Chapter 35
Caitlyn
Terror has attached itself to every cell of my being.
I'm trembling, somehow both freezing and feeling like my skin is on fire.
I'm on the sofa, watching as Miles Lee paces back and forth.
I can't count the number of times I prayed I'd never see the man again. He has always been a little unstable. I was ordered to provide therapy for his two children after their mother committed suicide in their family home.
Understandably, the children were struggling in school, and there was concern that Miles was struggling as a widower to take care of them. Child Protective Services got involved and it was a whole ordeal. I had always wondered, as I guess many do, why the wife would choose to leave her family behind. Although I never witnessed any type of abuse, I voiced my concerns to the court when they would flinch at the slam of a door or tense up when the man came into the room .
He attached himself to me during the very first meeting I had with the kids, trying to use my time with the kids for himself, and was adamant that he didn't need therapy after I brought his actions to his attention. I didn't know if he was staying so close to keep the kids from confessing what might actually be going on in the home or if he had some sort of attachment to me because I was the first woman back in the home after his wife died.
His behaviors got more and more erratic, to the point I had to notify the court that I could no longer see the children because I didn't feel comfortable with being around him.
It was an easy break, or so I thought.
It never went as far as having to get a restraining order against him. He'd only shown up at the office I rent space in once, and he left immediately when I told him he needed to.I haven't seen or heard from him since that incident which occurred ten months ago. I've wondered about the family often but had no right to reach out to the courts or the new therapist for an update, so I don't know what they've been going through recently.
I haven't even considered that this man would've been the one slinking around my house. I have no idea how he got my address, but it's likely he followed me home from the office one day just like Wilson followed me from Catalyst. The idea that I'm so easily found makes my skin crawl. It makes me consider that I've been unsafe every single day of my life because I can't control what other people do and whether they seek me out without me knowing.
How many people have inserted themselves into my life without me knowing? The idea of anyone doing something like that is chilling.
"Miles," I whisper, drawing his attention.
He smiles in my direction, using the back of his hand that's holding the gun to rub at his forehead. He's flustered, and I have no doubt today is not going how he intended, although he has yet to voice what his expectations are.
"Caitlyn," he says. "I think we're in trouble."
"No," I tell him. "There's no trouble."
"There are three SUVs, a motorcycle, and a cop car outside."
I feel no relief knowing so many people are outside because I'm mere feet away from a man with a gun. He could do so many horrible things before they could stop him.
"Have you seen Kiva?" I ask, trying to divert his attention. "She normally greets me by the front door. You didn't hurt her, did you?"
His eyes widen as if I've accused him of something horrible.
"The dog? Caitlyn, no. I'd never hurt your dog. She got out when I came into the house. She wouldn't come back when I called for her."
I give him a nod. It's better news than I thought he was going to give me.
It still doesn't bode well for my old gal though. It's freezing outside.
"H-how long have you been waiting for me?"
"I came through the woods," he says, pointing toward the back of the house with the gun. "Right as you were leaving this morning."
"She's been out there for hours?" I say, unable to keep the sob from escaping my lips.
"I didn't hurt her, Caitlyn. I promise. I didn't even mean to hurt them."
His eyes are frantic as he begins to pace again.
Hurt them.
Terror triples inside of me .
His children. He has to be talking about his kids. If he's capable of killing his own children, then I have no doubt he has it in him to hurt me. My mind also considers how crazy it is that he swears he wouldn't hurt my dog, but he has hurt children.
Feverish tears streak down my cheeks as I shake my head, trying to reject the idea. I have to be mistaken. Please let me be wrong.
"Can we open the back door a crack in case she comes back?"
"We can't," he says, shaking his head maniacally, the gun waving around in front of him with his finger on the trigger. "They'll get inside."
I know just how easily a gun can be discharged when your finger's on the trigger when you're not prepared to shoot. It happened to me twice the other day when I was training with Zeus. I can't help but dip and sway when it points in my direction in an effort to avoid getting shot in case it does fire.
"They're out front," I remind him. "Check again for me."
I watch as he pulls back the curtain on the front window, thinking maybe one of them needs a chance to shoot him, but he lets the curtain fall back into place without incident.
"I think they're here to kill me," he says, his eyes darting all around the room as if there might be something in my small home that he could use to prevent that from happening.
"They aren't," I say. "No one is here to hurt you. They just want to know why you're here today. Are you struggling? Let's talk about it."
He shakes his head, but instead of refusing to speak, he takes a seat right beside me, so close that our thighs touch. I flinch when he reaches out to touch the side of my face.
"You're scared of me."
"I'm not," I assure him. "The gun is making me very nervous, though. Can you set it down while we talk?"
I genuinely think this man is in crisis. Although I do have some training on how to handle such crisis situations, my education was geared more toward children who lack the ability to tell exactly how they feel because they don't have a full understanding of how emotions work. With him being grown, I don't know if that will make this easier or more difficult.
He places the gun in his lap, but the angle on it is too weird for me to easily grab, and I just can't stomach the idea of shooting this man. No matter how many times I pulled the trigger in the little gun range back at the Cerberus cabin, the idea of shooting someone makes me want to wretch.
"Thank you, Miles," I say, giving him the best smile I can manage.
I swipe at the tears on my cheeks, but they're replaced just as quickly by fresh ones.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he says, reaching out to touch me again but pulling his hand back at the last moment as if he remembers the one time I told him all those months ago that touching people without permission isn't okay.
"I'm just worried about you and the kids."
"I'm not here to talk about the kids," he says, his agitation spiking again. "I want a fresh start."
"I understand how scary that can be," I cajole. "How are things at work?"
His eyes narrow, and it seems he has had trouble there as well.
My mind races to think of an area of his life that would not be causing him so much irritation, but my focus was on the kids when I was working with the family, despite how often he tried to interject into those conversations .
"Tough break on the Chiefs losing the Superbowl this year," I hedge, but his scowl deepens. I opt for a different approach. "What kind of changes are you looking to make in your life, Miles?"
"A new job in a new city," he says, his eyes a little distant as if he's trying to picture exactly what that would look like. "How do you feel about something on the West Coast? Sunshine almost year-round and the threat of snow almost impossible."
I do my best to maintain my smile as he just confirms what I was suspecting. The man's obsession has led him here because he wants us to be together.
"I've never been out west," I say, hoping the men outside are coming up with some sort of plan to get this man out of my house and into an institution where he can be evaluated and given proper treatment. "Are you thinking the Bay Area or maybe something a little further north?"
He shrugs. "It depends on what you'd like."
"I don't think I could leave Gatlinburg without Kiva. I'd be too heartbroken and devastated if something bad happened to her outside in the cold."
He pulls in a deep breath before grabbing the gun off his lap and standing. He's only a few feet from the back door when the front door busts open, hitting the wall behind it so hard the doorknob sticks in the drywall.
A man in full combat gear stands there with a massive-looking rifle pointed right at Miles.
"Please don't!" I yell.
The man is in crisis, but that doesn't mean he deserves to die.
Miles looks between the two of us, gun trembling in his hand as if he never considered something like this could happen.
I watch as sadness and resolve cover his face .
"We were always meant to be together," he says to me, ignoring the man with the rifle pointed at him. "I'll love you forever."
I watch in horror as Miles Lee lifts the gun, puts it to his temple, and pulls the trigger.