Page 44 of Chance
Numbness could be a blessing,but it was also a symptom.A huge symptom.I needed to remember that.
Numbness was safe, though.
I didn’t have to feel the tornadoes of constant emotions warring within me.There was no fear.No grief.No pain tearing my heart to shreds.
There was simply…
Nothing.
Just like Chance had said to his mother.
We were nothing.
As William liked to taunt me,I was nothing.
And for once, I didn’t shy away from that word when William bellowed it inside my head.I accepted it for what it was, and I let the numbness have control.Thursday, I was busy with work.There wasn’t anything that stood out.I was thankful when the day ended and I could cuddle up with Evy in our bed.Friday, I had another sociology class with Abi.She sat beside me again, asked the professor questions in an attempt to keep me out of my head, and bumped her arm against mine when she couldn’t.
Saturday, I went with Nishia and Delaney to WomanLand for a little shopping.I saw them often at Sanctuary.Nishia lived there with Jack.She’d been a resident when she’d first come to Creswell Springs.She hadn’t shared much of her past with me, and I was so numb I didn’t think to ask.After our shopping, we met Abi and Sammy for lunch.I smiled and pretended like everything was fine.
I was fine.
Still numb.
Still…nothing.
Sunday was a little harder.Sundays were just Evy and me, like we’d promised each other.Always and forever.We cuddled on the couch, the front door wide open, watching movies that had been a comfort when I was younger.Alone.Numb to the ache of missing my sister.Blank so William wouldn’t take something else away from me.Reid showed up with dinner after spending the day with his brother doing MC work—whatever that meant.
I didn’t sleep that night.
William kept screaming too loudly in my head.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Slowly, William’s voice morphed into Chance’s voice.It was hard to focus in my Monday class, but I pretended.I let the numbness soak deeper.Somehow, I turned off William’s voice and got a little peace.Another sleepless night.
Chance’s voice remained—not yelling, but whispering.That somehow felt worse.Nothing became my new mantra while I avoided real-life Chance as much as possible.Which was easy enough since he had a job and the MC and probably a new whore every night.
Tuesday, the lead social worker placed a file on my desk that needed to be updated.It was for a current resident, someone who had been there for almost two years.She’d gotten a new job, and all I needed to do was revise her contact information.
Sanctuary kept meticulous records, both digital and hard copy, to ensure the residents were always safe, protected.Whenever I was given a file to work on, I flipped through it to familiarize myself with that person’s history.My supervisor told me it was the easiest way to avoid triggers for some of the more sensitive residents.
That the victims—no, Evie, survivors—who came to Sanctuary remained at the shelter for as long as they felt comfortable, were never made to feel like they had to leave, that they weren’t a burden, was powerful to me.Even through my numbness, that power warmed me.
Some of the residents needed to stay locked behind the walls of Sanctuary as desperately as I needed the freedom of an open door.
The file I updated was for a resident named Penny.Penny was twenty-five.She used to live in Iowa with her boyfriend, who beat her, pimped her out, and then sold her.
Penny had been trafficked.
And Penny had escaped.Only to almost die when she’d jumped out of the back of the van that was driving her north.Her file didn’t say where exactly she was being taken, just north.Washington State was north.Seattle was north.
Almost two years ago, William had been north.
The numbness started to fade.I pulled it back—with all my strength, I pulled it back.
