Page 25 of The Making of Marnie Jones

A silence hung in the air and stretched. Had she gone too far?

“So I should be empathetic with my sister instead of strangling her?” His voice sounded carefully neutral.

“You need to do what feels right in that moment.” She plunged on. “She claimed the drugs were Olivia’s, she broke her bail conditions, and she’s caused many problems for you and your niece, so I’m not condoning her behavior. I’m simply offering you another perspective.”

“You’re very generous.” His tone bit. “And naïve.”

Her hackles rose. She’d been the one to call him, the one to offer suggestions, and the one to lay herself on the line. “I have to go.”

“Don’t.” His panic was clear. “I was taking out my frustration—”

“Goodnight, Jake.” She pressed the button to end the call. He wouldn’t be calling her tonight since he didn’t have her unlisted number. Or ever again, if she had her way. Naïve? She’d endured seven years of captivity. Seven years of hell. She might not be knowledgeable about the ways of the world, or the ways between men and women, but she didn’t deserve summary dismissal.

Climbing off the bed, she splashed cold water on her face and made her circuit of the house again. The locks were secure, and she was safe, but still...

Since the air conditioner was pumping out too much cold air, she turned it down. Then, perversely, she unlatched her sliding glass door and stepped out into the dusk. She couldn’t see Mount Baker over in Washington State, but the volcano was out there. The panoramic view had been one reason she’d bought the house.

Her balcony was on the second floor, and there was no access from the ground, therefore she ought to feel at least a bit safe. But tonight, she waged an inner battle between the desire to hide under the covers, and the need to prove she could step outside of her house at night without panicking.

Memories assailed her.

Memories of the night years ago.

A night like this one.

It’d been dusk. Mrs. Grant had given her permission to meet with a girl from the neighborhood and ride her bike to buy an ice cream. The store was a few blocks from her house, and she’d have company. Cammi wasn't exactly a friend, but they went to the same school, although Marnie was a year younger.

Cammi never showed, but Marnie wanted the ice cream, and the rare freedom to escape her father's compound, so she ventured down her street and onto the main road. While she was eating her treat, procured at the local convenience store, the sun disappeared and the gloaming set in. Undaunted, she prepared for her trip home.

Whether her glee was because of the ice cream, or her taste of freedom, she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings. If she had been, she might’ve noticed the man driving past. Might’ve seen him getting out of his car. Might’ve been prepared when he snatched her right off her bike. He clamped a hand around her mouth so she couldn’t scream, then he yanked her so hard one of her shoes fell off. He threw her onto the passenger seat and shoved her to the floor. When she tried to escape, he hit her on the head, then ordered her to stay down.

Head pounding, ears ringing, bile rising, she complied.

She sucked in a sharp breath as she remembered.

Taking one last look at the lights of Mission City, she entered the now-temperate climate of her home. Closing the sliding glass door, she shivered. She began shaking so violently she could barely secure the lock. Rushing to the bathroom, she vomited violently.

Why? Why was she doing this to herself? She’d been okay before, right? Before Jake McGrath had shown up and shattered her world. She might not be thriving, but she was surviving, and that had to count for something. It had to, because otherwise, nothing mattered.

Slumping to the floor, she laid her head on the cold tile and curled up in the fetal position next to the toilet. A familiar ache permeated her soul as memories bombarded her. Flashes. Images. Sensations. A low moan escaped her lips. She wrapped her arms around her middle, making herself into the tightest ball possible, and still she couldn't force away the pain.

Minutes passed, dragging into what felt like hours, and still she lay shivering. Time had no meaning when this happened. This was Jake McGrath’s fault, but that gave her little consolation. He wasn’t here now, was he? Not to witness her disintegration, nor to offer her comfort. No, as always, she was alone. The way she’d always been. The way she’d always be.

Finally, with Herculean effort, she pushed herself up and sat, back against the bathtub. The metal was cold against her skin, but it took time to find the mental and physical strength to continue. Leveraging against the toilet bowl, she pulled herself into a standing position. She splashed cold water on her face and brushed her teeth, avoiding the harsh truth of the mirror.

Not bothering to undress, she crawled into bed fully clothed. She pulled the blankets up to her chin, fighting the shivers wracking her body. It’d been several months since one of these episodes, but it didn’t surprise her that events tonight triggered one.

Leaving on the light, she closed her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she sought the peace meditation could bring. Tonight, however, she found no peace. Eventually she drifted into a nightmare-riddled sleep.

Chapter ten

Jakeeyedhisphoneand cursed his stupidity. She’d been opening up to him—sharing some of her deepest and darkest secrets—and what had he done? Challenged her. Called her naïve. Talk about a monumental error in judgment.

Now what was he supposed to do? He wasn’t able to call her back, and even if he could, he had no right to interfere. Instead, he should be grateful she had given him as much as she had.

He raped me. Days on end. Then he took breaks. Then he started again.

His gut churned.

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