Adrian's Wrath(5)

How she wished she could just go one night without thinking about him. Maybe she could have moved on by now if not for the fact that his last parting words still haunted her, even after all this time.

“There isn’t a place on this planet that you can run to and I won’t find you. You’ll always come back to me, Brea. I’ll find you again and I’ll make you submit in every way possible. We are meant to be together.”

Just thinking of Cameron left a bad taste in her mouth and had her stomach in knots. Even though he was so sure she would be back, she hadn’t been. After the last time he had laid his hands on her, had forced her onto that bed, she had made her mind up that she would leave and never look back. She couldn’t if she had any hope of surviving.

With the wad of cash in her hand she opened the freezer and shoved the frozen veggies and TV dinners out of the way. She grabbed the frosty can of generic coffee and popped the lid off. Inside she pulled out the plastic bag of coffee grounds and set it on the counter. Maybe it wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it was close if she needed it. Shoving the cash at the bottom of the can with the rest of the tips she had earned, she placed the coffee back in and shoved the can in the back of the freezer. The next thing she did, partly out of habit, but mainly out of survival, was walk back out to the front hallway and pull the duffle bag stored beneath the wooden bench out. Inside she double-checked all her necessary supplies she would need in case she had to make a quick getaway. Extra clothes and shoes, toiletries, a little bit of cash that she didn’t keep in the freezer in case she couldn’t get to it, important documents, and the one thing that might be the only thing that saved her life. A Colt .45 that her father had given her before he passed away.

She held the revolver in her palm, the weight substantial. The ivory handle was worn, but when the light hit it there was still a slight shine to it. The metal was cold, but she knew if she continued to hold it long enough it would warm her flesh. It never failed. Whenever she held this gun she instantly felt safer. Why she hadn’t used it on Cameron all those times he hit her, all those times he threatened her, was still lost on her. She could blame the fear he inflicted on her, but she knew deep down she was a coward. That was until this last time. She knew she would never be afraid to use it on him again.

Opening the chamber, Brea checked to make sure the bullets were ready to go. Checking her duffle every night might have seemed repetitive to others, but this was Brea’s life, and she needed to make sure everything was in order in case Cameron did find her, which she didn’t doubt he would. He always found her.

Before heading into her room for the night, she made sure the doors were locked, the alarm system was in fact engaged, and her car keys were easy to reach. She was tired, mentally and physically. Honestly, she had no idea how much longer she could go through this. Constantly looking over her shoulder had her perpetually on edge and never at rest.

“Just a little bit longer and I can finally be free.” She knew if she left the country she would have a better chance of finally being free of Cameron. At least she was smart enough this time to actually change her last name.

After a shower so hot she felt like her skin would peel off, Brea wrapped a towel around her body and ran her hand over the fogged-over mirror. The woman that stared back at her looked pathetic. Blue eyes that looked far too big on her face had dark circles underneath. Her blonde hair looked darker now that it was wet, but she knew even dry it was dull and lifeless. Just like her life now.

She slipped her pajamas on and turned off her bedroom light, bathing the room in darkness and shadows. The room she slept in was cold and dark, but it was hers, for the time being anyway. She stood there a moment, feeling her anxiety spike, but closing her eyes and counting to ten. It was a therapeutic exercise she had adopted years ago, and most of the time it helped her, but there were also times closing her eyes and trying to breathe through it just made it worse. She started to come down from the wave of panic that threatened to consume her. When her strength returned and she was able to open her eyes, she took in her surroundings. Double bed pushed against the wall with worn flowered wallpaper. The lone window in her room was covered in peeling, black-painted metal bars, another accessory that came with the house. She was okay with that. They added to her level of safety.

“You’re fine. You aren’t back there and he isn’t here.” Yeah, as long as she kept telling herself that everything would be all right. Brea laughed bitterly. If that wasn’t the biggest load of shit she had ever uttered.