Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,108

my chest started to fade. I could breathe without gasping.

I felt important.

Needed.

Loved.

And that’s the best feeling in the world.

Then one day, the doorbell rang. I didn’t know what day it was. Time was starting to blend together and I didn’t care.

I opened the door. “Renee!” I greeted her with a smile.

She stared at me with visible shock. “Hi.” When she saw Evelyn in my arms, her smile faded. Fast.

“Come in.” I opened the door wider. “Come in. Meet Evelyn.”

She stepped inside but kept her distance. “Who is this?”

“My daughter,” I said proudly.

“Your daughter,” she repeated.

I glanced over at her. “Yes,” I said again slowly.

Renee dropped her purse and stared at me with wide eyes. She looked nervous and terrified.

“What’s wrong?” I held Evelyn tighter. “You’re scaring me.”

She didn’t reply, just grabbed my shoulders, her grip impossibly tight. “We need to get you out of this house.”

“I’m fine. I have Evelyn.”

“Right you have Evelyn. But don’t you want Evelyn to see the outdoors?”

I hesitated and stared down at Evelyn. “I don’t know….”

“Well, I do.” Renee looped her arm through mine and tried to drag me out the door. I stubbornly stayed put.

“I can’t leave,” I said. “Evelyn needs her car seat.”

Renee sighed. “Okay. Let’s get her in her car seat.”

“I need to pack her diaper bag.”

Renee smiled wanly. “Sure. You do all that stuff.”

I hurried around the house, gathering everything I would need. In the front closet was the car seat. I pulled it out and very gently buckled in Evelyn. She momentarily cried at not being held. I smiled and kissed her cheek.

“All right,” Renee said, her voice surprisingly high. “Are you ready to go?”

I stood up and lifted Evelyn’s car seat. “Yep.”

When I stepped outside, I immediately wanted to go back inside. I could feel someone’s eyes on me, watching every step I took. I looked around in paranoia and hurried to the car, strapping Evelyn in and double-checking to make sure she was okay.

I slammed the car door and hurriedly got in the front seat. Before I buckled up, I twisted around to check on Evelyn again.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Renee backed out of the driveway. “I want to show you this place that I found. I think you’ll really like it.”

“What’s it called?”

When the car was in drive she answered me, looking at me very solemnly. “Fairfax. I think you’ll like it.”

November 2015

Last memory. Last moment.

Last everything.

This is my finish line. But there’s no celebration.

The truth that I’ve spent days and months suppressing slams into me as hard as it can. I fall to my knees as a guttural cry escapes my mouth. “Oh God, oh God,” I moan. “My baby.”

In my arms is Evelyn. Finally, I see her for what she is. Just a plastic baby doll with lifeless eyes and a perpetual smile on her face.

Abruptly, I drop the baby to the floor and watch her fall.

This doll is not my daughter. The one that belonged to me was killed. I lift my head. All because of this man.

Everything inside me aches. It’s impossible to breathe without clutching my chest. Hunched over, I close my eyes. I want to scream the pain out of my body, but it’s futile; if anything the agony just multiplies.

“Stop screaming.” Wes is pacing, staring at me with a blank look.

It’s all too much. Sinclair is beside me. I’m in such a state of shock, I can’t move.

I think I’m paralyzed.

“Stop screaming, stop screaming, stop fucking screaming!” Wes rushes toward me and I shrink backward until my back slams into the wall.

Sinclair holds out a hand. “Wes, let’s talk calmly.”

“I’m calm,” he says and smiles as though we’re all having a small get-together. “I’m perfectly calm. But she”—he points an accusing finger at me—“isn’t. And now I can’t think straight.”

I thought that things couldn’t possibly get worse. The loss of my child was enough to send me spiraling downward. Even now I fight the urge not to retreat from the memories and ignore them altogether.

“Why did you do it?” I ask, my voice choking on the words.

Sinclair steps forward. “Victoria, listen to me—”

Wes stops pacing and turns his attention to Sinclair, the tip of the knifepoint right at his chest. My blood turns cold.

“Why is the sky blue? Why do we need oxygen to live? You could drive yourself crazy trying to find out all the answers but just know this: It had to happen. Yet you can’t seem to realize that. All you choose to see is that