Page 76 of Out of the Dark

I wrap my arms around my torso as I sit and wait, trying to steady my breathing. The walls feel like they’re closing in. Just as panic threatens to consume me, I hear a familiar voice.

"Oh, my baby, I’m so glad you’re okay."

I whip around, and my stomach churns. There she is—my mother, her face a mask of tearful relief. She rushes toward me, arms outstretched as if she actually expects me to fall into them. I stand and cross my arms over my chest. Her expression falls.

"What are you doing here?" I demand, my voice sharp despite the lump in my throat.

She dabs at her eyes with a tissue, having the gall to look hurt at my defensive tone. "I was so worried about you,sweetie. You disappeared, and I didn’t know if you were safe."

I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, but I’m still too stunned. This isn’t concern; it’s control dressed up in maternal guilt.

Before I can respond, the officer returns and gestures for me to follow him into the room. My mother’s theatrics fade as the door closes behind us.

"Claire," the officer begins, settling into the chair across from me. "We received a call from your mother, requesting a wellness check. She said you’d disappeared in the middle of the night and that she was concerned for your safety."

I clench my fists under the table. Of course she did.

"But that’s not all," he continues. "She also mentioned that you took a vehicle without permission. The registration shows it’s in your parents’ names."

My heart sinks. Technically, the car is theirs, even though I’m the one who’s driven it for years. I open my mouth to argue, but I know I have no defense. The law is on their side.

"I took the car," I admit in defeat, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. "It was the only way I could get away from them without being stopped."

"Were they holding you there against your will?"

"Not technically, but the community we lived in was isolated, so there was no way to get away without a vehicle. And I had no means to leave otherwise."

He nods, jotting something down. "We’ll need to sort this out. Sit tight."

When he leaves, I bury my face in my hands. This is worse than I imagined. Not only has my mother meddled in my life yet again, but now I’m facing potential charges for simply trying to escape her grasp.

The door creaks open, and I’m led back into the mainarea. My mother stands there, looking every bit the concerned parent.

"Don’t worry," she assures me with feigned relief. "I told them I won’t press charges. But I need the car back, and I’d like you to come with me."

This time, I do laugh. It’s a bitter, angry sound that catches her off guard. "Seriously? You think I’m going to come home with you after all this? Are you going to change your mind and press charges if I say no?"

"No, but I wouldn’t want you to miss your sister’s wedding." She’s still wearing that expression of concern, but there’s the tiniest glint of challenge in her eyes, as if she knows she just played the winning move in this battle.

"What do you mean? Grace is getting married? She’s barely seventeen!"

Mom purses her lips. "Well, yes, but when you ran away, you left Mr. Davidson without a bride-to-be. Grace is of age, so she’s able to take your place."

This has to be a fucking joke. Rage floods my veins, and my heart hammers in my chest. How dare they use my baby sister as a pawn in their twisted games?

"You have to be fucking kidding me right now."

Mom flinches at my language. "I just want what’s best for you and your sister. Mr. Davidson is an important member of the church and will give either of you a very comfortable life."

"So, what? You want me to come home and watch my sister get married to a man over twice her age so that you can brag about another one of your children having an important last name?"

She looks at me with pity, as if I understand nothing. Like I’m a child lashing out. "Like I said, I just want what’s best for my children. But if you come back, you can take her placeinstead."

And there it is. The leverage. She knows I’d do anything to protect my sister from hardship, and marrying Mr. Davidson would be even harder on her than it would be on me. Even despite the freedom I’ve tasted, I’ll go back, if only to protect her.

When I don’t respond, my mom takes that as consideration. She tilts her head, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "It’s your choice, Claire."

My hands shake. I want to scream, to tell her to open her eyes and realize she’s only hurting us, but the thought of my sister—sweet, innocent, and so deserving of more from her life—stops me.

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