Leah paused, looked at me cautiously, then told me everything.
She repeated the story that had been confessed to her by Rob. The longer she spoke, the more empty I felt. My body submerged into a state of shock. Her voice trailed off as if she were speaking to me through a long and dark tunnel, her cadence echoing into nothingness. Certain buzzwords stuck out to me: “Your parents…” Leah said. “Rosie…tuition money…Rob…your parents…me…”
I collapsed to my hands and knees. Leah’s voice continued penetrating through my cloud of disbelief. “Are you okay? Dani, look at me! I’m begging you to please answer me.”
Eventually, I couldn’t hear Leah anymore. I couldn’t hear anything. The weight of the truth was too heavy. My sense of hearing vanished. All sound was ripped from my ear drums, which could only detect a high-pitched shrill that rang like nails on a chalkboard in my head.
Then, complete silence took over.
I couldn’t hear anything when blue and red police lights flashed through the windows of the abandoned motel. I couldn’t hear anything when the police busted through the front door, shattering the glass windows. When two armed officers entered, a police woman looked at Leah and me, spoke into her radio receiver, and gestured for her partner to search upstairs.
EMTs arrived fast. As they approached, they wheeled a stretcher toward me. I was still cuddled up to Leah on the floor. The EMTs had to fight me away from her. I gripped her hand until I was snatched away from her, our fingers still reaching for each other as the medics rolled me out the door.
I still couldn’t hear anything when a harsh, swinging light shined over me in the ambulance truck. I stared blankly upward, lifeless and numb. My parents had deceived me. My only close friend had attempted to take my life. Leah had assured me that everything would be alright, but I felt certain that I would never be alright again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isuffered from a sprained ankle, countless bruises all over my body, and a gash on my lip that required stitches. While I was admitted into the hospital, I didn’t allow visitors. My parents had made several attempts to meet with me, but I refused to speak to them. They had tried to argue with the hospital staff to let them see me, but security wouldn’t let them through. They were furious, of course. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t sure if or when I’d ever be able to look into their eyes again.
Leah had explained to me that my parents didn’t actually want her dead. They wanted her and me to be broken up, and Rosie took the plan to severe extremes on her own. Still, I would never be able to fully forgive my parents for what happened. I was always taught to value forgiveness, but what my parents had done, what they had stolen from me, was unforgivable. Their need for control and authority was toxic poison in my life. Even if I attempted to make peace with what happened, the only way to move on would be to cut off communication with them.
My parents, Rosie, and Rob were all arrested for kidnapping, assault, attempted murder, and another long list of crimes that brought tears to my eyes when I read them in the newspaper. Rob had suffered from a shallow gunshot wound in the thigh. He will be moved to maximum security prison after it heals.
By the time I was released from the hospital, all four of them were incarcerated. I imagined my parents somehow finding a way out of this. They always managed to pay their way out of trouble. They were probably in the process of hiring one of the nation’s top lawyers to represent them in trial.
Four days after returning home, and after spending long hours explaining the story to the police, I sat in my apartment. It was quieter than it had been in years. No loud music blared through Rosie’s now empty bedroom. Tranquil silence floated through the walls. Morning sunlight shimmered through the windows. I pushed one of the windows open a crack, allowing an earthy breeze to drift inside.
Fred, Leah’s cat, sat in front of my feet and beamed up at me.
“Hungry?” I asked him.
He licked his lips in response.
As I filled his glass bowl with cat food, there came a knock at the door.
I opened the door to find Leah standing on the welcome mat, her hair tied into a braid and her loose flannel blowing in the morning breeze. I gestured to her to come inside. She still appeared thin and emaciated, but the purple bags under her eyes had faded. Color had returned to her cheeks.
Without saying a word, she spread open her arms and enveloped me in a hug. I shut my eyes and rested my chin on her shoulder, feeling safe and somewhat content for the first time in weeks. I inhaled deeply, breathing in her warmth.
When she finally released me, she glanced at Fred and knelt down to pet him. “Thanks for taking care of him for me,” she said to me.
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “What was it like being locked in that room for so long? Did you have any idea where you were?”
“Not for a while,” Leah replied. “I was so loopy from the anesthetic that nothing felt real. It was like a long, drawn-out nightmare. It’s a blur now.”
I went silent, feeling at a loss for what to say. I couldn’t imagine the horrors Leah had endured. “Have you spoken to your mom?” I asked after a beat.
Leah shrugged. “A little. She’s in the process of applying for a free healthcare program that she’s eligible for.”
“Well that’s good, right?”
