1. Charli
1
CHARLI
Six Years Later
I stare at myself in the mirror, soft light filtering through the window beside me. The bright sunshine outside, the sound of birds singing, the distant music played by the string quartet waiting for me downstairs…it’s perfect.
Or it would be. If it wasn’t for the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
I smooth my hands shakily along the wedding dress; it’s beautiful, even if it’s not the one I would have chosen for myself. No, James made sure to insist that I choose a dress that covers my arms and my chest, making sure nobody else will be able to see an inch of skin outside of my face—and even that is covered by a heavy veil. I’m in there, somewhere, but it’s hard to make out any part of me.
Exactly why he likes me this way.
Another stab of anxiety thrusts into my stomach, and I try to contain it. Because what am I meant to do about this now, really? It’s my wedding day. My wedding day. It’s not like I can just go to James and tell him that, actually, I’ve been having some second thoughts and I’d like to rethink this whole thing. Could we just postpone it for a day or two, while I figure out how I’m really feeling…?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine. I know exactly how he would react to that, exactly how he would fly into a rage and scream in my face—how he would count out every cent that he and his family have paid for this occasion, tell me that I’m the only family he has and I should be grateful for him, that this is so typical of me, to be so ungrateful when this was all about me in the first place…
Dark spots start to play at the corners of my eyes as the thought crosses my mind. Shit, has he really gotten under my skin so much that even thinking about him blowing up at me scares me? I guess so.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m facing a lifetime with this guy that has me so terrified. As soon as I step out of this room—this lavish, beautiful hotel room where my makeup artist and hairstylist have just left me—I’ll be on the path to putting his ring on my finger and becoming his wife.
His wife. His fucking wife. How the hell did I get here? Sometimes, it doesn’t seem possible, the mess that has unfolded in the last few years since we met—since I met him at a function I was waitressing at, and he homed in on me, insisting on paying my wages for the rest of the night so he could spend it with me. At the time, I was flattered, but looking back now, I can see what a red flag that was—even then, he thought he had some claim over me. He figured out early on that throwing money at me would get me to give him what he wanted, and what have I done but proved him right since then?
And, given who his father is, it’s not as though I could just slip out of the relationship like that. No, because I started to become a regular feature at his father’s fundraisers, and turning up in the press on James’s arm was enough to secure my place there. At first, I thought he was just careful because of how much was on the line for him and his dad, but now…now, looking back, I can see that it was just an excuse to take as much control as he could from me, and to make me pay for believing for a second that I deserved anything else.
And now, we’re engaged. I can hardly remember the night it happened. I was drunk, I know that much. I can recall him telling me, over some fancy dinner, that he knew he hadn’t been the partner he wanted to be, but that he wasn’t willing to give up the connection we had, and then he popped open the ring box, and I stared down at it, and I…
I saw my future in there. A future with him. A future with a family I wasn’t going to lose, the way I’d lost my parents. And that, combined with the promises he was spinning for me, had been enough to convince me to accept the offer.
And the rush that came afterward hardly gave me a chance to think about what I had agreed to. James seemed to know that getting that ring on my finger once and for all was all that mattered, and he did everything in his power to rush this all ahead. And now, here I am, standing in the last room I’ll ever stand in as a single woman…
Knowing that what lies on the other side of this marriage for me is far from a lifetime of joy and happiness.
My eyes slide over to the window, which looks out over the perfectly manicured lawn of the garden beyond. This place is gorgeous, honestly—it’s even better in person than it was in the pictures he showed me. Downstairs, there are a few hundred guests, many of them press, ready to snap some pictures for the lifestyle pages of the Sunday supplement. I will be there, in my dress, my husband at my side, clutching flowers and beaming from behind the perfect painted face they’ve drawn on me.
Anyone who looks at those pictures will think I’m happy. Why wouldn’t they? They’ll see me marrying the senator’s son, turning my life from waitressing to wifedom, and they’ll see it as a success story. Maybe other women will look at it, the image of me like that, and they’ll think— hey, maybe I should go after someone like that too. If she can do it, I can, right…?
