Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
Reagan
“I feel bad leaving.”
I did my best to offer a genuine smile. It wasn’t too difficult, considering I was happy. Well, as happy as someone in my position could be.
“Please don’t worry, Mallory. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight. Both of you.”
Truly, it had been nothing short of wonderful. Mallory and Nixon didn’t seem to think twice about stepping up to help Erin and me. They were with us every step of the way, and while Mallory made sure I had clothes to come home in by snagging a spare set of scrubs from someone on staff, Nixon made sure the police were called and that Erin’s family was contacted.
Hours had passed, and they stayed by my side the entire time. It was one of the first times in my life that I’d felt so genuinely cared for. I guess that’s what I got for being a longstanding customer at Grant’s Deli.
“It was nothing. Honest. But are you sure you’re going to be okay? We can call someone to come and stay with you.”
There wasn’t anyone to call. Maybe, if things had been different, I might have asked them to reach out to Hart. But that was obviously not an option now.
I shook my head. “No. No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m just glad we were able to get in touch with Erin’s family so they could be with her. She really needs the support far more than I do after everything she went through.”
Mallory eyed me curiously, like she had thoughts in her head she wanted to share but had ultimately decided against revealing them. “Yes, it was such a tremendous relief for them to see her back safe. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it out okay, too.”
“Thanks, Mallory. That means a lot to me.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything before we go?”
“I’m sure.”
Mallory opened her arms and pulled me in for a hug. When she released her hold on me, she held out a small slip of paper. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call me. Anytime, day or night.”
My heart practically exploded in my chest at the fondness I felt for Mallory. She was a wife, new mom, and business owner, and she was beyond selfless.
“I appreciate that. Thank you.” I shifted my attention to the side and tipped my chin up to look at Nixon. “Thank you for driving me home tonight, too.”
He shook his head and waved his hand in the air, as though dismissing the thought. “Don’t mention it. We’re just happy we could help. Like Mallory said, if you need us, just call.”
As it stood, I already felt guilty about having ruined their date night. Between getting checked out at the hospital and interviewed by the police, hours had passed since Erin and I had escaped and flagged down Mallory and Nixon. The last thing I would ever want to do is become a burden to them. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to call them like they were suggesting, but it was so incredibly kind of them to offer. “I will.”
The three of us said a quick round of goodbyes before Mallory and Nixon walked out to their truck. I immediately locked the door behind them and let out a deep sigh.
I was home.
For the first time in nearly two weeks, I was back in my house.
I stepped away from the front door and strode deeper into the house. As I did, I saw that it was just as I’d left it. No doubt I’d need to empty out my refrigerator and toss a few things.
But it wasn’t the refrigerator that was on my mind as I made my way toward the kitchen. It was the open journal I spotted on my table as I journeyed in that direction.
That’s what I’d been doing before I’d been kidnapped—writing my private thoughts into it.
I walked over, looked down at the words on the page, and felt the tears well in my eyes.
He’s changed my whole life.
Those five words stood out like a flashing neon sign. It hadn’t been that long ago I wrote these words, but it felt like I’d lived a lifetime since then. How did it seem so long ago?
I’d fallen in love with him.
Love.
And look where it had gotten me.
I’d fallen in love with a man who had the power to do to me what Hart had done. Closing my eyes, I sighed.
There had already been such a wide range of emotions coursing through me—regret, disappointment, sadness, and fear—and now I had to contend with this. With everything that had happened from the second Erin and I had escaped until now, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to think about Hart.
Now, it was hitting me full force.
Did he know that I’d gotten out? How did he react? Was he aware that it was his foolish mistake to put me back in that cell and leave me with his jacket that allowed me to get away?
All the questions about why he’d do this, why he’d live such a terrible double life, flitted through my mind. And just like it had been when I’d confronted him about it, I still had no answers.
He was cruel.
He was evil.
He knew how to play the game just right.
And I’d been so desperate for any affection and attention I could get that I fell right into the palm of his hand. I’d never be able to trust myself again.
I closed the journal, unwilling to look at anything else that would push me deeper into the pit of despair I was swirling in.
There was little I wanted more than to take a shower and crawl beneath the warm blankets of my own bed, but I couldn’t.
It had been hours since I’d escaped. And now that I was here, alone in my home, I realized I wasn’t safe.
Those men took me from my home.
Hart had spent hours inside this house.
I should have asked Mallory and Nixon to take me somewhere else. Anywhere else. Because being here any longer was a risk, a risk I wasn’t willing to take.
What if they came back? What if they didn’t wait until I answered the door but decided to simply break in and take me again?
An unsettling wave of panic rose inside me as my eyes darted around the place that I’d spent so many years trying to turn into something warm and inviting, something that would feel like a true home.
Now, it felt like a gateway to destruction, devastation, and despair.
