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“It’ll be easier for me to carry you down. Is that okay?” the officer with the jet-black hair and thick black mustache said.

I nodded, then closed my eyes as he lifted me into his arms. My body trembled in fear at his touch.

He was too close. Way too close. My heart raced, and I reminded myself that I needed him to get out of here.

My ankle was too sore, and I felt too weak to make it down those stairs alone.

I cringed when I thought of what I must’ve looked like to them, what I must’ve smelled like since I hadn’t washed anything in days.

When death is your final destination, taking care of yourself is the last thing on your mind.

We were halfway down when the front door ushered in sunlight, which felt like a guide to my freedom. The officer walked slowly and carefully when all I wanted was for him to run, sprint if he had to, to get me through that door and out of this house.

As soon as my eyes hit the sunlight, I shielded them with my hand.

It took a few minutes for them to adjust. The last time I was outside was a few days before Adam left.

Once a week, he’d take me out in the backyard so I could walk around and get some air.

I never imagined a life where going outside in a secluded backyard would be the highlight of my week.

Adam never let me out of his sight. Maybe he thought I’d find a way to climb the wooden fence that looked as high as the trees.

Once I was off the porch and in the yard, I turned around and looked at the house that had held me against my will all those years.

I lifted my gaze to that window. How many times had I pressed my hands against it, yearning for this moment?

Now that it had come, there weren’t enough words to describe the mixture of emotions that swirled inside me.

The officer slowly placed me on my feet but wrapped his arm around mine to help keep me steady.

I looked around and took in everything. The sun’s brightness welcomed me back to a world stolen from me.

I unwrapped my arm from the police officer’s, then bent and picked up a rock.

A rock. I hadn’t held a rock in fifteen years.

It was smooth and beautiful. I squeezed it in the palm of my hand, then rubbed my fingers over it.

I limped over to the side, ignored the pain in my ankle, bent down, and rubbed my hand over the prickly grass.

I thought of the dead grass and dirt in Adam’s backyard before closing my eyes and releasing more tears as I continued rubbing, feeling the moisture from the early-morning dew.

Each touch. Each sight. Each sound and every smell, even from the cows in the pasture behind the house, was a reminder that I was free.

Out of everything around me, the sky had drawn me in the most. It was so blue with the fluffiest, whitest clouds I’d ever seen.

As I enjoyed its beauty, a couple of birds joined the celebration by circling ahead.

It was as if they sensed that something special had happened.

I watched as they flew off. They could go wherever they wanted to go.

It was strange and magical to be able to say that I could now do the same.

For everyone else, today was just a normal day. The fresh air, the warmth of the sun, the smooth and rough textures of the rocks, the soft yet prickly grass—all of it was mundane, nothing special.

Before I was lifted into the ambulance, I turned around and looked one final time. There was no way I’d ever set foot in that place again. When I turned back around, it symbolized my thoughts from that day forward. All I wanted was to focus on my new life. My second chance with the people I loved.

Machines beeped, footsteps pounded against the floor, doors banged shut and creaked open, and the voices .

.. so many voices from so many directions.

Had things always been this loud? Had there always been so much noise?

I sat alone in the hospital room, gripping the rough fabric from the blanket.

My feet hung over the side of the bed because there was no way I was lying down.

There was no way I would “get some rest,” as the doctor suggested.

My eyelids were heavy, but I had to stay awake.

Thoughts of closing my eyes and waking up in that house again tortured me, and the only way to make sure that didn’t happen was by watching everyone who came near me.

My heart raced with each beep, each step, each creak as they grew louder and louder in my ears.

I didn’t need to be checked out by a doctor.

I didn’t want to stay in a hospital. I wanted to go home.

That was it. Nothing else. I didn’t want to answer any more questions about Adam or how he’d snatched me from the hotel in Biloxi and brought me an hour away to his house in Picayune.

None of it mattered. He lived like a coward and died like one too.

Silencing my mouth was easier than quieting my mind.

The day I met Adam was a day I refused to think about until now.

I thought he was a godsend. That was what I told him when he sat next to me at the banquet table.

My husband had just started his job as an insurance agent, and the agency he worked for hosted a weekend training every year that ended with a banquet.

I hated the thought of leaving our daughter, Skye, who was only two years old at the time, but it was something I had to do.

My husband and I were going through a rough patch—a very rough patch—but Mama assured me that all couples went through it at one point.

I could never imagine Mama and Daddy going through any rough patches, though.

As much as I dreaded leaving Skye, I dreaded the thought of a broken marriage even more.

So, I kissed my sweet little baby, promised to be back before she knew it, and drove away.

Adam wasn’t in the insurance business but attended the conference with his sister.

As soon as he sat down, he asked if I was having as much fun as he was.

I thought he was serious until I looked at him and saw him rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

He provided a laugh that eased the pain of missing my baby.

Sunday, which was the next day, couldn’t come fast enough for me.

Adam and I weren’t there to network and learn, so while my husband and Adam’s sister were away from the table, chatting with colleagues, we spent most of the evening at the table talking to each other.

The mood changed from joyful to sorrowful when Adam shared that his wife had passed last year.

After offering my condolences, I immediately wondered if he was ready to date or if it was too soon.

I thought he’d make a good companion for my mother-in-law.

He was her type, chestnut brown, with salt-and-pepper hair, clean-shaven, and in pretty good shape, from what I could tell through his suit.

Later that night, after a huge fight with Quinton, I needed time alone. I didn’t give it a second thought when Adam slid onto the empty stool next to me at the bar in the hotel. The conference was held there, and it was where all the attendees stayed, so his being there wasn’t alarming.

All that night, I’d entertained a devil disguised as an angel.

As I sat on the hospital bed, I couldn’t stop thinking of the unfairness of it all.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Adam wasn’t supposed to die like that.

