1. Chapter 1 #2
“You think you can pull yourself away for a bit later for some fun?” Chris gave her a hopeful smile. “I’m makin’ tacos.”
The invite made her heart sink in her chest. He'd have more fun without her. His friends would be more comfortable. The vibe would be better, and who was she to ruin someone’s birthday party?
She forced a smile and nodded anyway.
The sound of the loose bedroom doorknob, the cacophony of music, and party banter woke Annie later that night.
Her back was to the doorway. She opened one heavy eye, and Chris's shadow loomed on the wall opposite.
His gaze roamed over her back, the weight of which made her want to curl up tighter.
When he closed the door, dampening the party music, she heaved a sigh.
She hadn’t come to his party .
At first, she’d felt genuinely guilty, especially since she’d skipped dinner, too. Time had ticked by, and she still hadn't finished writing her article; her headache had forced her to stop.
They better leave at midnight . It was nearly eleven.
Which was fair... right? Didn’t they have lives to go back to?
And she expected Chris to roll into bed in an hour or so. Fall asleep. Snore– he snarled like a bear when he drank heavily, but she’d gotten used to it.
Serene Hallowbrew wouldn’t stand for this , Annie thought.
When she was nine, she’d imagined a fae character who could say all the things she wished she could. It felt embarrassing to entertain it for what it was– escapism– but now she couldn’t turn it off. Now, she couldn't stop thinking about how the fae would handle this situation.
“I hope they all catch food poisoning,” Serene, dressed in burgundy and black, spat darkly from the back of her crow, Aerin. She shook her head, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder, before lightly kicking the bird and flying away.
“Wish I could fly away…” Annie murmured.
She didn’t realize she’d fallen back asleep until a drunken argument outside the bedroom startled her into wakefulness.
Someone pounded on what Annie guessed was the hallway half-bath.
The assailant rattled the doorknob, as if aiming to rip it off, screws and all.
She gathered it was a lover’s quarrel. A few choice curses rang in her ears, coming from both parties, zapping her with their cruelty.
Blinking to focus, she squinted at the red numbers of her bedside alarm clock. The reality of the current hour drove a spike through her consciousness.
3am!
She cupped her palms over her face.
I can’t do this anymore.
The feeling rose from her guts.
I really, really can’t…
She was done.
So very done.
She yanked clothes from hangers. Grabbed her toiletries from the master bath, shoving them deep into her duffle bag, along with her laptop.
Her favorite throw blanket got snatched up, too.
She put on her black jacket and black-rimmed glasses while wiping the snot from her nose, and flung open the bedroom door.
Four birthday guests in the hallway looked stunned to see her. A man– Tanner? — leaned an arm against the bathroom door. His cheeks were beet red.
“She was here?” someone she didn’t recognize said to yet another stranger.
“Well, I live here,” Annie awkwardly muttered. Nobody else spoke. They pressed their bodies to the hallway walls to let her pass by.
The bathroom door rattled. The door swung open.
“You ain’t changing my mind, prick!”
Tanner’s taller frame bumped into Annie as she slipped by, throwing her against the opposite wall. Her bag fell from her grip, tangling with her feet. Tanner’s hands grabbed her shoulders from the back as he mumbled an apology before a solid, meaty thud cut him off.
“Fuck, Rache!” Tanner turned to face the irate woman who’d exploded from the bathroom.
Annie rubbed her arm where it had hit the wall. She stepped to the side as Rachel drew back her balled fist and punched Tanner in the chest. When the two strangers in the hallway moved to intervene, Rachel waved her arms .
“Forget it,” she spat. “Find your own way home! It’s over!” As the woman stomped past, she shot Annie a withering up-down sneer.
The two strangers turned to Tanner. Annie stood against the wall for a few moments before her shock wore off. When the front door slammed, she took a deep breath and picked up her duffle bag.
An abandoned beer-pong table stood in the living room. Music thumped loudly, although someone had turned it down a smidge. Trash littered every surface. Someone had lost their entire supper on the kitchen floor; lettuce shreds, guacamole, and half a flour tortilla were scattered and smeared about.
