Today's Promises (Promises #2)(6)

“Don’t worry,” he replies, his jaw suddenly set firm. “That bitch will live out the rest of her days in a prison cell. Allison will be locked up for a long time too.”

Yeah, but for how long? I think as a wave of nausea hits me.

Allison was the reason we had to run on the night that turned out to be our final hours spent in foster care. And what rough hours they were. After Allison kicked the living shit out of me, I lost the baby I was carrying. That tiny snuffed-out life was my child, and Flynn’s.

One thing for certain—I will never forgive that bitch for taking away what was ours.

Overwhelmed, I twist so I can stare out the window and not think of anything. “I just need a minute,” I tell Flynn.

He says nothing. He just gives me my space. Good, he knows I need this quiet time. But my quiet time is short-lived when memories creep back to the forefront of my mind.

A light rain begins to fall and droplets, not unlike tears, bead on the glass.

I peer past the raindrops—tears—to the scenery passing by. Even those small glimpses, like images on hyperdrive, it’s still too much. Every damn thing we pass is a reminder of my past—like the way the cliffs on the side of the interstate look so similar to the precipice I plunged from that final, horrible night.

Memories of ice-cold water and the raging current wash over me, and I shudder in response.

One of my recurring nightmares is that I don’t make it out of the water. Instead of finding a way of working with the current, as I did, I am held under by unseen hands—Allison’s hands.

I know it’s her pushing me down because, as my lungs fill with icy water, all I hear is her laughing… and laughing… and laughing.

I blink, panicked that my view has turned watery.

But no, wait.

My eyes are filled with tears, not with the water from the river that exists so vividly in my head.

Way off in the background, like an echo, I hear Flynn, desperately pleading, “Jaynie… Jaynie…. Talk to me, babe. You’re shaking. Are you all right?”

I’m not all right, not at all. But I’m a little better when he pulls over to the side of the highway. There, it’s the whir of the cars flying by that returns me to reality.

Flynn unbuckles his seat belt, leans over, and wraps me in his arms. “Hey, hey,” he whispers in my hair.

Better, better. Flynn always makes me feel better.

“I’m sorry I mentioned her name, okay?”

“It’s not your fault,” I mutter. “I just… I just feel like I’m always living in fear. I can’t stop thinking that Allison will come and find me someday. So she can finish the job.”

“She’s in prison, Jaynie,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, but really, when you think about it, how much longer is she going to stay locked up?”

Flynn has no answer, and I sob harder against him.

My fear is not unfounded; that’s what is so frightening. Mrs. Lowry, Allison’s mother, is serving a long sentence, with little possibility for parole. She will most likely remain behind bars for her entire life, as she committed far more crimes than Allison, crimes with stiffer sentences. Mrs. Lowry did things like embezzle hundreds of thousands of dollars from innocent people. Allison, on the other hand, was found guilty of one crime only—fraud. She used to cash the state checks meant for her mom to use for our care.

What a joke.

Sadly—and because sometimes the world works in grossly unfair ways—neither Lowry woman was ever charged with any kind of crime related to the torment of the kids they fostered.

In the end, it came down to their word against ours.

It kills me, though, to think Allison’s fraud is classified as a non-violent felony. It is, but, still… How ironic, considering what all she did to me. Nonetheless, here we are, all these months later, facing the cold hard truth that Allison won’t remain in prison forever. Far from it, in fact. With prison overcrowding plaguing the local correctional facilities, Flynn and I know Allison has a high likelihood of being up for parole as early as sometime next year.

And that is far too soon for me.

Flynn is trying so hard to comfort me as I pour out all these thoughts. Still, I can’t stop a fresh new round of tears from starting up.

“Whatever happens, we’ll get through it,” he tells me, while he strokes my back and holds me gently. Kind of like I’m a fragile doll and may break at any time.

“I can be strong in so many ways,” I say, as if to reassure not only him, but myself.

“I know, babe.”

“It’s just…” I lean back and wipe my nose as I try to pull it together. “The hatred Allison has for me is so real and so heavy sometimes that when I let it truly sink in, like how I’m doing now, it just pulls at me. It ends up weighing me down, Flynn, and that cuts into my strength.”

“I know, Jaynie,” he says. “I completely understand.”

Thank God someone does.

I peer into his steady eyes—gray, like the sky today. “Hey, I’m sorry I lost it.”

“Don’t apologize, babe. We’ve talked about this thing with Allison maybe getting out a hundred times. Just know that when…and if…it happens, we’ll manage.”

I sigh. “I know. But seriously, Flynn, what the hell are we going to do if she really is released early?”