The thought stabs a sharp rush of panic into my chest. No. No. I can’t go through with this. If not for myself, then for anyone else who might see me and think this is worth doing. I don’t care how close we are to the actual ceremony, there’s still time for me to get out of here. I just need to run, while I still have the chance…
Something snaps in me, and I rush over to the window, trying to dig my nails under the frame to pull it open—a couple of my tasteful pale pink falsies ping off onto the floor around me, but I pay no attention to them. Adrenaline is coursing through my system—the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end, panic gripping me but urging me onward at the same time. I have to get out of here. I have to…
Finally, the window creaks loudly and eases up an inch or two—my eyes widen, and I whip my head around to the door to make certain nobody has overheard me. I asked for a few minutes to myself to get myself straightened up before I went down to the ceremony, but in a matter of moments, someone is going to come looking for me, and I might be caught in the act.
I pry the window open a few more inches, wincing at every scrape and scratch it makes against the frame. Someone will have heard me, I’m sure. If they walk in now, I can just claim cold feet, and pray to God that nobody mentions to him what I’ve been caught in the midst of.
But soon, I manage to crack a couple feet of space between the window and the sill. It’s not much, but it’s going to have to be enough. Grabbing my skirt and scrunching it up at my waist, I hook one leg over the sill and duck my head down to push myself out. For a horrible second, I think I’m stuck, the window frame pressing down on the back of my neck—but a moment or two later, it pops free, and I tumble into the flower beds next to my hotel room.
My eyes are wide as I spring to my feet, heart slamming against my chest. I shoot a glance this way and that—there’s nobody out here. No, everyone who came to the ceremony is in the main hall right now, waiting for me to arrive, carrying the bunch of pastel-pink roses that match the cummerbund on his tuxedo.
Instead, I spring to my feet, paying no attention to the dirt clinging to my knees and the folds of my dress, and bolt toward the parking lot. I insisted on driving up here myself—I spun some story about it being bad luck for him to see the bride before the day itself, and he’d bought it, allowing me some space to clear my head on the drive over here. It wasn’t like I had bridesmaids to pick up, given that they were all handpicked by his father from his side of the family.
Nor did I really have any friends of my own anymore. Not after everything he’s put me through.
Keys— keys. Do I have my keys on me? Shit, I’ll just have to hope that I left the door unlocked…
I spot my car nestled among all the sleek vehicles in the parking lot—it stands out like a sore thumb, but I don’t give a damn. He’s tried to get me a new one a few times, but I always insisted I liked my little beat-up blue car; she might struggle on hills, but that’s not a problem for me.
I try the door, but it’s locked. Crap! My head starts to spin as I kneel down beside it, attempting to find some way I can continue my escape attempt before someone notices I’m gone…
And that’s when something catches my attention from the corner of my eye. A twinkle of something, there, in the sunshine—a set of keys! I dive over and snatch them up. Someone must have dropped them when they were getting out of their car, or one of the valets here must not be as careful as he should be—either way, it doesn’t matter. I have keys. I just need to figure out whose car they belong to, and I’m on my way…
I check the leather tag attached to the keys, and sure enough, it matches the logo attached to one of the vehicles just a few cars over from me. I rush toward it and, with shaking hands, push the key into the lock. I almost expect it to set off some screaming alarm telling everyone in the area that I’m trying to do something I shouldn’t, but instead, it unlocks smoothly, and I climb inside.
Gripping the wheel, I stare back toward the hotel. This is it—my last chance. If I want to change my mind, I still can. I can pretend none of this happened, I can turn on my heel and head back inside, I can leave those keys right where I found them and go back and marry that man, even if I know it’s a bad idea…
Or I can run. I can run for the fucking hills, and never look back. And no matter how terrifying it might seem, that’s better than staying here and letting him take everything from me.
I throw the car into reverse, pull away from the parking lot, and take off toward the road. The roar of the engine is loud enough that I’m sure it’s going to attract some attention, which means I have to get out of here quickly. By the time they notice I’m missing, a stolen car is going to be the last of their worries—and I don’t even want to think about what kind of chaos I’m leaving behind me.
I speed through the large gates that cut off the hotel from the rest of the world, and hit the road once more—the sun is still beaming cheerfully above me, as though it has no idea what’s going on here on this day. I press down on the accelerator, glancing in the rearview mirror and making sure nobody is following me—the hotel vanishes in the distance, going, going, gone, until there’s nothing left of it at all. My heart skips another beat in my chest. Oh God. I’m doing this. I am really doing this.
