Trouble(12)

She abandoned me.

She left me with him.

Did she know the kind of man he really was? The person she was actually leaving her child with? Did she willingly just walk away leaving me there with that monster of a man?

I have to believe she didn’t know because the thought that she did is just too painful to consider.

I can’t think about it now. I don’t want to think about it.

Too much has happened to me today. I can barely process it.

I need to sleep.

Pressing all thoughts from my mind, I straighten a leg out, and using my toes, I push my bag off the edge of the bed. I switch the light off and climb under the covers.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the sound of the distant traffic on the interstate, trying to focus on that.

I wonder if Forbes is looking for me. What if he finds me here?

On that thought, I get out of bed, grab the heavy chair from the desk, and drag it over to the door, propping it up underneath the door handle. I should have hidden my car behind the motel instead of leaving it upfront, but I’m not going out there now to move it.

Then again, I’m too far out of Boston. Forbes won’t think I’ll have gone this far. I never leave Boston.

The thought makes me sad.

I’ve never left Boston. Not once.

The life I had existed within the city limits. While my mother lived a whole other life, without me.

Climbing back into bed, I turn the TV on using the remote control and focus on the screen instead of focusing on what is going on in my own mind.

Inside my head is not a place I want to be right now.





Chapter Three





Mia





I wake feeling disorientated. My head is throbbing, and I can hear a television on.

I realize I’m in the motel room I slept in last night.

Yesterday’s events come flooding back. Forbes tried to rape me. He sexually assaulted me. My mother – she’s alive. She signed me away. She left me with Oliver.

My heart and stomach start to ache, painfully.

Then I make the mistake of rubbing my eyes. “Shit!”

I press my head back into the pillow and ride out the wave of pain, and grief until it all settles into a dull ache in my chest.

I don’t move again until my bursting bladder forces me out of bed. When I’m done using the bathroom, I check my eye in the mirror.

Jesus, it’s bad. Swollen and black and my eye is bloodshot to hell. No amount of cover-up will conceal this.

Guess I’ll be wearing my sunglasses for the next week.

I drop a couple of Advil to take the edge off the pain, and go back to bed. Resting my back against the headboard, I start channel hopping. I’m trying to focus on the television, and ignore the noise and questions in my mind, but it’s not working.

I know I need to decide what the hell I’m going to do. I can’t just stay here in a motel room, off the I-90, in god knows where. But I can’t go back to my apartment either. Or Boston for that matter. Forbes will be waiting for me.

So what do I do?

I could go to Colorado and find my mother.

No way. She abandoned me. She left me with Oliver.

But you don’t know her reasons. You know what Oliver was like. How terrifying he was. What if she had no choice but to leave?

I bang my head back against the headboard. “Goddammit! No!” I mutter into the silence.

This goes on for a while. But no matter which way I argue it in my head, I won’t rest or be able to move forward until I know why she left me. It will eat away at me.

Maybe finding my mother will finally help me figure out who I am. Give me closure or something. And I have the free time. School is out for summer break. The time could help me figure out what to do with my life, and finding her might help me find myself.

Since Oliver died, I’ve just carried on with the life he set for me. This is my chance to break free and change things.

I don’t even have to go back to Boston if I don’t want to. Yes, I have my apartment there, but that’s not going anywhere, and I could eventually sell it—shit! Goodwill is coming today to collect Oliver’s things.

I dive for my bag and get my cell. I turn it on and ignore the notifications of texts and voicemails from Forbes. I place a call to the lawyer who is handling the house sale.

Voicemail. Too early for anyone to be in the office. I leave a message, explaining that I’ve had to leave town for a few days, and asking if they can arrange for someone to be there to let Goodwill in the house.

I hang up and turn my cell off. The last thing I want to do is hear any of Forbes’ cruel words.

With a plan in hand, I dress quickly, cringing that I have to wear yesterday’s things. I need to make a stop and get some new clothes and underwear.

I tie my hair into a ponytail, put my sunglasses on, and check out of the motel.