know that I’m here to support you.”
“I just want it to go away,” I wail in frustration. “Not remember what happened to Ava or to me. That part of my life is over.”
“Done.” I collapse on the floor, beginning to cry. “It has to be over because if it’s not, he’s going to find me and torture me before he kills me.”
I’m not afraid of dying but of how he’d do it. Breaking me emotionally, mentally, and physically until I couldn’t continue anymore. Then maybe he might pull the trigger. Unless he decided to torture me for as long as he lives.
No matter how long I cry, the tears don’t stop. This time though, Wes scoops me into his arms. He cradles me for a long time without saying a word. I think he knows there’s nothing he can say to fix it. I’m beyond repair.
Once I’m all cried out, I finally speak, “I want to leave today.”
I move away from his hold, peeling myself off of him. If I continue depending on his strength, I won’t be able to stand on my own two feet.
“Where?”
“Denver,” I respond because I had a plan years ago that I should’ve followed through with when I saw what was happening to Ava. “Tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
“We’re staying here. You don’t have to go back.”
“I’m only going back to pack my things and change my bank accounts.” I clear my tears.
“We can have someone do all of that for you,” he says.
“No, I need my car,” I continue explaining. “Your dad left me a nice trust. I can start a new life with it. Away from the past and where no one knows me.”
“Abby, please think about this.” His face goes ashen.
“I am. I did for a long time. This is never going away, Wes.” I draw circles around my temples with my index fingers. “The PTSD as Sterling called it. Those scars are permanent. No amount of therapy will make me forget that she died because of me. That I couldn’t save her—or myself. I let them do horrible things to us.”
“She wasn’t your responsibility. You’re here, and I want to help you.” Wes sounds and looks defeated.
“Fix me,” I correct him.
“No, Abby.”
“Please, don’t lie to me. You’re already finding out about Corbin. Are you going to go to the police?”
My voice rises. It booms through the house. “You’re just calling more attention toward me. He has friends everywhere. The man’s clients are powerful—politicians visited the house. He has leverage too. Corbin taped everything. You’ll put your family in danger.”
“Abby, you can’t believe that.”
“Are you calling me delusional?” My ears ring with anger. This can’t be happening. “You don’t believe me that they are dangerous, do you?”
The one person I trusted, and he’s no different than everyone else. “Do you believe any part of what I said?”
“Of course I do,” he answers.
“Then stop what you’re doing. You’re already fixating on this, aren’t you?” I walk around the house.
“This is who you are. The guy who gets obsessed with an imperfection and tries to find a way to make it functional.” My words fall out like a frantic mess, like frenzied bees shaken out of their nest. There has to be a way to stop him. Maybe I should leave him—them. They might be in danger.
“I’m not a computer or some stupid gadget that’s broken. The good news is that I won’t be around for you to see my flaws.”
“Abby,” he marches toward me.
“Stop,” I order him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, but your duty is done. Have you stopped to think that your behavior might be hurting me?”
He stares at me. The silence sucks the air out of the room.
“Abby, please. What’s going on? You can’t think about leaving. You promised,” he says with a shaky voice. “I swore to protect you.”
“Just let me go,” I plead.
Weston takes a step back. My decision to leave isn’t a light one. I won’t be safe unless I disappear. And what if Corbin and Shaun decide to hurt Wes and his family to get to me? Am I being delusional and paranoid? My mind is in turmoil, I can’t think straight. I should just leave. A trip to Canada or Mexico might be in order. I could stay there for a few months while I look for a place to call home.
I pack a few things and call an Uber, but as I make my way to the stairs, Sterling is there holding the