Take Me With You(89)

You said you wanted to know, Vesper. Now you do.

I read the note, sometimes reading the same line over and over, the information overload making it hard to process this story of isolation and rage.

I look up at Sam, and though nothing physically has changed, I see him differently. I am angry at him, and I am sad for him.

“Why did you come to my house? I know you were watching me, but why me? You didn't take the others.”

He sighs, again writing down his answer.

Because I saw you with Johnny. And it made me remember what it was like to have someone who took care of me like that. The person I loved and hated most in this world. But even she wasn't you. You were perfect. You were the person I wish I had had. You were the person I dreamed of.

“But you took me away from him. You understand? You hurt the little boy you saw as yourself.”

I didn't plan to take you. I had never been so careless. But you make me act out of character. You make me a fool.

“What's your brother going to do?”

He gave me a choice. He said he would forget what he saw if we left town.

I chuckle to myself. “I was going to propose that myself,” I say, realizing how ridiculous I sound as I say it aloud. Giving my kidnapper ideas on how to never be found again.

He scrunches his brow.

“Well, it's just that, if we were going to try being…normal, we'd have to start fresh. But I don't know, Sam. I honestly don't know with you. You have to understand what's happening to me. I feel like an idiot for saying this…but, I don't think you're all bad. I know what you've done. I know the pain you've caused, but I do see that boy. I see that inside of you there is still a gentle person…” I begin to sob, the knotted cluster of emotions tugging at what's left of my soul. “But how do I forgive myself for falling for you?”

He watches me cry in silence, his brow furrowed with concern and confusion.

Finally, he scribbles something on his notepad.

The only person you ever have to hate is me.

But I can't. I can get angry. I can become disgusted at times, but I can't hate him.

“You said the secrets make you stutter. But now there aren't any. I know it all. And I'm not running. I'll run away with you. I don't care what you sound like anyway. You should have known better than to think I would. And when things are clear, when my face is completely forgotten, we can get Johnny. You have to understand he needs me. He’s the only part of my old life I can’t let go of.”

I wait for Sam’s response. I know it’s a huge gamble, asking him to help me kidnap Johnny someday. I know how crazy it all sounds. But I also know things are different now. I am different. So is he. And what once sounded insane, now seems like the natural progression of things. We were preparing to have a family. This can be that family. Sam looks away, the intersecting thoughts in his mind visible in his distant stare. Eventually, he nods pensively.

I sigh with relief, but deep inside I know I can’t steal Johnny. I may find a way to see him again, from a distance or in secret, but I can’t bring him into the madness. My asking was a way for me to come to terms to that. I can tell myself it wasn’t my idea to leave him behind. Otherwise, it’s not possible to reconcile my love for Johnny and this choice.

Silence falls upon the room. I think of the letter, about the invisible hand he speaks of wrapping around his throat and I grow frustrated. “You picked me because you saw me with Johnny, because I don't see people that way. I might know and accept more about you than anyone else. So why?” I take the wrinkled paper and wave it between us. “Why are you still writing me notes instead of just talking to me?”

He writes a small note on the pad, tears it off and hands it to me as he stands up, turning his back to leave the room.

Because you make my heart race, Vesp.





Sam flings the last of his bags into the truck.

“What about the animals?” I ask.

Sam nods and jogs to the barn. I follow closely as he opens the door and leads them out. He swats Beverly on her hind until she runs away. The goats take a few steps but linger nearby.

“Will they be okay?” I ask as we head back to the truck.

They’re free now. They have everything they need here.

Sam points to the floor of the truck.

I look at him quizzically and he huffs before pulling out the notepad again.

You need to lie down until we are well out of town. People will recognize you.

“You know, you wouldn't have to write it down if you just spoke,” I snipe.

He shoots me a stern look out of the corner of his eye before walking over to the driver's side. I freeze anxiously. I've never done anything like this. I feel like a criminal.

Sam stops short when he senses my hesitation. He takes a breath and walks over to me. I stiffen, wondering if the stress of recent events has shortened his patience. But he palms my face in his hands and locks his eyes on mine, tilting his forehead down to mine. He locks his gaze on me, so that all I see are those eyes. For so long, it was all I knew of him. It was my greatest source of terror and uncertainty. But now, I'd follow those eyes into hell. Hell is my home now.

I gulp. “Okay,” I whisper. His hands travel down from my cheeks, to my shoulders, and then my hands. In an uncommon gesture of affection, he squeezes my palms. For a second I swear a see a glimpse of regret in his usually unwavering gaze.