The counselor's office was a small, cozy space, with a large window that overlooked garden. The soft hum of a water fountain in the background created a soothing environment . It was helpful to calm the turmoil I felt inside. Rawls squeezed my hand reassuringly as we sat down on the couch, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. The counselor, a kind-looking woman with a gentle smile, introduced herself as Dr. Laura. She began by explaining the process of grief and how it affects each person differently. "I know this is hard for both of you," she said, her voice soothing. "But talking about it can help you heal and move forward." I nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Rawls sat next to me, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of my hand. The gesture was comforting, but the fear remained, that whispered doubt in my ear. Dr. Laura began, her eyes meeting mine with a gentle insistence. "Can you tell me about the moment you found
The evening began with lighthearted conversation. The dining room table was set with my mother's fine china. The aroma of roast chicken and vegetables filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of my mother's favorite candles. Mom and Dad sat at the table, their faces beaming with pride as they watched me bring out the plates of food. The clink of silverware and the murmur of their approval as they tasted the meal I had so painstakingly prepared filled me with a warmth that was bittersweet. I knew that the revelation we were about to share would change everything. The conversation flowed easily. The laughter was genuine, the kind that fills a room and makes you feel like everything is right with the world. But beneath the surface, I felt the tension coiling in my stomach, tightening with every passing minute. I have never been so scared in my life. Mary looked over at me, her eyes filled with love and admiration. "Claire, this meal is simply delicious," she said, patting h
I decided to visit Evie before heading to work. The mental facility had suggested that she was more lucid and calm in the early hours, and I did not want to miss the chance to see her in a calmer state. I wanted her to know how much i missed her, but I also wanted her to understand the necessity of her being there. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the early morning traffic was light. My mind was racing with thoughts of Evie, wondering what she would say, how she would react. I missed my little girl, and the ache in my chest was a constant reminder of her absence. I hoped that with time and the right help, she would find peace and come back to me. When I arrived, the receptionist checked me in, and I was escorted to Evie's room. The halls were painted a light shade of blue, designed to ease anxieties, but it did not do much for my own racing heart. I haven’t seen her in days and I was not sure what to expect. When I walked into her room, she was sitting up in bed, staring o
As soon as I walked into work, I see Thelma. I can't wait to tell her about my weekend. "Claire, you are in bright and early this morning. And that is a pretty big smile on your face." Thelma looked up from her a big smile on her face. She had been my confidant through all of this, and I could tell she could see the change in me. "I have something to tell you," I said, my voice filled with excitement. "Rawls and I are back together, and we are going to make it work, no matter what anyone says." Thelma's eyes widened, and she immediately stood up, rushing over to give me a hug. "Oh, Claire, I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed. "But what about your parents?" "It's complicated," I sighed, taking a seat at my desk. "They're still upset, but I can't keep living my life to please them. I need to do what's right for me and for Rawls." "Let's go to the park for lunch and you can fill me in on all of the details." "Yes, ma'am. I can't wait." Today was one of those days
As soon as I heard the backdoor, I was so happy Claire was home. "Baby, I'm in the kitchen. How was your day?" As soon as I look at her, I know something is very wrong. Her eyes are red and puffy, and she is visibly shaking. I rush over to her, wrapping her in my arms. "What happened? Are you okay?" "It was Jonathan," she whispers, her voice trembling. "He...he attacked me in the parking lot." I pull her closer, my heart racing. "What? Are you okay?" "I...I think so," she says, her voice shaking. "I kneed him and got away. But he's so angry, Rawls. So much angrier than I ever thought he could be." My protective instincts flare up, and I hold her tighter. "You're safe now," I murmur into her hair, trying to soothe her. "Let's go into the living room and you can tell me everything." We sit down on the couch, her voice shaking as she recounts the incident. I listen, my jaw clenched, as she describes how he grabbed her and tried to kiss her against her will. The room fee
When the nurse came in this morning, I was feeling a little bit better. They were cutting back on my meds. I was going to have a group therapy session today. Guess they want me to be lucid in order for me to bare my soul. The therapist, Mrs. Hennessey, reminded me of a grandmother. She had a gentle way about her that made it easier to talk about the darkest moments of my life. But today, she was going to get more than she bargained for. The group therapy was small, only five of us, all young women with sad eyes and no smiles on their faces. We all had our reasons for being here, our own demons to face. I was the quiet one, the one who didn't say much. But today, I had to tell them. I had to get this secret off my chest. Mrs. Hennessey, the therapist, sat in the circle with us. She had a gentle smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, like she had seen too much pain in her career. "Let's start with you, Toni," she said, turning to the girl with short hair that was dyed blue.
