“So, uh, can I shoot my new gun?”
I laughed and pulled my jeans back on. “By all means, go ahead.”
She gave me a strange half smile then walked into the stall, put on her hearing protecting, and spent the next hour firing off round after round while I dutifully reloaded for her.
But the magic had slipped away. I don’t know how or what happened. Something went through her mind, some thought she kept hidden deep inside of her for moments like this took her away from me. Or maybe it was the sheer fact of our situation, that I was more or less her captor, that I was keeping her in chains for my own self benefit.
She knows those chains are a fantasy though. She knows I won’t hurt her or her mother if she decides to run, and I never would have.
But the threat and the situation remained.
I’d have to fix that. But for now, I watched her shoot, and let myself feel content for the first time in a long time.
18
Leigh
In my post-orgasm haze, when every inch of my body felt good and all I wanted to do was melt into his arms and stay there for eternity, one thought ran through my mind: I love this monster.
And that scared the hell out of me. It scared me so much that no matter how long I spent shooting after that, it never felt right again. I never got that magic back.
I tried not to let it show but I didn’t speak to him on our drive back to his place. He dropped me off then went out again, and I spent the afternoon in the house, drifting from room to room, trying to decide what I wanted and who I was and what my future would become.
I wasn’t a captive. Not really, not anymore. I was sure of that now. He freed me earlier, freed me by admitting that he wouldn’t hurt me or my mother if I ran away. I could go now, go at any point.
I didn’t have to sell his drugs.
If I stayed, it meant I wanted to stay. Nothing held me here beyond my own will—and even if I wanted to pretend like he held some kind of sword over my head, some kid of threat, I knew that wasn’t true with certainty now.
If I stayed, it meant I wanted to stay.
That scared me so much that around three, I packed a bag and walked out into the comfortable afternoon sunlight.
It was easy to get home. I got a train and rode it north. I stared out the window and ignored my phone when it rang. I knew it would be Owain but I couldn’t talk to him right now, not when I had so much to figure out.
I got off the train at Levittown Station which was right behind Bristol Pike. I stood on the platform and stared around at the grass, the trees, the quiet movement of the suburbs, and finally took my phone out of my pocket and called my mother.
She answered after a few rings. “Leigh?”
“Hi mom.”
“Leigh, honey. I’ve been so worried. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” A stab of guilt spiked through her. After Jason, she shouldn’t have disappeared like that. She knew her mom was struggling to accept Jason’s death—she couldn’t handle her daughter disappearing as well.
“Where are you?”
“I’m actually at the train station right now. I was kid of hoping you could pick me up.”
A short silence. She could practically see her mother standing in her small Levittown kitchen like a deer, eyes wide, body still.
“Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?”
“No and no. I’m fine, honestly.” I took a deep breath and prepared to lie to her. “I’ve just been struggling with Jason dying.”
“Oh.” The word was an exhalation. “I am too sweetie. Are you at the Levittown station right now?”
“Yeah, just got here.”
“Okay. Don’t move. I’ll be there soon.”
She hung up. I slipped my phone away and leaned up against a black wrought iron railing. Mom’s brown sedan pulled in ten minutes later and the nostalgia that washed over me was almost too hard to ignore. I walked down the ramp and got into the passenger side.
My mother looked thinner than the last time I saw her. She had reddish hair, freshly dyed and cut short. Her green eyes sparkled out from a gaunt and wrinkled face. I wondered when she’d gotten so old, and guessed it was when Jason died.
“It’s good to see you.” My mom leaned over and they hugged across the center console. I felt her ribs through her long sleeve shirt.
“It’s good to see you too mom. I’m sorry I sort of disappeared there for a while.”
“Where have you been?”
“Around. Just dealing with things. The shop’s been crazy.”
Mom gave me a skeptical look but started driving. “I’m glad that’s still going well.”
I wanted to say, yes, I’m selling drugs out the back now, but figured that was a bad idea.
“Sometimes I think it’s all I have left, you know? Of Jason.”
“I know what you mean.” Mom’s gaze out the front windshield sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t imagine what Mom was going through, not really, even though I’d lost a brother.
Mom lost a son. That meant something different.
“Are you still going to church?” I asked, grasping for conversation.
The question worked though, and Mom talked about the church ladies for the whole drive. When we got back to Mom’s small Levittown house with its blue shutters and ancient brown door, I sat down at the familiar kitchen table and let Mom make some tea and sandwiches.
It felt bizarre being home. The house hadn’t changed at all since I was a little girl, and
