“I’m going to die in this hellhole, Mila! I won’t survive it!” I fling myself back on the tiny bed, my arm swinging over my head as I press the SAT phone to my ear. I’m on my third week with Eric and these four walls that have me wanting to crawl out of my skin.
Thankfully, he leaves for eight hours a day, but that isn’t cutting it anymore. “All I get is one walk every twenty-four hours, and even then, I’m being trailed, a slew of men covering my every move. I swear, I’ve got more security than the British Queen!”
Mila chuckles into the line. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but yes, I’m starting to feel that this is all a bit excessive. Between the Wicked Witch shacking up with the love of my life and knowing that they’re having a baby together, I’m losing my mind. I mean do I really need to be here, in the same city as them?”
“So, you really decided to give up on the love of your life, giving him to Catherine on a silver platter?”
“He isn’t an offering, Melissa. He’s having a baby with her, the least I could do for the peanut’s sake is respect that and let them be a family.”
“But it didn’t seem like he wanted to be a family with her at all. He wanted that with you.”
“Well, we can’t all have what we want, can we? Sometimes we need to make sacrifices and be the bigger person.” My friend sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than she is me.
“Hey, if that’s what makes you happy. But know that you’re always free to change your mind. That man’s heart belongs to you, and in my opinion, you two are just torturing each other.”
Mila scoffs. “Torture? Torture is being followed twenty-four-seven with no sign of escape. This all seems pointless. After all, my labs all came back normal and they couldn’t find any sign of what they thought might’ve been a dart…Hell, maybe I imagined the whole thing in the woods.”
“Stop right there, girl. If this was all because of some sex-induced hallucination, I’m going to strangle you—right along with Hunter for leaving me down here.”
“Speaking of which, have you been able to talk to him?” My best friend asks, but there’s something off with her tone.
“No…” Immediately, my heart works overtime. “Do you know something I don’t? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. I heard some of the men in my detail saying that they hadn’t been able to get a hold of him for an entire week.”
“But that’s normal for him, right? He always goes off-grid, doing his own thing.” I’m biting on my thumbnail, now. Grateful for my friend’s insight, but concerned nonetheless.
“Yeah, that’s what some of them were saying.” She pauses, a sigh ensuing the longest seconds of my life. “But the others, they think it might be something to do with a cartel. I haven’t been able to get much info out of them, but I was able to snag a number for Hunter’s SAT phone.”
I sit upright on the bed, in disbelief that it’s taken my friend this long to tell me this. “Mila! Why were you holding this back?!”
“I know you, Mel. You can become a little…obsessive. And seeing how you’re locked up in the middle of nowhere, it might be a little more intense than usual.”
I scoff, knowing she’s one thousand percent right, but I’m not admitting to it. “That is so not true.”
“Yeah. It is.” She laughs. “And I’m not there to walk you down from hysteria hill, should you decide to climb it.”
My eyes narrow, face scrunching in distaste. “Hey, I don’t appreciate your lack of faith in me. What am I going to do with a little ol’ number?”
Mila sighs into the phone. “For starters, if he doesn’t answer, you’ll start to run through all sorts of scenarios as to why he didn’t pick up. Is he in danger? Is he dead?” There’s a pause, and I feel it coming before she even says it. “Or, Does he not want you anymore?”
Like a tsunami, wave after wave of darkness takes me under, my mind swimming against the current as thoughts of the past fill my lungs.
‘You worthless waste of space.’
‘You just fuck everything up.’
‘God, Mel. Can’t you do anything right?’
My breathing kicks up and my chest tightens—It’s imploding. Suffocating. Robbing me of my breath.
‘No wonder your momma left. Least you could do is open up those legs and make us some money. Earn your keep or get the fuck out, little girl.’
“Mel!” My best friend sounds off in the distance, her voice like a lighthouse, calling in a ship to safe harbor. “Answer me or I’m calling your brother.”
I choke on a sob, my hand flying to my heart in an effort to slow it down, but it’s pointless. The feeling of despair is so great, the ache in my chest will never truly go away.
I thought I’d healed. That I’d made this part of me disappear, never to be felt again. Yet, here I am, on the precipice of falling once more.
“Melissa! Answer me!” My best friend is full-on screaming into the line, and it’s enough to jolt me out of the trance I’d been under.
“Hey, I’m so sorry.” My voice comes out hoarse, but at least I’m able to string a sentence together.
“You see!” Mila huffs into the phone, her breathing coming in labored. “That’s why I didn’t give you his number before.”
“I know. I get it. But it’s still my choice. Especially since this is the only hour I get to talk until next week.”
I can practically see Mila gnawing on her lip as she decides whether or not to fork over Hunter’s SAT phone info.
“I hate the very idea of this, Mel. I don’t think this is good for you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Her words hit deep. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone care for me the way she does. It goes beyond whatever familial relationship I share with my brother.
We may’ve been birthed by different mothers, but that girl is as good as blood, if not better.
“Please, Mila?”
A second passes. And then another.