“It means I shouldn’t have to hide money from her anymore,” Leah said. “She was right. I did keep a safe in the basement of the motel, but I had taken all the money out last month.”
“What for?” I asked curiously.
“I had put together a savings fund for a trip to Europe. Before our argument at the beach house, I planned on asking you to come with me.”
A single tear fell, leading to a steady stream that rolled down my cheeks. I wiped them away with my hand, feeling exhausted. I’d cried so much in the last two weeks that I wondered how I had any tears left. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be.” Leah took a step toward me. She touched my chin lightly, tilting my head toward her own. She gazed softly into my eyes. “You saved me, Dani. If it weren’t for you, I may never have lived through this.”
“But…”
“I’m sorry I’ve pinned so much blame on you over the years,” Leah said as she wiped away my tears with her thumbs. “I let myself believe that we were simply not right for each other anymore. I thought our lives didn’t make sense together, and that we would inevitably drift apart. I didn’t know that all the while, it was your parents who wanted us to be apart.” She slid her hands to both my shoulders, holding me gently.
“You warned me about Rosie and I didn’t listen. I should have trusted your instincts.”
“I forgive you,” Leah said as she reached down and held both my hands. “If it’s not too late, I’d like to ask you to be my girlfriend again. We can start over and rewrite our story how we want to.”
I squeezed Leah’s hands gently, then offered a rueful grin. “I want to say yes, but I don’t know if that’s what both of us need right now.”
“Why not?”
“I’m checking myself into a recovery program,” I said. “It’s an impatient program, so I’ll have to have things packed up by tonight. I need to work out what’s been hurting me for the last couple years. So much has been wrong in my head. I need to address it.”
Anguish sunk across Leah’s eyes. “How long?”
“As long as it takes for me to get clean. The minimum is thirty days.”
Despite the pain and heartache that shadowed her expression, Leah smiled lovingly. “Take as long as you need. I’m proud of you.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her. “I love you,” I told her. “I always have, but I don’t expect you to wait for me.”
Leah replied, “But I will.”
“Maybe you can even seek out professional help for yourself. I know you don’t like accepting help from others, but…” With my head resting on her chest, I looked up at her, expecting her to protest.
To my surprise, she nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
I smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.
Chapter Twenty-Six - Ninety Days Later
Isat in a group of five women who were all seated in a circle of chairs. We were all of different ages. Some had recently been admitted into the program. Others had been residing at the treatment center for almost a year. Together, we were a melting pot of emotional trauma, addiction, and abuse. What we all had in common was a sense of hope and determination.
Dr. Plotts, my therapist, was seated to my right. With her notepad on her lap and her legs crossed, she addressed the group, “Let’s all congratulate Danielle on her last day.”
The five women all offered smiles and nods of support.
“Would you like to share your story with the group?” Dr. Plotts asked. “I know it’s been a long journey for you.”
I cleared my throat and shifted in my chair. I’d been preparing for this moment all week. Over the course of the last ninety days, Dr. Plotts had been asking me the same question over and over again. She asked me why I abused alcohol. I struggled for months to find a clear reason. It wasn’t until today that I felt prepared to answer honestly. Leaning forward in my seat, I spoke to the group. “Well, I used to tell myself that I abused alcohol because I was around it so much,” I began. “That’s how it is when you’re in college. I’ll be honest. I also liked the taste. Beer was always my favorite, until I started drinking seltzers.”
A few of the women chuckled in response.
“Then, when my girlfriend went missing, I started to spiral. I drank at night, I drank in the afternoon. I even drank first thing in the morning. I hated being sober. Everything felt too heavy. My thoughts were too loud. I blamed my drinking on the state of panic I was in at the time. I thought my girlfriend had been murdered, and I was overcome with guilt because I blamed myself for what happened. But after a little digging, I came to realize that there was a deeper reason for my behavior.” I paused and glanced at Dr. Plotts, who offered a supportive nod. “Drinking made it easier to push away the questions I didn’t want to ask myself,” I went on. “My whole life, I’ve been yanked in different directions. I sometimes felt like a puppet, and my parents were pulling the strings above me. When I went to college, the same pattern continued. I blocked the voice in my head that asked me to be brave. To speak up. To fight for what I believed in. I let everyone else in my life push me around. So when Leah went missing, I felt this tremendous guilt. I came to believe that if I had fought for her like I should have done all along, she never would have slipped through my fingers in the first place.”
I put my head in my hands, and the woman beside me placed a soothing hand on the small of my back.
“You’ve come a long way,” she said.
“It’s been ninety days since I’ve had a drink,” I said.
A small chorus of applause erupted around the circle.
