Prologue
G
Three Years Ago
“Giselle? Are you up there?” Blinking owlishly, I lift my head.
Did someone say something?
“Giselle?”
Embarrassingly, it takes a minute for my brain to connect the dots, but once I do, my eyes shoot open. Someone did say something, and that voice does not belong to my husband.
“Giselle, it’s Tom, honey.”
What is Tom doing here?
My head drops as my sleepy brain works out why.
The only reason my husband’s partner would be in my house yelling is because Rick was too drunk to drive himself home tonight.
My husband’s on the police force, and once a week, he and his team get together to blow off some steam.
That’s code, for they go out drinking and mess around on their wives.
“Damn.”
The last time Tom had to bring him home, I ended up black and blue for over a week, and it took months for my ribs to heal fully.
I place my hand on my rounded belly. I have a hell of a lot more to lose now.
“Giselle?”
Shit. I need to get down there. “One second,” I call back.
“Gisele? I really need to be heading home.”
Placing my hand on my back for support, I awkwardly push myself up out of the bed.
“Ow,” I hiss when my son jabs his foot in my ribs. Frowning, I rub at the spot, hoping that he’ll settle down. He’s going to be like his momma when he grows up — grouchy when his sleep is disturbed.
With my feet under me, I carefully make my way down the steps.
“Giselle, I gotta go,” Tom calls out again. You’d think the man would realize that at eight and a half months pregnant, I wasn’t going anywhere fast.
When I round the corner into the living room, Tom and my husband are sitting with their heads together, talking quietly. I don’t pay Tom any mind, instead focusing on Rick to get a read on his mood.
“Rick’s a little out of it, sweetheart,” Tom says, finally looking up at me. My eyes fly to his, then slowly drift back to my husband.
Hopefully, I can get him to bed and avoid any unpleasantries.
“I really need to head home. Follow me to the door, sweetheart, and lock it behind me. Rick would never forgive me if something happened to you or his boy.”
That was a lie. The biggest threat to our safety was him.
“Thanks for bringing him home, Tom.” Another lie, but it’s what’s expected of me, so I play my role. Smiling at Tom, I close the door behind him.
I’ve resolved myself to the fact that nobody is going to swoop in and save me. The only way out of here alive will be to take off and run as far away as I can get. Something I’ve already begun to prepare for.
Two hands land on the door on either side of my head as Rick uses his big body to crowd me against the door.
“Giselle.” My eyes dart between his as I pray he doesn’t lose his cool.
His hands drift from the door to my hips and he turns me to face the door.
My eyes squeeze shut when I hear his belt unfasten before he lifts my gown.
In one swift thrust he fills me, uncaring that my body wasn’t ready to take him.
Viciously, he thrusts inside me, his body weight holding me against the door.
Tears stream down my cheeks, but I don’t dare make a sound. To refuse him would only make it worse.
Long minutes later, his body stills, and he groans into my neck.
“So fucking pretty when you cry,” he whispers against my ear before he pulls out and heads for the stairs without a backward glance.
Heading for the bathroom, I clean myself up, then head for the stairs.
When I step into my bedroom, my shoulders fall, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Rick is fast asleep.
Thank you. I mime to the heavens.
Signing heavily, I climb into bed beside him and carefully shift until I find a semi-comfortable position. I lay there, staring at my husband’s beautiful face.
I didn’t realize then how foolish it was to believe in something like true love and love at first sight when I met him.
It wouldn’t have mattered, though. Rick had known exactly what he was doing two years ago when he pulled all his best moves on me.
He was flirty, charming, and charismatic, and I was the idiot drawn in by the allure and excitement of an older man being interested in a girl like me. With every interaction, I grew more and more smitten until he had me just where he wanted me, and once he put a ring on my finger, things changed.
Little did I know as my eyes grew heavier, the worst was yet to come.
“Wake up. You have to go.”
My eyes shoot open as precious air fills my lungs.
“Ah,” I cry out in agony as pain rips through my body. There’s a frenzy of activity around me, but I’m unable to focus on anything but the pain consuming me. It hurts so bad.
“Help me,” I croak as the world around me fades to black.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
My eyes blink open, and I tilt my head, taking in my surroundings. I immediately regret the movement and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as stabbing pain sears through my belly. “Oh.”
Instinctively, I move my hand to my — my eyes fly open. “No! No, no, no!” I scream as the memories come flooding in.
