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1. MEGHAN
Oquirrh Mountains, Utah
1 Year Before
Despite the crushing weight of him, my brain screamed at me to run.
Run, it demanded as he grunted and pulled the scarf—my scarf—tighter around my neck.
Instead I lay frozen, like a mouse under a cat’s paw, until the vise of pressure and pain suddenly released.
He looked at me for a few seconds as he got to his feet, his mouth turned down in disgust. He was breathing hard. His pale face hovered above me in the darkness, the distinctive mole on his cheek a stark punctuation mark.
He let the limp, pink-and-green scarf fall to the ground beside me.
Run, my brain roared again. RUN!
I still didn’t move. I didn’t even blink.
He turned toward the car he’d precariously parked on the shoulder of the rutted dirt road.
I could only imagine what he’d left in the trunk. But if I didn’t move, I knew I’d find out.
So that’s when I finally ran, bolting into the shadows of the pines that beckoned with hiding places, if not safety.
I scrambled down a steep embankment toward a dry stream bed, pushing myself faster and willing myself not to fall, no longer even conscious of the pain in my throat.
I wasn’t sure where I was going. All I knew was that I needed to put as much distance as I could between myself and the spotless blue Kia Sorento. And more importantly, I needed to get away from the soft-spoken, fine-as-hell man who drove it: The needle, I’d called him when I told Sharesa about our upcoming date. As in, the needle in a deep haystack of bachelors on the MatchStrike app: divorced dads with kids, complicated custody agreements, and cringey gym-bathroom selfies.
Jimmy was different. With his dark amber eyes, a close-shaved beard along his angular jawline and a hard-part haircut, he was a dead ringer for Chris Hemsworth.
When I showed Sharesa his photo, she’d actually squealed.
I, on the other hand, had kept my expectations in check. I wasn’t new to the online dating scene. I’d taken an Uber to Gracie’s Spot in Salt Lake after my shift and braced to meet Chris Hemsworth’s creepy cousin. I even texted Sharesa on my way. Call me in an hour with an out? I could see the text bubbles appear immediately after I hit send. Whatever, you know you’re thirsty. I rolled my eyes. More bubbles. … I’ll call <3.
We talked in the back booth of Gracie’s until last call at eleven. I texted Sharesa from the bathroom that there was no need to rescue me after all. She’d replied immediately, like always: Thirrrrrsty.
As I washed my hands, a paper sign taped to the bathroom mirror caught my attention. “On a date that isn’t going well? Do you feel unsafe or just a little uneasy? Ask for Andrea at the bar. We’ll make sure you get home safe.” I smiled as I dried my hands, grateful I didn’t need to ask. Not tonight. Not with him.
I stopped looking at the sign and studied myself in the mirror. I’d taken extra time with my hair, which I usually let fall in a blunt line across my shoulders. Earlier, I had coaxed it into waves that looked like spun gold in the restaurant lighting. I reapplied some of the deep pink lipstick that had become my signature accessory over the years and pressed my lips together, wondering if he’d kiss me later.
I had two beers over the course of the evening. Not enough to get me drunk or anything. Just enough to take the edge off my nerves. Because he did not in fact look like Chris Hemsworth’s creepy cousin. He was thoughtful and funny. Even the large mole on his cheek somehow made him all the more attractive.
He drank ginger ale. It didn’t faze me. I lived in Utah, after all.
The last thing I remember was feeling a little bit too warm. And really, really happy. The syrup-colored lights blazing in the trendy sputnik chandeliers suddenly had these little auras surrounding them. So when he suggested that I let him drive me home instead of waiting for an Uber in the cold, I didn’t even hesitate.
The car had those crinkly paper covers on the seats, like it had just been cleaned.
That’s the last thing I remember. Until I woke up with his hands—and my scarf—around my neck. The warm lights of Gracie’s were gone, replaced with the bite of pine needles and dirt under my hair and the swirling dark of the freezing night air.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t understand what was happening. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even tell where I was. All I knew was that everything hurt.
The memory of our date crashed through the haze when I saw his eyes glinting above me. They weren’t warm or even amber-colored anymore like they had been in the booth at Gracie’s. These eyes were cold. Wide. And full of rage.
I thought about the sign in the bathroom at Gracie’s. Ask for Andrea.
Andrea couldn’t help me now. No one could.