“Fine. But I don’t give a shit about Eric’s one hour rule. If you start to spiral, you give me a call. Promise me, Mel? It’s the only way I’m giving you his number.”
I take in a deep breath, knowing that I might just have to use that lifeline if it boils down to it.
“Okay. I promise. I will call you, regardless of my brother’s bullshit rule.”
“I mean it, Mel. Our time is almost up.”
“So, stop wasting time and fork it over already.”
“Fine. It’s 546-978-5555.” There’s a pause before she continues. “God, I hope I didn’t just make a mistake.”
“Stop being so dramatic, Mila. It’s going to be okay. I’m okay. Promise.” Even as I spit the words out, I doubt them myself.
Truth is, these past three weeks have been horrible on my mental psyche. Being alone more often than not leaves you with a lot of time to think. A lot of time to self-reflect. And not everything that I’ve found has been pretty.
There’s something to be said for burying your battle wounds so deep that it seems as if, just for a moment in time, they’ve disappeared—no longer a part of who you are. But the truth is, they’re always there, lurking in the dark… waiting. Waiting for an opportunity to spring back to life and show you that they are in fact a part of you. That they’ve formed you, and as you arose from the ashes, they’ve molded your perception and trajectory in life.
The question is—when it’s all said and done—do you like who and what you’ve become?
“Fine. But call me. I’m serious, Mel.” My best friend’s words bring me back down to earth, a centering force I’m forever grateful for.
“Thanks, babe. Love you.”
“Love you, too. And call me. I mean it.” She tacks on the last part for the millionth time, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, mom. Talk to you soon.” I end the line before she adds any more demands.
Time is ticking on Eric’s phone allotment, and I’d be lying if I said my fingers weren’t itching to get a hold of Hunter. God, how I miss that man.
I’d gotten so used to his shadow trailing me that the stark contrast of its absence is jarring. And I don’t like it. At all.
Needing to rip the Band-Aid of uncertainty off, I dial Hunter’s number with shaky fingers, praying he isn’t in some compromising location and that I’ve given him away. He’d know to turn his phone off right? Of course he would.
The line rings once, twice.
“This is Hunter—”
“Oh, thank God, you’re okay!” I let out a massive sigh of relief, but it’s short-lived.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I haven’t spoken to this man in three weeks, and this is how he responds? “Um, it’s Melissa. I was just worr—”
“I know who this is. Why are you calling?” His question is so matter of fact; it makes me question my own sanity.
Did I imagine our night under the stars? Our quick romp in the room not ten feet away?
“Hunter?” My voice cracks and I feel my lip wobble. This doesn’t feel right. It feels like my heart is being ripped right out of my chest.
“Melissa, I’m busy. If you have nothing to say, then I need to let you go.” He sounds so unaffected, as if I weren’t breaking on the other end of the line.
“Hunter, I—I—”
“You what, Melissa? Spit it out or get off the phone. Quit wasting my time.”
That does it. My heart splinters into a million tiny pieces. The man I’ve loved for as long as I can remember is talking to me as if I don’t matter. As if I’m nothing more than a nuisance to him. Worthless. Worthless, Mel. Good for nothing, Mel.
Fuck.
That.
Shit.
Fuck that shit right out the door.
“Motherfu—”
“Yeah, if that’s all you have to say I’m letting you go. And Melissa? Don’t call again.” The line dies and I’m left wanting to die right along with it. My heart? It’s nothing but a pile of dust—Hunter’s words having charred whatever was left of it to begin with.
My body slides off the bed, the phone falling to the ground as I hit the wooden boards. Why? What happened? What changed?
My mind starts racing with thoughts I’d thought had long been buried. He saw you. The real you. Hated it. Just like your mom. Just like your dad. Why? But why? Because you’re worthless. You’re nothing but a waste of space.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t.
Closing my eyes, I let it take over. The pain so deep, it’s slicing me in two.
Giving into my feelings, I’m on the verge of decimation. But as I let myself fully feel every bit of it, something magical happens… surrender. Surrender to the knowledge that those are just feelings. They are not me, and I am not them.
Just then, flashes of memories flutter through my mind’s eye. Mila’s laughter. The sun touching my skin. The leaves dancing before me—all in the prettiest shades of orange, yellow, and red. My breathing stutters as more floods in. More of the light in this world. The light that, bit-by-bit, has the power to drive out all of the darkness threatening to take me under.
It’s there, in the small moments like the taste of chocolate as it’s hitting my tongue, or the pinks and purples of an amazing sunset, that life is made worth living for. Those moments are all mine. Given to me by mere virtue of being on earth.
I am here, those moments mine, and I’ll be damned if I squander another second away. I am a warrior, and I am worthy. Fuck those who couldn’t see my worth. Their perception has nothing to do with me.
With every bit of fire in my body, I fling the phone hard against the door, the hunk of plastic breaking just as my heart did minutes ago. Funny thing is, moving past the pain of shattering and onto complete surrender, I’m now free.
Wiping my tear-stained face, I rise. Rise from the ashes once more. Determined to live life to the fullest. For me—just for me—because I am enough.