Rick.
A fight.
He knocked me to the floor.
His legs straddled mine, and he swung his fists mercilessly.
He…
“No! No, no, no!” I wail in agony as my soul shatters. “No…” I repeat in a whisper: my baby, my son.
“Easy, sweetie. You’ll rip your stitches.” I continue to cry. I don’t care what happens to me, I don’t want to be in a world without my son in it.
“Shhh. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay,” the nurse murmurs, trying to soothe me.
“My baby,” I whisper brokenly.
“I’m so sorry, honey.” I lift my face and meet her pity-filled eyes. I know she’s trying to help, but there’s nothing that will ever be able to fix the gaping hole in my heart.
“Can I see him?” I choke out.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. Your husband had him cremated already.” The mention of Rick makes me freeze. My son is gone, and it’s all his fault.
My eyes fly to hers. I need her to know what he did. “He did this. We fought, and he took me to the ground. Before I knew what was happening, he came down on top of me and straddled my waist,” I whisper.
“What?” Her eyes lash across my body, cataloging the injuries that have been inflicted.
I ignore her reaction and keep going. “I tried to fight him off, but he’s much bigger and stronger than I am.
Blow after blow landed on my face and body.
” I reach up, carefully touching the split I feel on my lip.
I’m barely able to see through the swelling around my eyes, but I won’t let that stop me.
“When he climbed off, I thought he was done, but he wasn’t.
When I tried to crawl away, he put his knee in my back and…
” My body shakes as I begin to cry again.
I fight back the tears, needing her to know all of it.
“He did something… my side and back, it felt like they were on fire.” I look at her, not knowing what he did to me that would feel that way.
“You were stabbed. They found you in an alley. There was no identification on your person; everyone thought you were mugged. We had to identify you through prenatal records.”
As I stare at my hands, I wish he’d killed me too. It’s all my fault. I should have left sooner. He’s always been dangerous… I should have known…
I lift my head, seeing my nurse has come up with the same conclusion — my baby would be here if I hadn’t been so weak.
“Leave,” I croak.
“What?” She looks confused, but I want her gone.
“LEAVE!” I scream, “Get the fuck out!”
“But we need to call the police.”
“No! You can’t!”
“We have to!” she fires back.
“He is the police, you stupid cow!” I scream, once again losing my composure.
“I don’t have a choice. I have to.” Before I can make her understand, she takes off out the door.
Run, Momma. Remember your promise. You have to go now.
I hear the words on repeat and know that I have to get out of there before my husband shows up.
He’s already tried to kill me once, something he won’t fail at a second time.
“Shit,” I hiss, sucking in a deep breath. As carefully as I can manage, I slide my legs over the edge of the bed. I breathe through the pain, biting my tongue to keep from screaming out.
“Shit,” I hiss again, slowly blowing out a breath.
I feel like any second, my insides are going to spill onto the floor. After a minute and a few spilled tears, I push myself to move.
This isn’t the time to fall apart.
“Come on, Giselle. Get up,” whispering the words over and over, I make it onto my feet and shuffle over to the doorway.
I hold my breath as I peek around the door and sigh in relief that the nurse’s station is empty.
I quietly tiptoe down the hallway and duck inside the supply closet.
Jackpot.
On one shelf, there’s a stack of spare scrubs, and the other is overflowing with supplies.
Lifting my arm, I wipe at the sheen of sweat covered on my brow. If I’m going to get out of here, I’m going to have to hurry. I can feel my energy depleting.
“Just a little more,” I whisper, knowing what I’m about to do is going to hurt like hell.
Heaving a deep breath, I lean forward and let the gown slip off my shoulders to pool at my feet. Gingerly moving it aside with my foot, I grab a pair of scrub pants from the shelf and step in carefully, one foot at a time.
I slide the top over my head and slowly work it over my body, trying to ignore the line of stitches holding my abdomen together. I slapped my hand over my mouth as the other wounds on my body make themselves known.
I grit my teeth as the tears trickle down my cheeks. The pain is a lot, but the hole in my heart is unbearable.
It’s my fault. I stayed too long. I should have… “I’m so sorry.” I cover my mouth and sob.
You have to move.
With shaking hands, I fill a garbage bag with supplies and tie off the end.
“This is going to hurt.” Gritting my teeth, I rip off the tape, pull the IV out of my hand, and place a bandage over the tiny bleeding wound.