Once I find the highway, I take a turn toward the forest. I don’t know this area well, but I took a trip up to the woods a few years ago, and I can at least navigate my way back to the city from there. That damn return journey from the cabin to my real life is burned into my memory, after all.
A loud ringing plays in my ears as I drive. I can hardly take in anything that’s going on around me. It feels like everything is about to shatter into a thousand pieces.
I roll down the window, trying to let some cool air in, but it’s too cold—it bites me, the sky darkening overhead as rain begins to fall. I roll it up again and try to stay focused on the lines on the road as they slip beneath the car, over and over again.
Every vehicle that passes me, I find my head snapping up, looking around to see if it’s him. How long has it been since I left? An hour, maybe ninety minutes? And how long would they have left it before they came to the hotel room to see what was keeping me so long? He’s an impatient man, James, and I doubt he would have been willing to give it more than a few minutes. And when he finds that I’m out of there…
I am fucked. Well and truly and totally fucked.
The rain begins to turn to snow around me, and I keep my grip tight on the wheel. I’m not going to let anything move me off course, I’m just not. I can’t go back now. I don’t even want to think what he would do to me if he knows I tried to abandon him like this—hell, maybe he’s got a right to be pissed, with me taking off like this.
No. After everything he’s done to me, this is nothing. He deserves it.
A smile twists up the corners of my lips. I’m not usually cruel like this, but fuck, the thought of him standing there, realizing that I’m not coming back, it feels good. Right. Like this is the first good choice I’ve made for myself in longer than I can remember.
I pull onto a road that snakes into the forest, through the dark Oregon woods that rise up on either side of me—I know a lot of people think of this place as creepy, because of how rural it is, but I’ve always found it peaceful. The few trips I’ve made up here over the years, they’ve been quiet, and that’s exactly what I need in my life right now—quiet. Something as far removed from the bullshit that he’s dragged me into as I can get. If I have to make like a wild woman and go live in the bough of a tree or something, I’ll do it. Better than the alternative…
But as I drive, the snow begins to fall harder. It’s piling up at the sides of the road, creating heavy piles that are already starting to ice over the ground beneath me—I can’t help but think of how easy it will be for them to track my tires through this snow. And it’s winter, so it’s not like it’s going to just dissipate after a few hours, before they figure out which way I’ve gone. No, when we get snow, we get snow , and this blizzard will likely cut down my visibility for the rest of the night, at least…
I should pull over. But I don’t know how this car works, how I can get the heating on, and staying out here in the snow with nothing to protect me from the elements is way too dangerous. I need to find somewhere to stay the night, somewhere away from the snow. There has to be a motel somewhere near here. I don’t know how I’m going to get in there with no money, or what they’re going to think of me when I turn up in my wedding dress, but I can cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, all that matters is getting through these woods before the blizzard completely takes hold, and…
“Shit!”
I let out a cry as the car hits a patch of ice, spiraling out from underneath me. I manage to get it under control just before it swerves off the road entirely, but it’s a close thing. I pause for a moment, breathing hard, and catch sight of myself in the mirror—the veil is still half drawn over my face, but I can see my eyes. They’re narrow, focused, and I know that’s the energy I need to bring to the rest of this journey.
I start the car up again and push forward. I’m going a little slower this time, but still fast enough to put some serious distance between myself and the wedding venue where I was meant to sign away the rest of my life to that man. No matter what happens to me out on this road, it’s better than anything I signed myself up for back there, I’m sure of that.
I crest a hill—but as soon as I start to come down the other side, panic hits me once more. The car is sliding. It’s not under my control. I try to press down on the brakes, but the cold must have hit this place sooner than anywhere else—the ice is thick, solid, and there’s nothing I can do to pull the car to a halt.
It picks up speed as it comes down the hill—the snow is so thick I can hardly see what’s waiting for me beyond it. I press myself back into the seat, gritting my teeth and bracing for impact…
And in a matter of seconds, the dark wood of a huge tree emerges from the whiteout—and I hear the sound of crumpling metal before everything vanishes to blackness.