He was supposed to suffer the way he’d made me suffer.

He was supposed to spend the rest of his life locked away like I’d been.

I was supposed to stand in the courtroom and tell him how disgusting he was.

I needed him to know that I only said I loved him all those times because he made me.

I could never ... would never ... love a pathetic piece of man like him.

I needed him to suffer, but he was gone, and I’d never have the chance to say those words to him or to see the look on his face when I expressed the joy I felt at the thought of him rotting in hell.

For years, I dreamed of the day when I could use the voice he’d tried to silence as a weapon against him. But he’d taken that from me, too, because he was dead. He was really dead.

Detective Cox came in and sat in a chair next to my bed.

Until a few minutes ago, she hadn’t left my side since she arrived at the hospital.

She was a tall, thin woman with a beautiful face, but I couldn’t say the same about her hair.

It was a big puff ball that sat on top of her head.

I touched my hair, which was also in desperate need of care.

At least I had an excuse.

“Nova.” Detective Cox’s voice demanded my attention. “I called your parents’ house using the number you gave me.” She smiled. “That’s amazing that you remembered it after all these years. It’s even more amazing that they still have it. Most people don’t have house phones anymore.”

“I repeated that phone number every day. I needed to be able to call my family when I escaped.”

Detective Cox nodded as if she understood, but there was no way that she or anyone else could understand what it was like knowing that your only companion was a notebook and four walls.

No one knew what it was like living in a world where time didn’t exist and one day bled into the next.

Detective Cox had no idea what it was like to live the same day over and over for years.

Breakfast with Adam. Lunch with Adam. Dinner with Adam.

Bed with Adam. I flinched at the memory of his rough, calloused hands roaming over my body.

“Are you okay?” Detective Cox asked.

I nodded, but I was far from okay. “Did you talk to them? Did you tell my mom and dad that I’m okay?” I asked, holding my breath as I waited for her to speak.

Detective Cox nodded. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get an answer.”

A heaviness came over me. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

“Do you need anything? Some water?” She reached for the pink plastic jug of water on the nightstand.

“I just wanna go home,” I whispered through my tears.

“I spoke with someone at the Bayou sheriff’s department, and they’re going to deliver the good news to your family. In fact, they’re probably talking as we speak.”

I rubbed my hands back and forth against the cover, then turned away from Detective Cox. I stared out the window and smiled at the thought that soon, I’d get to see my family again.

“I found your sister’s Facebook page. Her personal page is private, but I did find her business page.” Detective Cox spoke as her head lowered to the same black, flat, rectangle device that Shelia said was a phone, except the one Detective Cox held was bigger.

My mind was foggy as I struggled to understand words that were so familiar to everyone else. Face book? I kept trying to make them make sense. I knew what a face was, and I knew what a book was, but I didn’t know what a face book was. A book of different faces?

“Oh my goodness.” Detective Cox shook her head. “I’m so sorry. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

I looked away as humiliation vibrated through me. I didn’t care about no stupid book with faces anyway. But I did care about Leah, and if her face was in that book, I wanted to see it. “Can I see Leah?” I asked.

“Of course.” Detective Cox turned the black thing around and extended her arm toward me. I scrambled to the other side of the bed, my fingers clawing at the sheets. I pressed my head against the headboard and curled my body into a tight ball. I tasted the fear that rose inside me.

“It’s okay, Nova.” Another voice had entered the room, but I couldn’t look.

“Nova, it’s Dr. Lee.” His voice broke through the wall of fear that surrounded me. “That’s it, Nova. Deep breaths.”

I did as Dr. Lee instructed. Slowly, my fingers uncurled. The more breaths I took, the lighter my body became.

“Very good,” Dr. Lee continued in the same soothing voice. “You’re safe here, Nova. No one’s going to hurt you. Everyone is here to help you. You understand?”

I turned my head in his direction and nodded.

“Good.” He looked at Detective Cox and held out his hand. She gave the black thing to him. “This is an iPad. It’s a device that’s like a cell phone or a laptop. It can’t hurt you. Can I give it to you so you can see your sister?” he asked, holding the iPad toward me.

I looked at it, then at Dr. Lee, before I nodded again.

As soon as I saw her, I knew it was Leah. That was my sister. My Leah. She looked like Mama. I couldn’t take my eyes off her fancy red dress and pearls. Her wavy hair was slicked back, showing off her high cheekbones and beautiful smile. She’s so pretty.

Through my tears, I read that Leah was a therapist. That didn’t surprise me.

Leah was one of those people who always knew what she wanted to do in life.

I was probably her first patient. I may have been the oldest, but Leah was the mature one.

She had her hands full, trying to keep me out of trouble.

As I stared at the picture, a memory flashed through my mind.

Leah and I had convinced Mama to let us camp in the backyard.

Leah hated being outside and the thought of sleeping out there even more, but she did it for me.

I couldn’t remember anything she didn’t do for me, even if it meant putting her wants and needs aside.

A knot formed in my throat as I closed my eyes and saw Leah and me on our backs, gazing at the stars.

We used to love to talk about our futures.

Leah wanted to be a doctor, and I wanted to marry Michael Jordan.

I could still hear my sister’s small eight-year-old voice telling me how amazing my life would be.

In Leah’s eyes, there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do, including marrying Michael Jordan.

When I opened my eyes, Leah was gone. The screen was black. I lifted my head to Detective Cox as I shook the iPad and touched it, but nothing brought Leah back.

“I can fix it.” Detective Cox reached for the iPad.

“I don’t want it anymore.” I lay down and faced the wall. The ache for Leah had grown so much since I’d been out that I could hardly breathe. Leah was as important to me as air, and I needed her more than ever before. If Leah said everything would be okay, then I’d believe it.