It’s now or never.
I tiptoe over to the door and, again, peek around to make sure the coast is clear. I’m not sure where everyone has gone, but I’m thanking the gods for this small blessing as I walk out of the supply closet and into the elevator without being caught.
With my head down, I make my way off the elevator and out the front door.
“Hold the car!” I call out, waving my hand at taxi idling at the curb.
My resolve starts to crack as I slide into the backseat and lean my head against the window’s cool glass.
My energy’s fading, but if I’m going to have any chance of getting out of this town, I’m going to have to keep moving.
“Where to?”
“9th and Allendale,” I answer, watching the city move around us.
“You sure you should be leaving here, ma’am? You don’t look so good.” If only he knew how dangerous it would be if I stayed.
“Yeah, it’s time to get away from here.” He glances in the rearview mirror a few times, probably wondering what the hell happened to my face.
I’m not sure how much time passes before he’s tapping on the glass. “Miss. We’re here.”
“Can you wait? I’ll just be a few minutes,” I ask.
“Uh, sure.” He looks concerned, but I don’t have time to assure him that I’ll be okay.
As carefully as I can manage, I slip out of his car and put in the code for the security door. When I hear the clink, signaling it’s unlocked, I push inside and hurry down the hallway to my storage locker.
I’m sure it’s nerves, but I glance over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t been followed as I punch in the code for my unit. When I yank open the door and step inside, the lights turned on automatically.
My unit is small, six feet by six feet to be exact, but its contents were meant to be life-changing.
There on the floor are four backpacks. One is packed with enough clothes and essentials for myself for a few days, and another with money and my papers. The other two I had started to fill with things I would need for my — I cover my mouth and sob.
Lifting one of the smaller bags from the floor, I pull out the downy soft blanket and press it to my nose. It smells of powder like you’d expect a newborn baby to smell.
You have to go. The words are whispered in my mind.
I bury my face in the fabric and breathe it in before returning it back to the bag.
I have to go.
I work quickly to get out of the scrubs and into the clothes I bought from Goodwill several months back. By the time I’m sliding my feet into the sneakers and securing the wig on my head, I’m completely out of gas.
Almost. I remind myself.
All of these little things might be overkill, but I can’t risk anyone recognizing me.
Rick tried to kill me, and I know he will try to hunt me down so he can finish the job. That’s why I need to get as far away from here as I can.
With my bags in hand, I close the door and return to the car.
When I slide back in, my driver’s eyes dart from the red wig on my head to the long-sleeved shirt. I can tell he has a million questions. Questions that I won’t answer, and he seems like the kind of man who’d offer help — something I would never accept, considering who my husband is.
“You need me to call the cops, lady?"
"No!" I blurted out before more softly repeating, “No. No, that won’t be necessary.” With a shaking hand, I feebly wave off his concern.
He nods uncomfortably before asking, "Where to now?"
"The bus station. Please," I add, hating the wobble in my voice as a fresh wave of tears hit me.
I’m grateful that he doesn’t ask any more questions and promptly gets us back on the road.
I need to get the hell out of this town as quickly and quietly as I can.
"We're here," he announces as the car begins to slow.
Cautiously, I lift up and scan the surrounding area through the fogged-up glass. I’m relieved not to see anyone I recognize.
Looking back to the driver, I open my backpack and sift through the wad of bills, offering them gratefully.
His eyes dart between mine before a soft smile touches his lips. He closes his hand over mine and shakes his head, saying softly, "No, child. You keep that. I have a feeling you're going to need it.”
I squeeze my eyes, fighting back the tears. This man, this stranger that doesn’t even know me, has no idea what his kindness means to me.
“Thank you,” I say, choking back a sob.
“Do me a favor?" he asks.
“Okay?” I’m not sure what kind of favor I should be promising. I’m leaving and never coming back.
"Don't ever let anyone do that to you again.” The intensity behind his words causes the dam to break.
A stranger is more concerned for my well-being than anyone else in my life ever has.
Opening the door and placing one foot out, I look back at him and nod. "I won't. Not ever," I vow.
“Good. Good. Take care of yourself.”
With all the courage I can gather, I slide the rest of the way out of the car, walk straight to the ticket window, and buy a one-way ticket to Miami.
Miami is a long way from California.
I just hope it’s far enough to keep me safe.