Page 1 of Lair

ONE

It was 2:59 a.m. and I laid rigid in bed, listening to Josh breathe. Waiting.

The next part was the hardest: to actually start. To make the decision to leave Josh and set aside our old life together, packed away like so much treasure, and confront the reality of a future that would not contain him. Not include Josh.

The digital numbers on my clock changed: 3:00. Time to go.

And still I laid there, trembling. How could I go on? How could I do this?

Then I thought of the reddish-black bruises on my cheek, and my jaw ached as it clenched.

3:01.

I pulled the covers away, and there was his meaty arm draped over me. I gingerly lifted it, not daring to breathe, and set it aside. Then the horrifying moment of scooching out, my weight depressing the bed.

He snorted in his sleep, and I froze. But he only turned away and heaved a sigh.

Jesus.

My one bag was already packed and waiting for me under the bed, and I knew Cailee would be waiting for me. So that was all taken care of.

Next, tiptoeing over the broken glass and dirty laundry on the floor, careful to not look at the fist-sized hole in the wall. The terror pouring out of me in rivulets of sweat. A squeak of the floor as I dipped to grab my coat and shoes.

My hand was shaking when I laid it on the doorknob. My breath held as I waited to hear if he stirred, never daring to look back.

Then I slipped out, like a grave robber, into the night.

The farmyard was lush and green in the Oregon darkness. A light rain pattered down, and the sweet smell of the stables stung my nostrils. I had begun to shake by that point; I was in a bad way. But I didn’t have time for that. I was not yet in the clear. I had crushed sleeping pills into Bowser’s food earlier that evening, and he was still in his doghouse by the door, snout on paws, chain coiled before him. But I didn’t trust him sleeping for long. Not only was that black rottweiler big as hell, he was also blindly loyal to Josh and hated me with an evil will.

I swallowed and snuck past. Ahead, gleaming in the rain at the end of the drive with its headlights off, Cailee’s crappy pickup waited in a cloud of exhaust. So close.

My insides turned. Maybe this would actually happen.

The low growl behind me shattered that hope.

I turned to see Bowser standing with heavy muscles corded under his sleek black coat, slobber dripping from his snarled lips. His pinprick eyes blazed death.

Cailee stuck her head out the driver side window. “Run, Arie! Run!”

I bolted. There was a heart-stopping unsnaking of chain, and then an angry clink as Bowser was jerked short, teeth snapping shut inches behind me.

His ferocious barking brought the lights of the farmhouse on, and my knees threatened to give out.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Cailee shrieked.

I couldn’t help it: I looked back. And there was that familiar shape, a dark shadow that stomped out into the yard, hands balled into fists. “Get back here, you bitch!”

Sobbing as I scrambled into the truck and slammed the door shut behind me. As the truck peeled out in rooster tails of gravel, the figure pounding on my window, making me shriek. My hands to my ears, but the voice getting through all the same. “You’ll never do better than me! You hear me? You don’t deserve it. You’re mine!”

And he was right. That was the terrible thing. This was all for me to make a life for myself, to reclaim an existence where what I ate, what I said, what I thought was not controlled by someone else.

But what was I to care about now? How would I know I was alive?

His lasting gift to me. The knowledge that I could run all I want, but how would I ever replace him? Who else could ever pose so vibrant a challenge?

And the truck barreled on through the wet night, the shadow of my old life falling impossibly behind, and Cailee rubbed my back and made soothing noises as the rain pounded and the darkness flew up to swallow me and—

I tip up my face and drink in the sun’s warmth, memories leaching away. Even after two weeks in the shimmering tropicality of Florida, I haven’t gotten used to it. The perpetual rain of Oregon has turned me into a sunshine addict.

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