Don't Look for Me(65)

You’re a smart girl, Molly. Not the prettiest girl, but smart. You need to use that to get ahead of the other girls who have their looks.

Maybe it served me well to hear those words. I studied hard and made a career for myself. And John always told me that’s what he loved most.

I remember now how my husband once loved me. I don’t know how, but it just happened and it was glorious. And now that glory is agony.

It would be easy to tell myself that he stopped loving me because the scale tipped too far to his side. That I got older and less attractive. That I stopped working, stopped being interesting. Up, up, up, my side of the scale drifted, losing the weight of these things.

But that would be a lie. There is no scale that can bear what I have done.

I feel my lips part, taking in air as the tears fall. I taste the salt on my tongue.

I hear the argument for the first time in years. The argument I lost then and will always lose.

No—I was not speeding around that corner. I had slowed down, of course I had, because the driveway was just around the curve.

No—there was nothing more I could have done. My eyes were on the road. My hands on the wheel. I wasn’t adjusting the radio, or using my phone, or reaching for my coffee.

No—I could not have slammed on those brakes any harder than I did! The forensic report confirmed all of this. The skid marks. The air bag. The turn of the wheel away from the object in the road. From the child. My child. My Annie.

Six more inches and I would have been clear. I would have slammed into the mailbox and the boxwoods and the flower bed. But the wheel turned only so far.

Six more inches.

People say things. Things beyond put one foot in front of the other. They pose questions and force you to answer. Would it be your fault if you gave up your seat on a plane and the plane went down? If you ducked from a gunshot and it hit someone else?

There is no logic to the guilt.

But you gave her life.

Yes, but then I killed her.

I killed her.

I killed her.

It never goes away. God, help me. It never leaves.

I’m sorry, John, for falling off the scale. For being unworthy of you.

I’m sorry Evan, for infusing you with anger. It seeps from my pores. I should have known it would reach you.

And Nicole—my fierce warrior. You had everything! You were beautiful and strong and brilliant. You were that glorious firstborn child who saw the world as a thing to behold, and a thing to be conquered. And now you live behind a sword and shield but the enemy still comes for you. To vanquish you. To kill you as well.

My chest rises and falls quickly now as I gasp for air. I cannot hide it any longer. The tears are now sobs as I lie here in my prison, unable to see a way out. I am forced to surrender. And it comes. It all comes, storming the unarmed gates.

Nicole.

I see your face as you stand in the driveway. I see your face staring at your sister as she lies in the road. I see your face when you realize what has happened.

I prayed that the warrior in you would conquer. I did not have the strength to carry you through the storm of our grief. And our guilt.

I will not sleep tonight. And without sleep, I will not have the strength to fight him. I will not have the mental agility to make a new plan.

The tears have stopped though I cannot stop the panic.

There is no evidence of an imminent fight. No need for an immediate plan.

And yet it is here. This panic.

I sit up then. Not caring about the camera, about Dolly. Not caring if I wake Alice. I sit up because I have to shift the blood that has pooled in my head and caused this chaos.

I let it all settle, recalibrate. I can’t make any sense of it. But it does not leave.

I allow my gut to weigh in, the feelings I have had these past fifteen days.

Mick was cheerful when he picked me up that night. He was almost giddy. His plan had worked. His stalking and scheduling. Using Alice to lure me into this house.

And then he was hopeful as I was kind to Alice and then returned to the house after going into the woods.

And then I tried to take that phone and he wrestled me to the floor, dragged me to that room. There was excitement in his eyes, from the physical violence. From the dominion he then had over my body, but also my emotions. He provoked terror and relief each time he walked down the hall to that dark room.

But Nicole had arrived and he had seen her in the town. She reminded him of his dead wife and the thought got in his head. Under his skin.

Still, he gave us some time. Me and Alice. But also me and him. He watched me changing. He watched me standing before him, and sitting with Alice. He slept in the bed with us. I know he tried to want me. But hope turned to frustration. I was not enough. I have not been enough.

And now, he is planning something. With his avoidance of me, but his leniency with the food. He makes accommodations to appease me and Alice.

I must accept the truth now. The kind of truth that is known from inside, without the need for objective evidence.

I see Alice squirm on the other side of the bars. Her little arms reach through them for my body. A little octopus. I lie back down and let her wrap them around me.

I feel it.

The truth.

The fight is coming.





30


Day fifteen





The day turned to night in a heartbeat, it seemed.

She and Reyes arrived at Laguna just after noon.