Page 15 of Traces Of You

“Three in nine months. The second was my jaw. I thought my jaw was broken, but it wasn’t. Oliver doesn’t even know I went. A coworker took me.”

“Reenie. People had to know. It’s so obvious.”

“I know,” she said, gulping. “And you’re the only one who ever tried to help. A twelve-year-old kid. Do you know what it’s like to not be invisible but people treat you as such?”

It amazed her the number of people who just wanted to stay out of it.

“My family would have helped too,” he said.

“I was too young to know those things. To trust them or anyone.”

He turned to look at her. His eyes were deep and troubled. Anguish in them for sure. “I thought you trusted me.”

She shook her head. “As much as two kids can.”

His mouth opened, then closed. “Tell me what happened the night you left. Why you thought it was your chance.”

Words tumbled out to him as they always did. He had a way about him to get her to confess tiny bits of her life no one else knew. “I came home from work. Someone had broken into the house. It was a mess. Oliver had been there with his cousin for at least two hours talking and doing nothing.”

“They didn’t call the police?” he asked.

“No. I told them to and they said they didn’t want them involved. It made no sense to me, but I learned to not argue much. Oliver had been on good behavior for the past two months.”

“Because he broke your arm and had people watching him,” he snarled.

“True. He was ordering me around to clean everything up after I made dinner. He acted like the house was just a mess and it was my job to fix it.”

“Did you?” he asked.

“Normally I would have, but I didn’t. I had to leave things the way they were. I cooked dinner and slipped two of his sleeping pills inside his burger. He’d had a couple of beers too. It didn’t take long for him to be out.”

“Good for you,” he said.

“Not what you’d advise people to do. I know. It’d go against everything you stand for, but I only hoped to get away. When he fell asleep so quickly, I panicked over the beer he’d had. But he was out cold. I was making noises to see if anything woke him. Dropped my dinner plate on the floor as if we’d gotten into a fight. I cut myself.”

She showed him four slices that were healing on her arms.

“Jesus. Why?”

“Blood,” she said. “I wanted enough of it. I made sure it was on the kitchen floor, my clothing, the carpet. Anywhere I could leave a trace. A bloody handprint as if I was pushed down the stairs.”

His mouth opened. “You staged it?”

“I hadn’t planned on that but thought it could work. Left my bloody clothes in the back of the closet as if he might have tried to hide it. I knew him; he’d be throwing clothes back in places without looking. He’d have no idea they had my blood all over them.”

“So when you’re reported missing today, the police are going to show up and search? I’m sure he would have cleaned any traces of the break-in and blood by now.”

“I cleaned them,” she said. “He wouldn’t have known I’d done it, but if they look for blood with those lights, they will find it as ifhewas trying to hide something.”

He huffed out a breath. “Why do this if you were leaving? It’s only going to draw more attention as people search.”

“It was to give me time to get away. To cross far into Canada where no one would hear about what was happening in Florida. But I had some car issues that set me back a day and then I’ve been trying not to be too obvious that I was traveling alone.”

“I spotted it right away,” he said. “Not even knowing who you were, it was the way you were acting.”

A sad smile filled her face. “I came here to say goodbye. The one place in my life that I felt somewhat normal. I had you to thank for that. I let my guard down and am paying for it now.”

“No,” he said. “You’re not paying for anything. He’s going to pay, but you’re safe here. I promise you that.”