Protecting Her(117)

Celia offered me a job at her restaurant about a month ago, so that’s where I work. I don’t think she really needed the help. I think she just wanted to get me out of my apartment. She knew I spent all day in there, alone and depressed. It’s good she gave me the job. I only work five or six hours a day but it’s something to do. Something to keep me busy.

Every day, I get up early and make bread. Then I come in later to help serve dinner. The job doesn’t pay much, but it’s all Celia can afford. Jack gave me some money, but not enough to live off of for more than a year. So in a few months, if I’m still here, I’ll eventually need to get another job.

I’m on my break now and having coffee at one of the small tables by the window. I like sitting here and watching people stroll by, going to the little shops, getting what they need for the day. Life here moves at a much slower pace than in the US. People aren’t in a hurry. They aren’t constantly rushing everywhere.

The bells on the front door rattle and I quickly look up to see who’s coming inside. It’s the old man who owns the fish market down the street. He comes in every day to get coffee.

Every time those bells ring, I always look up, hoping I’ll see Pearce come walking through the door. But he never does. I also look up because I worry that someone will show up here to kill me. I’ve even had nightmares about it. It’s always the same dream. A man in a suit walks up to me, says nothing, and shoots me. I wake up sweating and out of breath.

When Jack told me people were plotting to kill me, I didn’t believe it. Sometimes I still don’t. But I saw the video. I saw the plane burning up in the field. I saw the order to kill me. So I know it’s true. I’d be dead if Jack hadn’t stopped me from getting on that plane.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what Jack said. About how this secret organization exists. A group with so much power that they’re able to control things. Big things. Like who will be president. I kept telling myself it wasn’t true. That there was no way such a group could exist. But the more I thought about it, the more I believed it.

When we were first together, Pearce told me he felt like he was living a double life. I thought he was referring to how his life with me was so different than his life with his rich friends. Now I know that’s not what he meant. When he said that, he was referring to his life in this secret group. He was trying to tell me the truth. He knew he couldn’t, but he was trying to hint at it.

I believe Jack when he said Pearce wanted to tell me. I know he would have if he were able to. Maybe he wouldn’t tell me everything, but he’d at least tell me this group exists and that he’s involved in it. But I think he would’ve hidden what they do. He wouldn’t want me knowing that he’s hurt people. Had people killed.

I’ve been trying not to think about that, because when I do, it makes me feel like I never really knew Pearce. I was living with a murderer and I had no idea. But as soon as I think that, I tell myself that it wasn’t him. Jack said Pearce was forced to do those assignments and that the Pearce I knew was not the man who did those horrible things. I want to believe that, and I’m trying to convince myself that it’s true. The Pearce I know is kind and caring and gentle and loving. He doesn’t want to hurt people, even people he doesn’t know. The only way he’d do something like that is if they threatened him. Or threatened to hurt me. Or Garret.

I should be angry with Pearce for getting me involved in this, knowing what could happen. But instead of feeling anger, I feel sadness. For Pearce. He’s had a horrible life. A horrible childhood. And then he was forced to join this group. He didn’t know love until I came into his life. So when I did, he didn’t want to let me go.

Some would say that was selfish. That he should’ve let me go, knowing he couldn’t be with me. Part of me agrees with that, but the other part of me doesn’t. Because I kind of understand where he’s coming from. It’s like me, wanting a child. I knew the risks. I knew if I got pregnant, something bad could happen to me, or the baby. And yet I still did it, because I wanted that baby so bad. Pearce wanted love even more than that. He wanted someone to love, and someone to love him back. Is that really so wrong? To want to be loved?

I’ve been trying to think of what I would’ve done if I were him. If I’d never been loved, and someone offered it to me, would I turn him away? Knowing I loved him back the same way? I don’t know that I could.

And if someone threatened to hurt my family if I didn’t do what they said, would I do it? Even if it meant harming someone else? I’d like to say I wouldn’t, but the truth is, I probably would.