Page 89 of Chasing Lynda

We debate for a second on how that could be possible.

“Maybe some of my things didn’t get completely destroyed and the police found them?” she muses. “Regardless, they think I’m dead. That means that my ex isn’t looking for me anymore and maybe I can stop running, as long as that body doesn’t get identified.”

I close my arms around her, reveling in the feeling of her head on my chest. “Don’t worry, Lynda. I’ll protect you if that happens. Even if they knew you were alive and they found you, your family can’t force you back with them against your will, right?”

She responds with a hot, passionate kiss on my lips. That makes me feel better. She didn’t run from me because she didn’t like me enough or because I was too pushy. Now I feel like I can really throw my hat in the ring and make her choose me.

20.

Daddy Issues

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Lynda

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I DON’T FEEL GUILTY for not telling Zane the entire truth about my situation and why I was running from my family.

Ok, fuck.

That’s bullshit, I do feel guilty.

In my defense though, I was ashamed. I like the way the guys look at me. I like that they want me for me and that they don’t know where I come from. They know nothing about the disgusting cult I grew up in. They have no idea of the constant guilt and shame I was made to feel for what I looked like, for what I wanted. When I’m with them, it’s a clean slate and I can forget about being forced into a virginity exam; about being literally drugged to make me compliant enough to walk down the aisle and say “I do” to a psychotic monster.

I can almost forget why I had to run; because no one could protect me and if all else failed, Aaron could have me on trial for murder.

I justify the lie by omission with the fact that I’m not that Lynda anymore. I’m not the girl who fought her hardest to be “normal.” I’m no longer the one who friends took pity on, letting me tag along because they felt sorry for me, for the way my family tried to force me to live.

Maybe I should’ve told Zane that my ex wasn’t just a fiancé, that I was married to him; but I don’t want him to know all that. I tell myself that technically I’m not really lying, because if they declare me dead, that marriage will be dissolved by law.

I’m a little surprised but also relived that none of the guys recognized me from the appeals on the media when Aaron reported me missing. That said, I guess the story was run for a short time over a year ago. I also look different from the photo my family used for the appeal. I was about thirty pounds heavier than I am now, my hair was much shorter, just touching my shoulders. In the two years since my senior photo, I haven’t cut my hair and it now reaches the bottom of my spine. So I look just vaguely similar to the girl on the old flyers that were still being given out by the members of the church.

“Come in!” I yell, finishing applying mascara when someone knocks at my door.

“Hey girl, I was just wondering if I could borrow that baby blue cardigan we bought the other day? The cashmere one? I think it would go really well with my dress.”

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