Page 61 of Dare To Free Us

“That’s not what I meant?”

He smiled as if knowing I was going to call him on it. “I couldn’t call myself a man if I said I wasn’t attracted to her. Enough that Luca probably would have killed me if he knew just how much. But it was more the fact that she reminded me of someone.” He sighed as if tired. “She didn’t deserve what happened.” We were supposed to be talking about Becka but I got the feeling he’d switched gears to the woman Becka reminded him of.

Giving his head a shake Steven straightened and coughed away the awkward moment. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, Steven. Thank you.”

With all haste he turned and left the room. For a second I pondered Steven’s behavior and questioned if he’d been telling the truth about not having feelings toward Becka, but shoved it away.

I had too much of my own shit going on to add more unnecessary weight to the load.

Crawling onto the bed I pulled the top off and stared into the box that held some of the best experiences of my life. On top was my old college sweater, the grey cotton and red letters looking more ragged than I remembered. Setting it aside I dug through pictures, smiling at every one even though it hurt a bit. Then I pulled out my favorite mug, a penis shaped paper weight that Becka got me as a gag gift, and my art professors favorite brush that I stole from his room as a dare. Dozens of papers and sketches served as a reminder of how far I’d come to improving my skill. It all made me smile.

Near the bottom, the items I went looking for huddled together. My old wallet and phone. Pulling both out I took a deep breath.

My heart raced as I unzipped the tiny zipper. I felt like I’d already done a terrible act just by digging out the box, but now I was truly on my way to researching for a plan. I closed my eyes and took one last deep breath.

One of the items inside the wallet was my old, fake ID that I got in college to replace the one from when I was seventeen, before I turned twenty-one, so I could go to the bars. I looked at the picture of me at twenty and shook my head. So young, but at the time it didn’t seem so. Except for slight changes I still looked much like the face staring back at me. The expiration date was still good, it would work. Using my old real ID with my maiden name would be too much of a risk if Matteo went looking for me.

Setting it aside I picked up my old phone and held the power button. Surprisingly it turned on without hesitation. Going to my contacts I scrolled through, pausing my finger over Becka’s name. If only calling her was that easy? Pushing aside my sadness I scrolled until a single name— or rather nickname— appeared.

Twitch.

Everyone called him that because he had a low-grade level of turrets. Skinny, with dirty blond hair he wasn’t much to look at, but could make anyone pee themselves laughing and made one hell of a fake ID. Twitch supported his extensive weed habit on his forgeries alone.

Swallowing hard to try and get ahold of my courage, I then dialed the number on my current phone. It rang three times.Don’t pick up.I didn’t want to talk to him, I just needed to know if it was still his number.

The ringing stoped. “Hey this is Twitch, I’m ignoring your call because I don’t feel like talking. So, leave me a message and if I feel you are important enough I’ll get back to you.” I hung up and smiled knowing Twitch was as nice as they came— not anything like he sounded.

But at least I knew that was still his number, because the message was different then I remembered.

Now I had to decide if I was going to be calling him again or not.

* * *

Two dayslater I sat at the dinner table eating alone. Matteo still hadn’t come home. But I saw evidence of his presence in the city on the news.

Boston was in an uproar. Multiple shootings and fires across the city had citizens demanding something be done. Even though it was confirmed time and again no innocent people were hurt during the incidents, it didn’t change the unrest it caused.

The media speculated but couldn’t confirm mafia involvement, but I knew it was Matteo.

Dozens of times I was tempted to text him, call him. I was desperate to hear his voice and hesitant at the same time. I knew I would get no comfort from him. He hadn’t attempted to call me either, telling me that he was still angry. What was the point when he waged war in the streets? The very thing I said was driving me away.

I watched every night wondering if he’d heard anything I said that night in my studio. I understood the stress weighing on him must be unbearable but all it did was confirm my greatest fear.

I had to leave. For our child’s sake I would have to leave everything behind. I cried for a good three hours when I made up my mind. My heart felt shriveled and empty in my chest with the thought of never seeing Matteo’s face again.

Being without his touch for days had taken its toll. I craved his love. His hands on me, his length filling me, and the sound of my name on his lips. Sex with Matteo had always been more than wanting pleasure. Every time we were intimate it was the closest thing to feeling like our souls were connected. I would miss that connection. I would miss my husband.

All the previous day I mapped out in my head a plan that would get me out of the house, away from my escorts and to a bus station out of town, headed for California.

It was a huge risk on its own. I would be alone and without protection for the first time in years, but the risk outweighed the alternative.

While living in California I didn’t have bodyguards. There was no need. It was also one of my stipulations I made my father agree to for leaving Boston. To stay safe I stayed smart. I didn’t put my self at unnecessary risk and made sure to always be aware of my surroundings. I could do this, make it on my own.

I’d also held a job in college. Working at the same clothing store in downtown Chico as Becka. My dad thought I was crazy, but it was fun. The girls were easy to be around and feeling productive gave me a sense of worth.

My fake ID would get me far, but if I wanted to get a job I would need a new one and a social security card as well. Twitch would know where to get SSCs, if he hadn’t started on those as well. Most jobs weren’t going to do much of a background check, at least not the ones I would start out with. Now I just had to hope and pray he still lived in Chico, but even if he didn’t I knew he could steer me in the right direction once I got there. It was a big risk, but with the way the men hovered as I shopped, I’d never be able to sneak a burner phone. I’d already taken a risk by using my phone to call his number the first time.

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