Hidden(14)

I carefully slip off of the bed and collect the book I left on the dresser last night. I sit on the bed with my legs crossed and start reading. I’m a few chapters in when Dillon starts to stir. He slowly opens his eyes and clamps his mouth shut. He brings both of his hands to his face and rubs them up and down, and then turns to me when he realizes I’m staring at him.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you.”

He nods his head and looks around the room while he gathers his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?” he asks while rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.

My face falls. I’m not ready to talk about it. I look down and pick at my fingernails as I prepare for his question, and then I lift my eyes to meet his.

“Pancakes or waffles?” he asks in a sleepy, hoarse voice. I can feel my face immediately brighten.

“Pancakes,” I reply.

“Great.” He jumps up from the bed. “I’ll make us some breakfast and then I have to do some work. Will you be okay, hanging out here for a while?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you take a shower or do whatever you need to do while I get everything started downstairs.”

“Okay.”

I stand in the shower and let the stream of warm water wash away last night. With the soft fluffy white towel wrapped around me, I wipe the steam off of the mirror and run a comb through my hair. It’s long and tangled, and the ends are split. I look awful. My eyes are puffy. I see a faint yellow bruise on my cheek, probably from when my mother slammed my journal into my face. All the memories come rushing back, but I hold back the tears. I take a deep breath and grab the clothes Dillon gave me last night and put them back on. I have nothing and I don’t want to just rummage through his sister’s clothes.

By the time I get downstairs, Dillon is sitting at the kitchen table reading something on a small computer. A plate stacked with pancakes and fresh strawberries is set on the table at the empty seat beside him. The smell of pancakes attacks my senses. I’m so hungry, my stomach growls loud enough to disrupt Dillon’s reading and he looks up at me.

“Hey, come eat. You must be starving. I’m really no cook but I can make some mean pancakes.” He pats the empty chair and I slowly make my way over and sit. He continues to read, so I dig into the stack and fill my mouth with the warm fluffy goodness that is soaked with maple syrup. I know I’m making sounds as I devour them, but I can’t help it. I notice a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice next to my plate and wash down the pancakes after each bite. The sweet syrup mixes with the tartness on my tongue. I’m completely enthralled with the food and the juice, so I’m not sure how long Dillon has been staring at me over his coffee cup.

“It’s really good,” I say with my mouth full as an explanation for my obnoxious eating habits.

He chuckles. “I can tell. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Listen, I got a call from Detective Douglas while you were in the shower.” He turns slightly towards me.

“What did he say?”

“He just wanted to know if there was anything else you remembered. He said he has the name of the man that owns the land, which I knew was my dad’s friend, Alex Schafer. They’re going to question him. He told me your mother is going to be transferred to a facility in Pueblo. He gave me the address. It’s about three hours from here. She’s still not doing very well, so I don’t think you can see her just yet.”

I nod, letting him know that I heard what he said. Thick emotions are clogging my throat and I can’t get words out. I miss my mother, but I feel like I shouldn’t. She protected me from that monster my whole life, but then couldn’t protect me from her own craziness. I feel lost because I have no home anymore, even though the home I had for eighteen years was more like a prison. I want to trust Dillon because what choice do I really have, but at the same, time I’ve been wired to not trust anyone. I feel somewhat free, but at the same time, trapped. I am trapped by fear. Fear of what is going to happen to me. I’m eighteen and I’ve never had any contact with people. I’ve never been to a store and I don’t even know how to use a phone. I can’t expect Dillon to just take care of me like a stray dog. He has a family, a girlfriend and a career.

“Are you okay?” he asks me as my mind starts to go crazy with my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I say, but I’m not. I’m really not okay. I push the remaining pancakes around on my plate with my fork.

“Amy. Don’t think too much. You can stay here for as long as you need. Don’t worry about anything. You just need to take it easy right now. Listen, I have to get some work done this morning, but I’ll cut it short. When I’m done working, we’ll have dinner and hang out or something. Sound good?”