Page 34 of Beyond the Blue Horizon
I dropped to my knees on the floor, frantic as I crawled to where I had the duffel stuffed under the bed. Short gasps wheezed from my lungs as I pulled it out.
Fumbling, I worked to enter the combo on the lock, and when it gave, I ripped open the zipper and yanked out the three sweaters I always kept neatly folded on top.
Horror.
Guilt.
Grief.
Each one stabbed through me as I stared down at the contents hidden underneath.
My hand shook as I dug through the stacks of bound cash, and my fingers brushed over the bag of jewelry that might as well have been inscribed with my shame.
How easily I’d been blinded.
Attracted to the type of man that I never should have been attracted to.
My stupidity that had caused the greatest grief.
The tattoo on the inner part of my forearm throbbed.
In sorrow we must stand.
Sometimes it felt almost impossible to do it.
To push forward.
To keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Running and running.
I dug deeper into the bag and pulled out the large sketch pad that I kept at the bottom.
I rested back on my heels as sadness washed over me.
A wistfulness that was both comforting and cruel.
I flipped through the rough, textured pages, eyes caressing over the drawings. The dreams that I’d had, the sketches of models and clothing.
Until those faces had shifted from my imaginings to my reality, taking new shape in my grief.
Through the wisping of shadows, I traced my fingertips over their faces. The love and guilt was nearly suffocating as I stared at the drawings of my family.
I turned the page, and my stomach twisted.
My eyes bleared over as I saw the viciousness I’d sketched screaming back. The shape of the two faces that would forever haunt me that I’d scratched with crude strokes.
“Go. Try to save your life. Just like I’m going to try to save mine.”
Anguish wailed from within me.
It was my fault.
Mine.
And there was absolutely no way to take it back.
I could only run.
