I found a small home in Memphis, Tennessee and paid cash for it, my Audi convertible, and four years of tuition. I’m going to study Psychology. I put another half million in the stock market, in case I ever have need for a ridiculously large rainy day fund. The rest of my bank account, a grand total of seven hundred thousand dollars, I gave to Annie. I put half of it in a trust for her to receive at age twenty-one, the rest went to her parents and “Angel”—the kitten we adopted that one Wednesday morning. It was a small price to pay for my freedom and my salvation. As much as I may have rescued Annie, she rescued me even more. And I had needed rescuing so, so badly.
CHAPTER 58: Jeremy Bryant
I tackled Jeremy, his body hitting the hard snow, breath whooshing out of him in one pathetic groan. “Come on!” he wheezed, wrapping his arms around me, rolling on top of me, his red face above mine, cold snow now encasing me. He looked down at me, his cheeks red from the air, eyes playful, and bits of snow stuck to his eyelashes. He was stunningly gorgeous, and utterly in love with me. It shone from every pore, was present in every gentle touch, sweet kiss, and thoughtful gesture. I stuck my tongue out at him and grinning, he leaned down and took my mouth, capturing my tongue and tormenting it with his own. I finally broke loose and squealed, squirming out from his body and crawled away, reaching for his niece, Olivia. She held out her hand, gripping mine with a lion’s ferocity and tried to help me up, pull me to my feet. But he captured us both, tumbling us into an inescapable embrace and we giggled in defiance, beating his strong arms with our mitten encased fists, screaming for mercy until he finally released us.
We ran, the three of us, up the hill and to my home, where chicken parmesan and a movie awaited us. It was, as much as I could ever imagine, a perfect life.
That night after I rescued Annie, Jeremy was outside my door when I returned home, sitting on the orange carpet in the hall of my complex. It was late; I had driven straight through the day, my bones exhausted and eyes drooping. He stood when he saw me, his strong arms reaching for me and crushing me into a hug—a hug that I didn’t want, and didn’t need, until the moment I was touched. I sank into his grasp, the strength of his embrace fortifying me, the affection so foreign, so forgotten, that I almost cried from the sheer beauty of it. I had been alone so long, scared of myself and for myself, so deprived of so many freedoms. His hug broke me, broke every wall I had built, dam I had constructed, and weight I carried. He supported me, his arms strong around me. He lifted me up with his arms, propping me against the wall as his eyes found my face, worry and concern in them.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes sweeping my body, checking and reassuring him that I was in one piece.
“Please, hold me.” The words spilled from me, uncontrolled—a tidal wave of emotion pushing in every direction out of my body, tears plummeting down my face.
He stared at me wordlessly, and then leaned over, lifting me easily in his strong arms, and carried me inside.
Jeremy helped me to undress, his eyes respectfully looking the other way as I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt. Then he tucked me into bed, holding me in his strong arms as I curled to one side, my body perfectly tucked into his. I had never been held in this way, and the last thought, as my mind sank into slumber, was that I never wanted to leave this spot again.
I slept for two days, woken occasionally by my bladder or stomach. Jeremy always there, his strong presence filling in the void left by my weak one. And then, on day three, I was back.
I think that maybe God had a plan for me all along. When I plunged that knife into Ralph’s neck, that desire left me. Watching the light die in Ralph’s eyes, my own murderous intentions died as well, both spirits leaving our bodies and traveling with evil in common, up and away from the ruined shells we were.
I’m not saying that God approves of killing, approves of taking another’s life, no matter how you twist the circumstances and justify it clean. But I don’t feel that he necessarily disapproved of my actions. They say God giveth, and he taketh away. Well the night of my mother’s carnage, he gave me the urge to kill. That urge stayed, and my fear of it caused my isolation, which caused me to cam, which caused me to meet Ralph, which led to circumstances of me tracking Annie down. And then, it was taken away. For the first time, in a long time, I felt like me again. Like the bubbly, extroverted girl that I had once been, and had been playing every time I powered on my webcam. It felt damn good to be back.
I don’t know what is going to happen with Jeremy. I don’t know whether he is my “happily ever after” or not. But I know he makes me smile, and I know he loves me—the ‘fucked up, I’ll kill you with your own box cutters’ me.
THE END