Pulse pounding at the sudden and unexpected fear, I went into autopilot mode. Without thinking much about it, my body just did what it had to do in order to protect me. I climbed the stairs and scurried into my bedroom. I pulled out an oversized bag and stuffed a few days’ worth of clothes and my favorite toiletries inside. After getting everything that I needed from the second floor, I descended the stairs and gathered up my laptop, purse, and journal. I searched everywhere for my phone, but I couldn’t locate it. Deciding it wasn’t worth it to delay my departure over the missing phone and risk having one or more of those men coming back here to collect me, I went in search of my car keys. They, too, were missing. It seemed that wherever my phone was, my keys were with it.
I strode into my kitchen, opened the drawer where I kept miscellaneous items, and grabbed my spare set of car keys.
I was out the door in a flash, running to my car before anyone could jump out, tackle me to the ground, and haul me away once more. I’d never survive that same horror again.
After backing out of the driveway, I drove as fast as I could through the streets of Steel Ridge to a hotel. I needed time to think, to come up with a plan, and there wasn’t a chance I’d be able to do that, sitting in my house wondering who’d come looking for me.
I made it to the hotel and nearly cried with relief when they confirmed they had a room available. In fact, they had several options, and after what I’d been through the last two weeks, I’d decided to upgrade to a suite for a bit more space and luxury.
Once I had my room key in hand, I hopped on the elevator and took it up to my floor. It wasn’t until I’d gotten myself into my room and locked the door that I let out a small sigh of relief.
It wasn’t perfect. It certainly wouldn’t be a great long-term solution, but it would be sufficient for tonight. And perhaps tomorrow, too.
I didn’t know who I was trying to kid.
The reality was that until I had confirmation that they’d all been caught, that every man who took part in that entire operation was arrested, prosecuted, and sentenced, I wouldn’t feel safe.
I dropped my things onto the bed, pulled out my toiletries, and moved to the bathroom, where I stripped out of the scrubs that I’d been given at the hospital. Then I took the longest, warmest shower in history. Until this had happened to me, I hadn’t realized what a privilege it was to be able to take a shower in private. Because even if Hart had given me the opportunity to take a shower after I’d woken up clinging to him, it still wasn’t something I could have done without his permission.
Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back and allowed the water to run over me. How long was I going to be haunted by thoughts of him? How long would it be before I didn’t think about the good times we’d had together and wish I hadn’t ever seen the dark side of him?
My tears mixed with the water from the shower, and all I could hope was that this would be the last time I shed a tear over Hart and the entire situation. It was a tall order, one that would likely never come to fruition, but that didn’t stop me from hoping for the best.
I finished in the shower, got myself dressed in my own pajamas, and crawled into the king-sized bed beneath the thick duvet and between the crisp, clean sheets.
It wasn’t home.
Then again, no place had ever felt like that, so I really couldn’t complain.
I did the only thing I could do and said a silent prayer of thanks that, at least for tonight, I was safe.
I turned out the light, rolled to my side, and allowed the loneliness to creep in. Fortunately, the exhaustion from everything took over, and somehow, I’d managed to drift off before my thoughts could take me somewhere I didn’t want to go.
* * *
Two months Later
“That should do it. There’s no turning back now.”
There was nobody around to hear me, but that wasn’t anything new. It didn’t stop me from resorting to talking to myself. In a way, that had become like a form of therapy, like writing in my journal had been.
Things were getting back to normal. I was getting back to normal. Or, well, I was trying to, anyway.
This, of course, would be the new normal. Because nothing would ever be like it was before. Nothing would ever be the same again.
I’d given myself about twenty-four hours after I’d escaped from that nightmare to grieve. I grieved over the pain of everything I’d been through, as well as the loss of my old life. And it didn’t take me long to realize that if I didn’t put a limit on the amount of time that I allowed myself to spend feeling sorry for myself, I’d easily fall into a place that wouldn’t be easy to claw my way out of.
So, right around dinnertime the evening after I checked into the hotel, I’d pulled out my laptop. Then I got to work.
I checked my emails, which had piled up tremendously. I reviewed the properties I’d had listed, and I reached out to those clients. While I had missed out on several showing opportunities, my work was the one area I felt surprisingly fortunate. Nothing major had happened in the time I was gone, and I’d been lucky enough not to miss any closings.
Initially, I wasn’t sure how much work I’d be able to get myself to do, but once I got started, I couldn’t seem to stop. I ordered room service and worked for hours, responding to emails and getting myself caught up.
It felt good, and it was just the distraction I needed.
By the time I’d stopped, I was exhausted and easily drifted off for the night. And when I woke up the next morning, my inbox was full again.
So, I kept working. Before I knew it, I had a full schedule of showings amidst a pile of other work to be done.
Keeping busy had been tremendously beneficial. And after taking those first few days to sort out my professional life, I looked at my personal life. I couldn’t live in the hotel forever, so I worked on finding myself a place to rent. I wasn’t ready to return to my house just yet.
