Mom Abandoned Me to Save Herself novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: The Window

"You've grown," Lucius said.

He stepped into the study and shut the door behind him. The man with the shaved head stayed in front of it.

"You were quieter in the crate. You just sat there in your own sick and looked at me."

"You made me open my mouth."

"I did. I should have opened your sock." He smiled. "Rowena said you were sly. She said you got it from him."

Downstairs my mother was still talking. The floor carried her voice up, soft and brave.

"...and the day my husband carried me down that mountain..."

"She's very good, isn't she?" Lucius said. "She believes every word. That's what makes it work."

He held out his hand.

"The book. And the paper. And then we'll talk about where you go next."

"The overlook again?"

"Somewhere with a better shot this time."

The man at the door unsnapped his holster.

Then every light in the house went out.

The music stopped. Four hundred people gasped at once, down through the floor.

In the dark, Lucius said a word I'd never heard him say.

I was already moving.

I knew where the window was, just past the desk.

I hit the latch with the heel of my hand and shoved the sash up and went out headfirst.

The porch roof was slate and wet with dew. I slid on my stomach with the ledger digging into my ribs.

Behind me, a flashlight came on and swung across the glass.

"The roof!" the security man yelled.

I got to the edge. There was a trellis with dead roses on it, running down to the terrace.

I swung my legs over and grabbed it.

The gown caught on a nail and tore up the side seam to my hip. I kept going.

Halfway down, the trellis cracked, and I jumped the rest and landed on my hands in a flower bed.

Then I ran.

Down the lawn in my bare feet, my heels gone somewhere on the roof. Along the black water toward the catering trucks.

A shot cracked behind me and something hit the grass to my left.

Ahead of me, two headlights came on, high and wide apart.

The Peterbilt's air horn blew once, long and loud.

Somebody was running beside me. I almost swung at him.

"It's me," Alastair panted. "It's me, keep going."

Clem had the passenger door open and was leaning across the seat with his arm out.

Alastair boosted me up.

I fell into the cab and he came in after me, on top of me, and Clem had the truck rolling before the door was shut.

We went down the service road with no lights on until we hit the highway.

Nobody said anything for five miles.

Then Clem said, "Nine-oh-eight. I was just putting on my good flannel."

I started to laugh. Then I started to shake.

Alastair's right hand was bleeding. Across all four knuckles.

"What happened to you?"

"The panel box was locked."

"So you punched it?"

"It was a very cheap lock."

I took the ledger out of the front of my dress. It was warm from my skin.

I held it up so they could both see it.

Clem looked at it for a long time with the dash lights on his face. Then he looked at the road again.

"Good girl," he said, and his voice wasn't right.

Alastair's safe house was a cabin in the Laurel Highlands, three hours west, at the end of a gravel road with no neighbors.

Clem took the couch downstairs and was snoring before we'd turned the lights off.

The bedroom upstairs had a slanted ceiling and a quilt and a window full of stars.

I sat Alastair on the edge of the bed and cleaned his knuckles with a washcloth and a bottle of peroxide from the bathroom.

He watched me do it.

"You didn't drink anything tonight," I said.

"I held the same glass for two hours. You?"

"Water."

"Good."

I wrapped his hand in gauze and taped it.

I didn't let go of it.

"You cut the lights," I said.

"I saw him leave the stage before she went on. I followed him up. That's all."

"That's not all."

"No," he said. "It's not."

He didn't reach for me.

He sat there with his wrapped hand in both of mine and waited.

I'd spent my whole life being careful.

I was careful with that paper for eighteen years.

I was careful on every grade and every exit and every man who asked about me at the counter.

I stood up between his knees.

"Do you want this?" I said.

"Yes," he said. "Do you?"

"Yes."

I stood between his knees and reached for the buttons of his shirt.

My hands were shaking and I let them shake.

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