Page 96 of Prey for You

In theory I’d only need to leave once a week to get milk and stuff.

In theory, because a small, grim horror was coming home to me now that I was here: This would be harder this year. Itwasn’t supposed to be. Last year had been hell. With Sam in my life, I hadn’t thought it would get worse.

For the past month I’d told myself I wouldn’t go away this year. That I didn’t need to. And I got through Thanksgiving—which was usually when I bailed. I even made it past the first of December. That was a first.

But then I heard fucking jingle bells on a commercial on a streaming service and it hit me that having Sam didn’t take away having my dad.

Because of the trial I wasn’t supposed to leave the State. Usually at this time of year I took off to a country where they didn’t celebrate Christmas. I turned my phone off and got drunk and had sex with strangers for a month. But last year I’d been too freaked out by everything that had happened, so even though I’d gone away, I’d stayed alone. And that wasbad.

This year I had Sam. Even if he couldn’t be with me, I thought it would be easier. When I realized I couldn’t stay home through the Hell-idays, I’d toyed with the idea of bringing him with me. I’d wanted to. So badly. I even picked a place in-state, though it was a hugerisk. I knew he’d come if I asked him. Especially if I told him why.But I was afraid he’d get in trouble.

So, I’d been toying back and forth with whether or not to go. I wanted to get out of there, away from people and tinsel and painted windows that were unavoidable at this time of year. But every time I’d talked to Sam at night I had been torn.

My instinct was to be alone.But I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be withhim.

When I called him and he had his prayer guys there, it was because Gerald had commented that I hadn’t run away this year, and how he was so proud of me. He didn’t know that I’d come to that meeting planning to tell him I’d be gone for a month—and that it wasn’t because I was going to kill myself. That I just couldn’t stand it anymore and I was gettingaway.

But he was like a proud dad when I walked in, gushing about how he knew how hard it was for me to stay and this was the longest I’d made it…

I chickened out. I left feeling like a bitch because I knew I wasn’t staying. Then I called Sam to tell him to come with me, to try and figure it out, but he couldn’t talk.

When he showed up after all, I knew it was meant to be.Until he told me about my dad.

God. I shook just thinking about it.

That threw me. Big time. And even though I wasn’t mad anymore. But I felt soexposed.

When I woke up the next morning, and Sam was gone, my heart was already thudding uncomfortably, anxiety pumping through my veins and making my fingertips tingle. I couldn’t be home anymore. And I didn’t know how to tell Sam that I needed to be alone.

I thought I’d fake it. I’d just go. Talk to him from here after I’d already left. Keep seeing him on the phone. Maybe he’d come out for a weekend or something. I didn’t know. I just knew I had toget out.

But now, I was here. And it was beautiful and calm and quiet.

And I didn’t feel better.

I didn’t fucking feel better because he wasn’t here, but the thought of him being here and maybe telling someone else—my dad!—it made me nauseous with nerves.

So I tried to distract myself. I got in the jacuzzi on the back deck that was completely private, only overlooked by the squirrels in the trees.

I cooked food I’d brought in the fancy kitchen but couldn’t get through half of it.

I had three glasses of a nice wine that I brought with me. But it just made me feelspinnyand anxious.

My phone was in my bag in the bedroom. I needed to get it out. Sam would be freaking out wondering where I was. But it made my body freeze up when I thought about looking at the messages.

Another couple glasses of wine did make the time pass faster.

I passed out on the couch at some point and woke up when it was already lunchtime.

Still alone.

And now hungover.

God, I was such a mess.

I pushed through the day playing solitaire and trying to read without taking in any of the words, but my chest kept pinchingpainfully and I couldn’t breathe right. The clouds moved all day—sometimes sunlight bathed me on the couch, making the living room glow. Then I’d be plunged into twilight when heavy clouds passed across the sun.

I ate a lot of junk food. Couldn’t be bothered cooking.

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