It took everything in me to not go to Claire's office and beat the hell out of Jonathan Cramer. How dare he try to lay a hand on my woman. Makes me wonder how many other women he has tried this with. The image of Claire's tear-stained face and her trembling voice recounting the assault played over and over in my mind like a horror movie. I know I had to be smart about this. I couldn't just go in there and start throwing punches. That would only make things worse for Claire. But the urge to protect her was burning a hole in my chest. I couldn't sit around and do nothing while that scumbag was out there, breathing the same air as her. I had to come up with a plan. As the day dragged on, I found myself unable to focus on anything but the rage simmering just beneath the surface. The office felt like it was closing in on me, each tick of the clock a reminder of the injustice that had occurred. I knew I had to channel this anger into something productive. After a restless lunch,
I had trouble sleeping most of the night. I am worried about Rawls doing something to Jonathan after what happened yesterday. I love him dearly for wanting to protect me, but I don't want him to do something that will land him in jail. Claire: Thelma, I need to meet with you before we get started with work. Thelma: What's up sugar plum? Claire: It's about Jonathan. Something happened and I really need to talk about it. Thelma: Ok. Meet me at the office at 730 and we can have time before anyone else gets in. I don't know what I would do without Thelma. She has been my rock and confidant through so much. Rawls wasn't going into later to the office, so I snuck in and gave him a quick kiss before I headed out the door. I thought he was asleep, but he was just pretending because he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down on the bed. "Where do you think, you are going to so early, my love." He was kissing down my neck and his facial hair was rubbing on my neck and g
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. "Ah, but you see," he says, his voice a low purr, "you don't have a choice." My mind races as I look around the room, desperately seeking a weapon, an escape route, anything to save us. The house seems to shrink around me, the walls closing in as my chest tightens with fear. Mom's eyes are wide with terror, and she shakes her head vigorously, trying to warn me. I understand the message—don't come closer. But I can't just leave her here with him. My survival instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast. Jonathan takes a step toward me, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Don't be stupid, Claire," he says, his voice like a snake's hiss. "You know what happens when you defy me.” My gaze falls to his hand, and my stomach drops when I see the gun glinting in the moonlight. It's pointed at Mom, her eyes pleading with me to be careful. I can't let him take us—I won't let him hurt my baby. . "We're leaving." The gun in Jonathan's hand is unwa
As he leaves, I fight the urge to follow, to beg him to take me with him. But I know I can't. I'm too much of a liability in my current state. The fear for him, for Evie, for the baby, and for myself is a storm of noise in my head. I need to stay strong, to keep the hope alive. I sit down in the nursery, the silence deafening. The only sound is the faint ticking of the crib mobile above, a reminder of the life we're fighting for. I try to focus on the positive—Fiona’s call, the possibility of finding Evie. But the fear is a living creature, feeding on my doubt. Rawls's footsteps retreat down the hallway, and I listen until the front door clicks shut. My heart feels like it's in a vice, and I take deep breaths to keep the panic at bay. The house is too quiet, save for the occasional muffled murmur of dad's team outside. The thought of Fiona plays in my mind. She's out there, alive, and willing to help. But what if it's a trap? What if Jonathan has somehow turned her against us? I s
As if an answer to my silent plea, the phone on the nightstand starts to ring. The screen flashes with an unknown number, and for a brief, hopeful moment, I wonder if it's a sign. I pick it up, my heart pounding in my chest, and bring it to my ear. "Hello?" The voice on the other end is faint, but it sends a shockwave through my body. "Rawls," the voice says, and my heart skips a beat. It's Fiona. She really is alive. "Fiona?" Rawls says, his voice tight with disbelief. "Is that really you?" There's a pause, and then her voice, clear as a bell, fills the room. "It's me, Rawls," she says, the sound of her voice like a ghost from the past, haunting and yet oddly comforting. "I need to see you. It's about Evie." My hand tightens around the phone. "What do you know?" Fiona's voice is a mix of pain and urgency. "I know where he's keeping her," she says, the words coming out in a rush. "I can help you get her back." "How?" he asks, his voice gruff. "What do you want in exchang