Chris stood at the fridge, flanked by two friends. He stared back at Annie with glassy eyes.
His friends shared a look. One of them coughed a laugh.
Annie’s pale skin went red hot from forehead to collarbone as she stared Chris down. She hiked her duffle bag strap up over her shoulder.
As if pretending she’d vanished right in front of them, Christopher quickly opened the freezer. As he removed a bottle of chilled tequila, he quipped something that distracted his friends and made them laugh.
Right back to the fun.
With any luck, nobody would remember seeing her.
Quickly wiping a rogue tear, she turned for the front door. You coward , she thought.
She wasn’t sure if the insult was meant for Chris.
Or herself.
When she heard how loud the music was from outside, she cringed. Consoling the neighbors usually fell on her shoulders. She expected Chris to get an angry visit or two bright and early.
At least Rachel isn’t out here to jump me .
In the distance was the roar of a car engine. After pulling out her keys, Annie looked behind her vehicle.
She groaned.
Trapped.
Two cars blocked hers in from behind; though it was technically possible to move her car, the landlord would surely throw a fit if she drove over the landscaping.
The thought crossed her mind, though, to lie that one of the guests had been carelessly selfish and had taken a joy ride over the grass and manicured bushes. She turned back to face the house.
If not for the bite of the early spring Fort Walton air, she would’ve thought this a dream. No… An utter nightmare. Her heart raced in her chest. Déjà vu tickled her mind while she stared at the dim, green-tinted porch light of the bungalow she rented with Chris in the suburban Montana town.
I have to get away from this. I can’t stay here. Run. Get away. Run.
Closing her eyes, a thousand memories flooded her mind.
All those nights she’d slept in the family car just to get any peace of mind.
As young as nine, she'd had nightmares that her dad would get up in the middle of the night and drive drunk. She'd bundled herself up in the backseat with pillows and a snack, hoping tomorrow would be different from yesterday.
Hoping that her parents wouldn't fight every minute they were awake.
Hoping “good Dad” would stay, and “bad Dad” would go away forever, or even just for a solid week.
Hoping the next day would bring salvation.
But nothing ever changed, even when Mom had left.
I have to get away from this .
Later, as a teenager, she’d found minimal solace inside the old beater she’d bought with the funds from her two summer jobs.
It became her second bedroom when Dad was restless and in a stormy mood.
Pacing the house in the middle of the night, half-starting tasks and leaving behind mess after mess.
Picking fights about nothing or nonsense.
She’d hid all that for years, even from Molly, before she’d slipped up one tipsy night and accidentally confessed it. She’d never told Chris.
That car was gone now– thankfully– and she had no intention of cuddling up with old memories in the back of her current car. It had been almost ten years since sleeping in a car had held any appeal– though that was an overstatement. It was purely about survival.
Chris didn’t so much as peek out the window. When someone loved someone, they were supposed to provide a safe place. As she thought about this, a second thought whapped her in the face.
I’d rather walk out into traffic than lie in that bed alone ever again. Cold air ran right through her. Gotta sit tight for a bit. She unlocked her car and got behind the wheel.
She hated bothering anyone at this hour, but Molly had made her promise to never hesitate if she was in trouble again.
Her breath smoked out of her nose. Rubbing her arms, she grabbed her phone. The screen light made her squint.
After several rings, Molly answered.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded languid and raspy. “Mmm... Everything okay?”
Annie swallowed, blinking away stinging tears. Her voice quivered as she spoke into the phone. “C-could you come pick me up? I’m at the house…” Her lip trembled. “Chris threw a pa rty. I can’t go anywhere... I’m blocked in. I need help. I’m trying to get out of here.”
Annie heard the baritone rumble of Peter’s voice as he questioned his wife on the other end of the line. After a second, Molly spoke again with an air of urgency.
“We’ll be there as quickly as we can. Sit tight.”
“Thank you,” Annie whispered. She wanted to let out a sigh of relief, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Not yet.