Exposure

Except that a wall shifts on me — just a little. Which makes me giggle. “Doc, yurr bread’s the best thing since sliced drugs.”

Tricia guides me out the door. To life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I am so relieved, I could cry.

For one glorious morning — in the dentist’s chair of all places — I discovered what it felt like to be fearless. I can’t begin to tell you how freeing that was. Like floating. Like I could do anything. Anything.

I’m going to get that freedom back. Somehow. Without drugs.

With that kind of power I could spit in the face of my worst fear come true.

TWENTY-ONE

Lorraine huddled in the black closet, clutching Tammy to her chest. Her arms had nearly gone numb from battling the little girl, and her leg muscles shook. Tammy now hung limp and sweating, her breath in a shallow pant. Terror squeezed Lorraine’s lungs. The sounds she’d heard from the living room and hall rattled in her head. Voices, running, someone crashing into a wall. Then a noise — twice — muted through two closed doors and all the clothes. Like a metallic smack.

Gunshots? Shock raced through her veins.

No, couldn’t be. They were arguing, and one of them knocked a chair over. Something like that.

Finally — silence.

She cocked her head, trying to listen above the whoosh of blood in her ears. Was that voices she heard? Calmer now, quiet. Or was she just imagining them?

“Stay here until I come get you. ” Lorraine clung to Martin’s words. He would come any minute now. Any minute.

Lorraine waited.

If only she’d thought to bring Tammy’s stuffed bear in with them. It would have been such a comfort for Tammy.

Dread mushroomed in Lorraine’s chest, and Tammy grew heavier and heavier. The air gelled, too stale to breathe. She had no idea how much time had passed. Ten minutes? Thirty? Four times she started to push up, but each time caution overcame her. What if Martin and that man were still in the living room? What if she or Martin or Tammy paid some great price for her own impatience?

Lorraine waited until she could wait no longer. Until she’d convinced herself that far too much time had passed in silence. The man had to be long gone.

But where was Martin?

Deep within her, dark voices whispered of a nightmare too terrible to imagine. She closed her heart, refusing to listen.

“Tammy.” Her dry throat could barely form words. “We’re going out now. I need you to be quiet. Can you do that?”

Tammy whimpered and nodded. Guilt swept through Lorraine. What she’d put her daughter through. Tammy would have nightmares for weeks.

Lorraine lowered the little girl to the floor. Her own leg muscles were too weak to crab-walk out, carrying the weight of a four-year-old. Tammy cried and grabbed fistfuls of her shirt. “No, no.”

“I’m right here. I’ll keep a hand on you. We’ll go out together.”

Gripping Tammy’s arm, Lorraine crawled over shoes and toys, urging her daughter along. She ducked under hanging clothes, the bottoms of shirts and pants sweeping over her head. She could smell her own sweat, her half- asleep feet prickling.

She lifted a hand, feeling for the door. When it hit wood, she ran her fingers upward, seeking the knob. The door opened, flooding in light and fresh air. Lorraine blinked and sucked in a greedy breath, oxygen burning in her lungs.

Together they crawled out of the closet.

Lorraine tried to stand, but her stiff legs wouldn’t obey. She sank down hard on the carpet. Then listened.

No sound of men talking. Or movement.

The dark voices whispered in her head.

Grimacing, she pushed to her feet. “Tammy, stay here for a minute.”

“No!”

“Stay here.”

Lorraine made her way toward the door. Tammy sprang up and wrapped a little hand around her leg. Lorraine tried to unwind the fingers, but they dug into her skin. Tears bit her eyes. How was she supposed to do this?

She listened again but heard nothing. Martin must have gone somewhere with the man. It would be safe to go out there with Tammy. It had to be. The little girl wasn’t about to stay behind.

“Come on.” Lorraine reached down. “I’ll hold your hand.”

Tammy let go of her leg and hung on to her fingers.

At the bedroom door Lorraine gripped the handle and slowly, carefully turned. Somewhere along the way her hands started to tremble. She eased the door open an inch and pressed her ear to the crack.

No sound.

Pushing hair away from her face, she opened the door further. Lorraine nudged ahead of Tammy, leaned her head out the doorway, and looked toward the living room.

Martin sprawled on his back at the edge of the hall, both arms flung out. Blood streaked his face and covered his hair, puddling beneath his head.

Lorraine’s mind flew into a thousand pieces. She rushed forward, leaving Tammy behind. At her husband’s side she fell to her knees. A black, bloody hole gaped in Martin’s jaw, a second in his forehead. She gripped his shoulders, shaking, shaking. “Martin. Martin! ” His head lolled in rhythm with her yanks, the eyelids half open and unmoving. Beneath them lay nothing but cold frosted glass.

“Daddyyyy!” Tammy ran up the hall and threw herself down next to Martin’s head, smearing blood on her pink pajama pants, her arms. The sight was too horrific to bear. Lorraine shoved up and wrenched Tammy away. The little girl kicked and screamed, loud, long shrieks that sizzled in Lorraine’s brain.

She craned her head toward Martin. He didn’t move.

No, no, no, no, no.

The world tilted. It was falling through space and Lorraine had to get off. Clutching Tammy in her arms, she tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. An unseen force shoved at the small of her back. She stumbled past Martin onto the carpet, through the living room. The front door bulged and contracted as if sucked by a giant wind. An eternity passed before Lorraine reached it. Tammy wailed in her ear as she fumbled for the knob, her seizuring fingers unable to turn it. Three times her hand slipped off, the voices in her head shrieking accusations. She’d known, she’d heard, and she’d sat in the closet, too afraid to come out.

Lorraine’s palm gripped the handle. She flung the door back and burst out into the fresh and sunny April day, screaming.

TWENTY-TWO