The further along Claire is in her pregnancy the more e concerned I become. No matter how much digging Robert and I have been doing, we cannot find out where Jonathan is holding Evie. We decided to not get the police involved. It may not be the best decision but some of the things were are having to do or will have to do may not be on the right side of the law. The further along Claire is in her pregnancy the more concerned I become. No matter how much digging Robert and I have been doing, we cannot find out where Jonathan is holding Evie. We decided to not get the police involved. It may not be the best decision but some of the things were are having to do or will have to do may not be on the right side of the law. "I can't sit here and do nothing," I say, pacing the room. "We need to find her." Rawls's eyes are filled with understanding, but his voice is firm. "We will, but we have to be smart about it," he says, his hand landing gently on my shoulder, trying to still my frantic
I should have gotten Jonathan psychiatric help a long time ago. Even as a child he had issues getting along with other children. The years I was with Rawls and Evie, Jonathan had been raised with his father’s (Marco) family, the Castellanos. Marco had always talked about the strange incidents that occurred when they he was young, but he had always downplayed the seriousness of Jonathan’s behavior. Now, it all made sense. My child had turned into a monster, and we were all just pawns in his twisted game of power and control. I had to see Evie. I had to explain, to apologize for the years of pain I had caused. But would Evie even believe me? Would she recognize me as her mother or the woman who had abandoned her all those years ago? Fear and guilt had been my constant companions since I had gone into hiding, but now, with Evie's safety hanging in the balance, I was going to have to face my past. I had to see her, had to try to make this right. I approached the house where I kne
I know Rawls and Dad are keeping things from me. I can see it in their eyes every time they think I'm not looking. They hover over me like overprotective hawks, their whispers and furtive glances speaking volumes. But I'm not a child anymore. I know something's wrong, something much more than just Evie's disappearance. I sit in my room, my thoughts racing, trying to piece together the puzzle that is my life. The walls are closing in, the silence suffocating. I need to know the truth. I need to know what's happening to Evie and why my fiancé and my father are acting so strangely. Summoning my courage, I tiptoe down the hallway. The house feels eerie, as if it's holding its breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop. I hover outside the door to Rawls’ office, listening to the muffled whispers of Rawls and my dad. "We need to tell her," my dad says, his voice strained. "She has a right to know." Rawls's voice is low and firm. "Not yet. She's not ready for this." I bite my lip, my he
Claire said that Thelma is good at digging up information. Hopefully she has something that can help us find Evie and rid our lives of this psychopath. Robert and I were anxious to see what Thelma had found, but I know it will help Claire if they can see each other. "Thelma," Robert said, his voice tight with urgency. "What do you have for us?" Thelma took a deep breath, her eyes flicking to me before returning to Robert. "I've been looking into Jonathan Cramer/John Castellanos's history," she began, her voice steady despite the gravity of what she was about to say. "And it turns out he has connections to Evie's mother, Fiona." "Robert and I leaned in, our eyes locked on Thelma's face as she opened the folder. She pulled out a series of photographs, each one more disturbing than the last. "These are of Jonathan with his mother," she said. "Does this woman look familiar?” Robert took the photos, his eyes scanning over them before handing them to me. The woman in the images
Robert and I sat in my office, poring over the case files and notes we had gathered on Jonathan Cramer. The silence in the house was suffocating, compared to the chaos that had erupted earlier. The detectives were on thin ice with me. I could not believe they questioned Claire about the paternity of the baby. "How did he do it?" Robert muttered, his eyes scanning the page in front of him. "He had to have had help," I said, slamming a fist on the table. "There's no way he could have gotten through that security unnoticed." Robert nodded, his jaw set. "I've called in a favor with an old contact at the precinct," he said, his eyes never leaving the paperwork scattered in front of him. "We're getting the full report on the facility's staff—everyone who had access to Evie's location and schedule." We worked tirelessly into the night, piecing together a timeline of events, looking for any inconsistencies or signs of tampering. The more we dug, the more it became clear that this was
I can’t believe how easy it was to get at Evie. The security at the mental facility was no better than the security at a nursery school. I had disguised myself well enough that Evie did not recognize me. She thinks her dad sent me to pick her up for her safety. She will be anything but safe with me. I may have a little fun with her before my plan is put into place. But first things first, I need to get her to my place. She’s so naive and trusting, it’s almost too easy. I have a van waiting outside, no plates, no paperwork, no way to trace it back to me. The perfect getaway vehicle. As we walk out of the facility, my heart races. The plan is coming together perfectly. The security camera's blind spot is right where I need it to be. I glance around, making sure no one is watching. "It's okay, Evie," I say, my voice low and reassuring. "We're going to get you somewhere safe." Her eyes are wide with fear, but she nods, trusting me implicitly. She's just as innocent now as she was