“I don’t want to see her get hurt,” he keeps going. “So if there is something, anything that might come to hurt her because she has a kind heart, I’d like to know so I can protect her.” He has a really awful way of warning a person and I start toward the door. I pause when he asks, “Is there something coming?”
I don’t answer him because I don’t know. I was fine until he started digging. I don’t know if he triggered anything. It might be time to run.
But I’m selfish and I don’t. I cling to Annie and this safe haven with both hands.
Damian~
Two weeks. That’s how long I’ve been calling in every damn favor owed to me.
We finally got a lead on Cara’s whereabouts. I was relieved when the name Karen Weston popped up. At least she’s using the new identity.
I’ve been driving without stopping to sleep. God only knows if she’s okay.
We got the lead from a police station in some town in the middle of bum-fucking-nowhere. I just hope it’s a small town, because searching from house to house for her is going to take forever.
Cara~
A month. I’ve been living with Annie for a month. Jason still eyes me warily every time he comes to visit Annie. He doesn’t trust me and I don’t trust him.
I started getting sick, especially around two in the afternoon. I don’t know why it’s called morning sickness if it comes at any damn time of the day.
Annie makes me drink peppermint tea with honey in the morning. It took some getting used to. During the day I chew on lemon flavored candy. It helps a lot and although the nausea is still there, at least I’m not puking anymore.
I’m waiting on the porch for Annie. I look down at my waist. My hand settles over my stomach that’s starting to swell, and for the zillionth time I wonder what I’m going to do. In six months I’ll be forced to push a child into this ugly world. I’ll be forced to give birth to a rapist’s child.
I always dreamt about getting married, having children, growing old with the man I love. Now it’s the furthest thing from my mind. There’s no use in dreaming about something I’ll never have. No man will want a filthy woman like me, or her rapist’s child.
My future looks bleak. I don’t know how I’m going to do this. What am I going to do with the child? I can’t abort it. I just can’t. It didn’t ask to be here. I could always look at adoption, but that will shine a spotlight on where I am.
What the hell am I going to do?
“No use in stressing over the future, Honey. Tomorrow will take care of its own problems. Right now we have to go work so we’ll have food for tonight,” Annie says as she walks by me.
I trail behind her, my thoughts refusing to leave the baby growing inside of me.
Annie stops and waits for me to catch up and then she tilts her head. “You’ve looked like death warmed up ever since that test showed that you’re pregnant. A child ain’t a curse, Honey.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I whisper.
“Now, how can you say that?” We start to walk again and Annie continues, “It’s a blessing to bring a human being into this world. You get to help shape the future.”
“You don’t understand, Annie,” I say, trying to hold back the anger and disgust that’s always lodged in my throat.
She stops and grabs my arm. “Then make me understand.”
I shake my head and pull my arm free. When we get to the patch of land we’re working, I go straight for the plough. It’s an old thing Annie’s husband made. It has two wheels, with a blade in the middle. You tip the handles up until the blade digs into the earth and then you push it like a trolley. It’s hard work, but it makes the time fly by.
An hour or so later sweat is pouring down my face. I use my shoulder to wipe some away when I feel an odd sensation tingling up my spine. I haven’t felt it in a long while. I used to get that feeling when Damian’s eyes were on me.
My head snaps up and I search the area around us, but there’s nothing. Am I losing my mind now? I glance around me once more before I carry on with the work that needs to be done today.
My mind is a dark cesspool of disturbing memories and suffocating feelings. It’s been three months since they found me. Three months, and it still feels like all that shit just happened to me. Some of the memories are starting to fade, like the beatings. I can’t remember the pain anymore. It’s that last night that haunts me.
“Honey,” Annie calls from the kitchen over Elvis hiccupping, You ain’t nothing bu-ut a houn-nd do-og.
The scratches are getting worse by the day and soon there will be more hiccups than words.
“Yes, Annie,” I pop my head out from my room, holding the towel around myself.
I always shower right after we come up from working the land. Then I put on one of the new dresses Annie made me. The ‘sunflower range’, she calls them. They still reach to under my knees and the colors are bright. She says it’s to make me shine. I just smile and wear them to please her.