Page 6 of Tainted

“If she doesn’t exist, why does it feel like it!” I yelled, throwing my arms out.

Mom pulled me in for a hug, cupping the back of my head. I cried in her arms while she gently rocked me into silence as if someone was watching our exchange.

“I know, baby. It gets hard some days.”

“I hate Autumn Grove. I hate Kendall. Every day I wake up, it’s harder to breathe than the last.”

“If I could go back and do things differently, I would. Unfortunately, those people don’t care.” She grabbed my face now, eye to eye because she needed me to understand, “Going back could put us all in danger. You have to understand that.”

But I no longer had the strength to care. This couldn’t be what living felt like.

“This is the last time we’ll speak aboutZara. Do you understand?”

I nodded, and Mom wiped my tears with her hand.

“I’ll call Mr. Riley and tell him you’re running late,” she volunteered.

I didn’t give a fuck about my shift, but I got up anyway. Mom gave me a sympathetic smirk before picking up the basket and leaving my bedroom. Grabbing My towel, I shuffled to the bathroom, dreading my shift at Rustic Roots Market. Opportunities were few and far in Autumn Grove, so I took classes at the community college part-time when I wasn’t working.

“Hey!” Sasha complained, throwing her hands on her imagination. “I was about to go in there.”

“You snooze, you lose, kiddo.”

“But I’m meeting Grace at the lighthouse,” Sasha sulked because going outside was more important than my job.

“AfterI get ready for work,” I dipped to kiss her perturbed cheek before slipping into the old bathroom.

She loved the sense of community and warmth of small-town living. Sasha was born after we had to be whisked away because some man was after us, so her load was a lot easier to carry. She didn’t have to worry about being anyone but Sasha Springfield.

Clad in my burgundy shirt and khaki pants, I drove to work to start my dreaded six-hour shift. Everybody in Autumn Grove had grown up here and never left. I didn’t want that to be my life, especially since Nana had a stroke, and we had no idea how she was doing. Agent Torres wasn’t supposed to divulge that information but had taken an affinity for Mom and bent the rules. It kept me up every night since I walked in on Mom crying, and it was still on my mind now. Mr. Riley was annoyed because he caught me daydreaming instead of tending to the long line of customers. Daydreaming made the day go by quickly, and my choice became clearer.

I parked my car along the curb and climbed out, heading straight for my bedroom before I lost the courage. I packed everything I thought I would need in my suitcase and placed the new book on Sasha’s twin-sized bed before walking downstairs to ruin my parents' evening.

Dad peeled the newspaper back enough to glance at me standing there holding my suitcase, “You plan on running away or something?”

His joke made Mom abandon the chicken pot pie she was preparing for dinner.

“I can’t stay here,” I cried, watching my father’s expression transition from light and playful to concerned. “I’ve tried, but I just can’t.”

“You can’t leave either,” he reiterated sternly.

“If I stay, I’m already dead inside.”

Dad didn’t understand how I could make such a bold statement so casually, so he flipped to Mom.

“Camille, say something!” He demanded.

She was stuck at a fork in the road, torn between her motherly instinct to protect her firstborn and her support for my journey into womanhood.

The latter won.

“You’re an adult now. We can’t make you stay.”

“Like hell, we can’t! Are you crazy? She could get herself killed.” Dad began spiraling because it was clear she hadn’t shared our conversation from earlier.

“What can we do,Albert? Lock her up until she comes to her senses?”

Nothing about this stoic man, saidAlbert. They were pushovers- a word that didn’t belong in the same sentence as Rodney Canton.

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