Page 20 of Journey

“What do you want?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and blocking the entrance.

“Wren?”

“Who the hell else would it be?” I counter, my hackles rising.

Journey stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads, and unease begins to trickle in. He didn’t scare me when we initially met. Hell, I brought him home after only a few minutes in his company. But right now, under his current scrutiny, fear becomes real.

“You tell me,” he says quietly.

The panic coursing through my veins catapults me back in time, and I run to duck behind the couch.

“Wren?” the man calls out. “What the hell are you doing?”

Who’s Wren?

“My Daddy will hurt you,” I say, my voice small and wobbly.

Footsteps thud on the floor, and I curl into a ball as they get closer.

“Your Daddy?” he asks.

I nod frantically but don’t speak because my voice is stuck in my throat. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to swallow so I can make words come out.

“He’s scary, mister,” I croak. “Please, just go.”

“Wren, please,” he replies. “Come out of there and talk to me.”

“I’m not Wren!” I yell. “She left because she was scared.”

“She left?”

“Mister, please,” I plead. “Leave me alone.”

“Okay, okay. But…”

“He’s coming,” I tell him, hearing the sounds that warn me that Daddy’s home. “Don’t tell him where I’m at.”

“I won’t.” The man moves into my line of sight and smiles, but my fear isn’t eased. “Can you tell me your name before I go?”

I think about it for a moment and decide that it might be a good thing if someone else knows about me. If anything bad happens, maybe he can get help.

“Annie. My name’s Annie.”

CHAPTER 11

JOURNEY

This woman got her hooks into me from the moment I laid eyes on her.

“My name’s Annie.”

I stare at the woman curled up in the fetal position behind the couch. Her beautiful eyes swim with unshed tears, and her body trembles. I know she’s a grown-up, but she’s acting very much like a small child.

“Annie, I’m Journey,” I say carefully.

I remember reading about Annie in the notes from Wren’s therapist. Based on Dr. Young’s observations, Annie is approximately five years old, the same age Wren was when her piece-of-shit father killed her family.

“You have to leave,” she says, her bottom lip quivering. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

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