“After I leave today, I plan on packing up my car and going on a road trip,” I said. “I wanna see Canada and maybe Alaska. I’m gonna write about my experience, too.” With a sentimental grin, I added, “I used to dream about starting a travel blog, but for this trip, I’m bringing a journal. For the first time in my life, I’m doing something just for me.”
The women in the circle smiled and congratulated me. Beside me, my therapist shed a tear.
• • •
After checking out of the facility, I threw my suitcase into the trunk of my car. Once on the road, I proceeded in the direction of Peter’s diner. As I turned onto the highway, an incoming call grabbed my attention. My phone was connected to the vehicle’s bluetooth system. When I answered the call, a woman’s voice drifted through my car speakers.
“An inmate from Allenwood Correctional Institution is trying to contact you. Will you accept the call? If yes, please press pound.”
My finger rested above the pound button of my iPhone. I hadn’t spoken to my mother, and since I’d been admitted into the recovery program, she had been trying to reach me every week. All of her calls went on unanswered.
I stared at my phone screen for a conflicting moment, then pressed pound.
“Danielle?” my mother asked.
“If you’re calling to ask for forgiveness, you won’t get it,” I said. “What you’ve done is unforgivable.”
“I know,” she said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I’m just glad to hear your voice.”
I clenched my jaw and fixed my gaze on the road. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Well, I’m hoping to be released soon. Our lawyer has already worked out a plan to shorten our sentence. After all, your father and I never expected the situation to get so out of hand. It’s not entirely our fault.”
“But you caused it,” I said. “If it weren’t for you and Dad, Leah never would have been kidnapped. Your actions ruined my life, and you ruined hers.”
“You don’t have to be dramatic.”
“Dramatic?! How could you even… How dare you?!” I blared, then remembered my therapist’s lessons about anger. I inhaled deeply through my nostrils, then went on, “I hope you can someday learn how to live and let go. Controlling everything and everyone around you will never lead to happiness.”
“Don’t begin lecturing me,” she said. “The last thing I need is a lecture from a twenty-two year old.”
“Fine. Then there’s nothing else to say to you. Goodbye, Mother.”
Without another word, I hung up the phone.
When I pulled into the diner parking lot, I waited for Leah to appear through the exit door. Sitting in my parked BMW, I checked my watch. Her shift would be over within the next twenty minutes.
When she finally emerged, dressed in a stained apron, her hair tied into a loose, disheveled braid, I stepped out of my car.
She didn’t see me at first.
“Hey!” I called over.
When her gaze found mine across the parking lot, a smile crept across her lips. She rushed toward me and pulled me into a hug. “You look amazing,” she said, beaming. We hadn’t seen each other in person in three months. We hadn’t spoken on the phone, either. The only form of communication was a handwritten letter from Leah. In the letter, she told me that she was proud of me and that she loved me.
“How are you?” she asked. “Do you feel better? I mean…do you feel happier?”
“I’m not out of the woods yet,” I replied. “After everything that happened, discovering the truth about my parents… I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person I used to be. The past can’t be undone.”
Leah’s mouth sunk into a deep frown.
“But, the thing is…” I continued. “I’m not sure if I want to be the person I used to be.”
After her lips cracked into a soft grin, Leah said, “You can be whoever you want.”
“So can you.”
“I’ve been seeing a therapist as well,” Leah said. “I can actually afford it now that my mom’s medical bills aren’t piled up on my kitchen counter.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I said. “I missed you.”
I traced my thumb along the edge of her jaw. She closed her eyes and melted into my touch, as if she had missed the feeling of my hands on her skin. She leaned toward me and kissed me. I returned the kiss with passion, her lips soft against mine and her arms wrapped warmly around my torso. She squeezed me and lifted me an inch above the ground. The light summer breeze whistled around us. A wave of tingles rippled throughout my body, starting in my chest and spreading to my toes.
When she pulled away from the kiss, the warmth of her lips lingered.
With her forehead pressed against my own, she asked, “What now?”
“I was thinking we could go for a drive together.”
“Sure,” she said.
“A long one. Like, several weeks long.”
Leah looked at me with wide, interested eyes. “A road trip? Me and you? When?”
I hesitated. “…Today?”
A light chuckle bubbled up from her chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
With an arched eyebrow, I asked, “Is that a yes?”
“Will you take me to my apartment so I can pack?”
With a smile, I led her toward my car. After Leah sat in the passenger seat and I took position behind the wheel, I ignited the engine.
I put the car in drive and sped forward. After five years of being tugged apart, the two of us cruised forward on a single plane, side by side. I looked forward to the long drive ahead of us.
THE END
Shelter in the Dark Page 18
