every night when I first moved here returns. I turn quickly in my seat and feel my heart racing. The sound of blood rushing through my ears is all I can hear. When I first moved here, I was terrified the Cassanos would find me. But they didn’t. It took a long time for me to feel safe, and an even longer time for the nightmares to stop, but it's all over now. I breathe in deep and concentrate on relaxing.
I settle my back against the seat, thinking I'm just being paranoid. A thought occurs to me. Maybe this is my survival instinct warning me. The idea causes a row of goosebumps to travel down my arms. But just like all of the anxiety I’ve dealt with this week, I push it down and chalk it up to my nerves.
I place the teacup down gently on the table and stand up, stretching slightly and covering my mouth as I yawn. The blanket slips off my shoulders, and a chill runs through my body. I’m quick to pull it back up to cover me and grip it close. Fall must be coming. It’s the change of the season that’s throwing me off. I close my eyes and listen harder. Some noises are faint, but they’re still present. I just need to relax and accept the approaching transition from summer to autumn. Some things can’t be helped.
Still, I check the locks at the front door twice after depositing my cup in the sink. Being alone in a cabin in the country isn’t the smartest thing for a young woman on her own. My options for disappearing and starting a new life were limited though, and when you want to hide, it's best to be far away and alone.
I move the curtain away from the large window in the front room and look down the gravel driveway, seeing nothing. The grass is tall and needs to be mowed. I sigh and again the throw slips, but it’s warmer inside the main part of the house, so I let it drape over the crook in my arm.
My bed is made and I can’t wait to sink into it and drift to sleep, but I need to check over my email and messages one last time before I can pass out. The one good thing about my job is that I can do it from anywhere. When I first moved here, I had to stop working on anything associated with my real name. My blog, my columns and articles, anything else tied to my online presence, you name it—done. I was crushed. I had been a renowned book reviewer, beta reader, and part-time writer. The money was great, but I would have loved it all regardless of the pay.
I had to say goodbye to my former life though because the Cassano familia could have found me that way. The mafia that saw me as a rat could have easily tracked me down if I'd continued working under my real name, and it wasn't worth it.
So I started over under a pen name, and it’s going better than I ever imagined it could. The experience and knowledge that I gained in my former life helped me tremendously. Now I'm firmly established in the industry, and I'm doing even better than I was before.
This is my life now--books and tea in a remote cabin in the woods. I love it, but lately it’s felt empty. I could go on like this, feeling as though I’m living a full life, but I’m so alone. I wanted nothing more than to be by myself when I was running and hiding. But now I find myself questioning if I’ll ever have anyone real in my life, and anything substantial.
I’ve thought about getting a dog—a big one, to help make me feel secure. A dog's love is unconditional. I want that love desperately. I need it from someone, or something. But a dog would need walks and interaction, plus dogs have to be taken to the vet. Those are all opportunities for people to see me. I don't want that. I want to stay hidden. I need to stay hidden. But I do need companionship. I've been craving it more and more as I've settled into this new life.
At least I have my business. I have my blogging, my books, and my friends, even if they're all online. I almost didn’t start over. I almost gave up and poured my heart