“What did he do?”
I put my hand to my throat as if I could still find the bruises he put there. I wanted to dig my thumb into one of those black wounds and remind myself of the pain. “He strangled me until I passed out on the kitchen floor. And he left me there. Went to bed. Just…like I was nothing. Like he could do anything to me and it didn’t matter. And I sat on that floor and had to convince myself that it wasn’t true. That I did matter.”
It took hours. Days to build up that courage. To believe I mattered. That’s how far he had pushed me down.
Dylan stood up and paced away from me, hands locked on his head. I watched his agitation as if from a long ways away. I felt increasingly numb to the whole thing. To all of it.
“I waited a few days and then ran.”
He turned, his jaw clenched so hard I worried he was making gravel out of his teeth.
“What about divorce?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s your land, Annie!”
“What’s the good of it if I’m dead?” I cried.
“I have lawyers, Annie. Good ones. Ones that can keep you safe and get you free and make sure he crawls away with nothing. Goes to jail and never comes out.”
“I don’t have money for that, Dylan.”
He stared at me, his eyes so sad. “Do you think I wouldn’t give you that money? Do you think I could let you just walk away after you’ve told me this?”
I blinked. “Yes,” I said.
“What kind of man do you think I am?”
I shook my head and turned in the chair, toward the bedroom as if to go grab more of my things. But I didn’t have anything. Nothing. Not even three thousand dollars of stolen money and a box of hair dye.
“I think you should take me home.”
“Listen to me, Annie,” he said, stepping close, but not too close as if the boundaries between us had been rearranged. “Do you really want to go back to that shitty trailer park and hide for the rest of your life?”
I wished I could say I wasn’t going to do that. But I had no other plan. I was…hell, I was just like Ben, hiding and waiting for something better to come along.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“How?”
“We can talk to the lawyers today, Annie. And…I want you to stay in my house in Charleston. It’s safer, Annie. It’s so much safer.”
“No.” I shook my head, denying him, denying myself, because I should have done that a long time ago. The first time I picked up the phone. Every single time afterward. At the very least when Margaret had put me in the blue room, I should have stayed there. So much would be different if I hadn’t been so curious and selfish. If I’d left Layla out of it and just stayed Annie McKay.
“Baby, listen. You got this far, on your own and with nothing. There’s no shame in taking help now.”
“I don’t want you to get any more mixed up in this. I feel so bad for lying to you.”
“Don’t, Annie. Don’t feel bad. Just take my help.”
He kept talking, something about restraining orders, and to my great shame, my horrified disbelief, I wanted to nod and say thank you and yes, please, help me. Take care of these things for me, because I don’t understand them and I’m scared. And I feel so damn small in the face of all I need to do.
It was exactly, exactly how I felt when Mom died and Hoyt walked into the office, looked at the computer, and told me he knew how to do payroll. And he could help.
I stood up from the chair so fast it screeched over the hardwood floor. I wished I could say no to all of his help. That I had the resources to do this on my own, but I didn’t. But just because I needed help didn’t mean that I needed to pull him in any deeper. I had to have a fence around his help. For my sake.
For his. I could not rely on him for any more than those things that I could not do without.
“I wish I could say I don’t need your help…but I do. Clearly, I don’t even know where to start. And your lawyers would be a big help. I’ll pay you back.”