Page 184 of Hayden's Stalker

“She even blackmailed us into letting her come with us on the mission to rescue you,” the agent from the car says in an amused tone from across the table.

It makes me smile because only Tatiana Swanson would have enough balls to blackmail the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

“I’m glad she did.” I look back over at her, in awe that the most amazing woman in the world wants to marry me even though I don’t deserve her. “You were the only person I wanted to see from the time I woke up in that box.”

She squeezes my hand as she looks at me, and it gives me the strength to continue my statement. I tell them about thesecond night and then this morning. It’s probably the second most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do after living through it the first time. I’m acutely aware that these people are all strangers, and it’s uncomfortable to tell them all the things that happened to me.

I leave a lot of it out, not telling them that Sarah was practically naked last night or that she assaulted me. The memories are too painful to think about, let alone tell these people, and Sarah is dead, so it’s not like they’re going to charge her with anything.

When I reach the point in my story where Sarah died, I look up at Special Agent McGuire and tell her, “I don’t know what else to say.”

“You’ve told us plenty. We just have a few questions that we need to ask,” she says.

They interview me for another half an hour or so, with the FBI agents clarifying certain points of what I told them. I’m grateful that they focus more on Daniel and the role he played in what happened. It’s easier to talk about him and what he did to me than it is to talk about Sarah. I guess since he’s the one who’s still alive, they need to know what they can charge him with.

When it’s finally over, Special Agent McGuire has someone retrieve my phone and watch for me, then she sees us to the front of the building. “I can’t thank you enough for your time this evening, Mr. Vega. I know that this experience has been very difficult. The victim liaison will be in contact with you sometime tomorrow to organize counseling and other services for you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

We’re driven by a pair of FBI agents in a black SUV to the hotel my friends are staying at. I put my arm around Tati and hold her close as we drive in silence. My throat is dry, and I’m exhausted after everything that’s happened. I still don’t know how to feel, and I’m a mess of emotions because I should just feelsafe and happy being here. I wish I could, but some part of me was left in that log cabin, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be whole again.

I thank the agents as they drop us off at the front of the hotel, and as we enter it, Tati says, “I have a room on floor seven. It’s not a fancy suite.”

As if I give a shit about the size of the hotel room. All I want is to be wherever Tati is every day for the rest of my life.

“I don’t care as long as you’re there,” I assure her with a smile, then cringe as I realize how disgusting I must smell. “I do need a shower and a change of clothes, though.”

She takes me up to her room, and as soon as the door closes behind us, I pull her into his arms and hold her tightly. We’re finally alone, and I no longer have to keep myself together. I cling to her, breathing in her scent as memories flood my mind. I remind myself that I’m free now. I’m here with Tati, and everything’s okay even if I’m not.

The first question she asks when we break apart is, “Are you okay?”

“Not even close,” I admit.

Everything seems so overwhelming, and I have no idea how to cope with any of what I’m feeling. I frown at Tati, remembering her admission that she was tortured, which is so much worse than what I went through.

I chew my lip, and I don’t want to bring back bad memories for her, but I can’t help asking quietly. “How do I get over this?”

Tears shine in Tati’s eyes, and I hate that I must have reminded her of what happened to her in the past, more guilt washing over me as she says, “With time. And therapy. And even then, you’re not expected to be okay. What happened these past three days was traumatic, and it will take time to even get to a semblance of okay. When you do, you will still have something happen, and you will feel it all over again as badly as you feelit now. But it does get easier to deal with that happening over time.”

We stare at each other, and I feel like a very different person from the man she met back in March. I never could’ve imagined when she told me about her past experience with being tortured that I would end up with my own traumatic experience that I would have to learn to cope with.

She’s so much stronger than I am, and with the way I feel right now, it’s unfathomable that I will ever be okay again, but I nod my head.

“You said you needed a shower. How about you do that and I’ll get Jesse to go down to the bus and get some clothes for you.”

“Okay.” I manage to choke out the word before I turn to enter the attached bathroom.

There’s a bath to my left, a toilet and a shower to my right, but directly across from the door is a vanity with a large frameless mirror displaying a stranger. He looks like me, but he’s not the same man I’ve seen so many times before.

His brown hair is messy, and his facial hair has grown out, no longer the designer stubble he usually sports. There’s a large cut on his right cheek that’s scabbed over with obvious bruising on his tan skin. This is the first time I’ve seen Other Hayden Vega, and it takes me straight back to the log cabin. To Sarah touching my skin, and I desperately need to be clean.

I turn the shower on as hot as it will go and rip my clothes before I toss them aside and get into the shower. The water isn’t hot enough, but it stings my skin as I pour some of the body wash the hotel provides onto a washcloth. When I’ve run it over every inch of my body, though, I still don’t feel clean.

I try again and again, but nothing works. I sink to the floor of the shower and sob as I scrub at my infected skin. It feels as though Sarah is sitting next to me here in the shower, her skin against mine, dirtying me. I rub roughly in the washcloth,desperately wanting to be clean again. I’m not clean, though. I can never be clean, but I keep trying.

I don’t know how long I sit there, rubbing at my ruined body with the washcloth before the shower door opens and Tati crouches down next to me. “Hayden?”

I look over at her, as beautiful as ever. So perfect and pure and not damaged and dirty like me.

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