She hadn’t just left me the old house. She’d left me a truckload of money. Gran never was a big spender, so her money from her art had accumulated over the years. I never had anything to spend it on. Spending some on buying that house and bulldozing it to the ground was the best use of it. I knew Gran would have approved.
And, truthfully, I didn’t just do it for Carrie.
I did it for me, too.
That house was the place where Carrie had died. In my fucking arms.
I didn’t need a reminder of that every day.
I just thank God every single day that she came back to m
e.
We could have moved. Sold Gran’s house.
It probably would have been the easier option.
I did suggest it to Carrie even though it would have been hard for me to move. Gran’s house had been my safe place since the day I came to live there.
But I would have left for her.
I would do anything for Carrie.
But she said no. She wanted us to stay. She was adamant.
I knew she partly did it for me, aware that it would be hard for me to leave my house.
But I also knew that she was trying to stop that motherfucker from taking anything else away from her than he already had.
Carrie still has problems sometimes with her lungs. It hurts her on cold days, and her breaths falter a little. But, thankfully, we don’t have many cold days in Texas.
She’s struggled with nightmares and flashbacks from what happened that night.
They’re happening less often these days, but the bad memories are still there, affecting her. As are the scars he left on her chest. If I could take it all away, I would. But I can’t. All I can do is love her and protect her and make sure nothing bad ever happens to her again.
It fucking kills me that I wasn’t there when she needed me most.
I have a lot of if onlys from that night. I have tortured myself with thoughts of what I should have done.
But I know that having Carrie with me, alive and healthy, is the only thing that matters now.
And, knowing that, I knew I had to let go of my past, too, once and for all.
So, the day she woke from the coma, I closed the door on it.
I didn’t want to be a victim any more.
I wanted to be a survivor.
And, to do that, I needed to heal. I had to crush the demons that I allowed to still haunt me.
I don’t enforce anymore. To move forward, I needed to stop doing that.
I didn’t realize at the time that it was hurting me more than helping me.
I had to pull back for my mental well-being. And for my family.
I need to be healthy for the sake of Carrie and Hope.
And there will always be men and women out there willing to help in the way that I did.
That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped helping with The Avengers of Injustice. I do, but I’m more in the background. I help with the paperwork side of things. Marcus and I have developed a website with a detailed listing of sex offenders around the country, even right down to the “minor” sex offenders, showing their mug shots, listing their locations and offenses. You can search by zip code, making it easier to know when there is a sex offender in your area.
River Wild Page 22