In the weeks that followed my escape from a human trafficking ring, I’d found a way to rebuild my life.
But it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine.
Nightmares began three or four days after I’d gotten out. And after a week of them not subsiding, after getting less and less sleep as I woke recalling the horrors I’d endured and witnessed, I decided it was time to seek some professional help.
So, I started seeing a therapist. It hadn’t been easy to recount everything, but the benefits had been tremendous. She helped me work through a lot, and over time, the nightmares had eased. And though I hadn’t had one in weeks, I hadn’t stopped my visits with my therapist. There were things I hadn’t quite worked through just yet, or perhaps just one thing—the utter devastation I felt over Hart’s deception and betrayal.
Whenever my thoughts drifted to him and how angry I was about how I’d been fooled by him, I tried to look at the silver lining.
Erin.
She was the one good thing to come out of this horrible situation. I’d given my number to her family before I left the hospital the night we escaped. Erin had since called, and although we hadn’t gotten together yet—she was still working through so much trauma—we had a wonderful conversation and were hoping to get together some time within the next few months.
It didn’t matter to me that she was quite a few years younger. We had been through something so terrible together, but if we could develop a real friendship from this, our age difference didn’t matter to me at all.
I had worried that Erin wouldn’t want to see me again, that I would be a reminder of the bad things that had happened to her, but she’d insisted that wasn’t the case. I couldn’t wait to see her again, and I hoped it would be just one more step in the healing process for the both of us.
I was now renting a new townhouse and was back to working just like I had been before my kidnapping. Aside from the nightmares and emotional trauma I was dealing with, the most difficult thing I’d encountered was developing a new routine.
Because I’d had years of doing the same thing. And while returning to most of that shouldn’t have been a problem, parts of it were.
I no longer went to Grant’s Deli on Tuesday afternoons for lunch. Even if I believed that Hart would never return there—assuming he hadn’t been arrested—I wasn’t ready to face that memory. It would only serve as a reminder of my stupidity and everything I’d lost.
Aside from that, there was one other thing that had been a tough habit to break. With my work schedule being so full, I often found myself focused on whatever was happening there that I forgot to think about what kept me awake some nights. And when that happened, I’d return to my former routine and drive straight to my old house.
The first time I’d done it had been particularly jarring. It wasn’t until I’d pulled into the driveway that it hit me. For a brief moment, I thought that meant I was ready.
But I couldn’t bring myself to get out of my car. Instead, I backed out of the driveway and left. And when the same thing happened a few days later, I forced myself to go inside. I wasn’t in there more than five minutes when I returned to my car and drove off again.
Of course, I’d made the conscious effort to go back to the house in several instances, but I’d done that knowing what I was doing and needing to get some clothes or other things for work from my home office. Winding up there when it hadn’t been my plan, when I’d already managed to move so many of my personal belongings out, was when I found myself struggling.
So, I’d decided.
And today, I was putting my new plan into action.
I took several steps back and assessed the sign. A wave of melancholy washed over me. Though it hadn’t had everything I’d ever wanted or wished it could have, this place had been my first home.
Now, it was for sale.
I hadn’t ever anticipated selling it, so to see the sign in the front yard now was a bit upsetting. Continuing to live here was no longer an option for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy about having to make this change.
Unwilling to keep myself too exposed, and realizing that standing here feeling bad for myself wouldn’t change my mindset, I walked back to my car and hopped in.
Then I drove myself back to my new place, a place that I still hadn’t fully settled into. Maybe that would change after my old home sold. Or maybe it would always feel this way, because I couldn’t seem to reach a place where anything felt good anymore.
That had been the one thing I noticed.
Apart from my work-related success, I couldn’t seem to find any joy in my life.
I realized it hadn’t been that long since I’d escaped from something so horrific, but I’d been hoping for some minor wins in my personal life over the last two months. I’d had nothing.
As I pulled to a stop in front of my new place, I did my best to brush it off. My focus should have been on gratitude. Of all the women who’d been abducted and put into one of those cells, I had to have been one of the luckiest. Sure, I’d suffered through some tough physical blows to my body, but I hadn’t been violated to the extent many of them had.
I had to remind myself of the reality of the situation continuously. I was here, safe, and getting on with my life. Some of those women didn’t have that chance, especially not if they were sold before I even came along.
Refusing to dwell on it any longer tonight—no doubt my mind would make me return tomorrow—I got out of the car and went inside. Following the emotionally draining day today, I wasn’t up for cooking. So, I ordered some food for delivery and kept myself busy with emails until it arrived.
Work had been such an escape for me that I’d been easily getting myself lost in whatever I was doing lately. And while it had been great to have something positive to focus on, it often left me so distracted I didn’t pay attention to things I should have.
Like the doorbell ringing far too soon after I’d placed my order for delivery.
But I got up and approached the door without thinking twice.
And the second I opened it and came face-to-face with Hart, everything I’d been trying to forget and move on from brought me crashing back to reality.