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“Everything we were?” Catie repeated. “That girl I once was is still here, in the shadows, waiting to remind me how fragile this all is. I fight against her every second of every day. Do you think it’s easy? It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever fucking done. Getting up everyday knowing it’s another day in battle against my own fucking self.”
“Yes, but every day, every moment, you choose to keep moving forward.” As she had. She spoke from experience. Some days, she was only one decision away from returning to the pits of hell.
“It’s a choice. A choice I make over and over again. Like the choice you made to allow me to be kidnapped and do nothing about it.”
“I make the same choice. I’ve left that life behind,” Emilee said, reaching out only to let her hand fall back to her side. She really couldn’t get her brain and her mouth to connect. She wanted to bite back at her, tell her she was wrong. Catie saw her run as she was taken, but she didn’t know what happened after she ran. Somehow, she knew Catie wouldn’t be open to hearing any of it.
“Left it behind?” A bitter laugh escaped Catie's lips. “It's never behind me. It's beside me, with every step I take. The memories, the nightmares, the flashbacks… I’ve learned how to deal with them, but they aren’t behind me. They still haunt me.”
Emilee's gaze faltered, pain etched into the lines of her face. “That doesn't mean you haven't changed. It doesn't mean?—”
“I have changed. I’ve found strength I didn’t know I had inside of me. But, change doesn't erase the past. It doesn't warm the cold nights I spent alone in that shed, wondering if I'd die before morning. It doesn’t erase the fear I felt, or the hope that faded. Surely, my best friend has called the police. Rescue will come. She got the license plate number… I waited and waited, thinking you’d done the right thing. That hope faded when they never came, because you never called them. If I’d died, you’d have been partly responsible. You watched evil happen and did nothing to stop it.”
“Please, don't do this,” Emilee begged, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“You ran when I needed you most. When I was dragged away into the night, where were you?”
“Lost,” Emilee confessed, her composure fracturing. “But I'm here now, Catie. I’m so sorry–” She’d tried to get to the police station but she’d gotten lost along the way. She’d turned andbeen hit by a car. Waking up in the hospital, the first thing she did was ask about Catie. Demand to see a detective…
“I need you to hear what I am saying,” Catie snapped. “I spent nights in that shed, freezing, convinced I was going to die alone. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? Save your apologies! I don’t want to hear them!” Catie's shout sliced through the growing tension. Heads turned, eyes peered, but she didn’t appear to care less. “Your apologies can't warm the cold nights or erase the screams that still echo in my ears!”
“Please, Catie,” Emilee begged, her own voice cracking, louder than intended. “I'm trying to make it right.” And failing miserably at it.
Catie’s boyfriend appeared next to them, and stepped close to Catie. A silent bodyguard, Emilee understood the message he was sending her.
“Make it right?” Catie's laugh was bitter. “You can't undo the past. You can't give me back what I lost! You think you can step in and simply apologize now? After leaving me to fend for myself in the darkest moments of my life?”
The silence that followed was deafening; even the distant hum of the party seemed to hold its breath. Catie's vulnerability was raw, a wound reopened for all to see. Emilee's mouth opened and closed, no words finding their way out as she grappled with the gravity of what stood before her—a living testament to her failure. She should have fought harder, should have followed through and demanded they look for Catie. Instead, she let the detective convince her she’d been dreaming and let it go. She lived with the guilt.
“Every day,” Catie's voice broke, “every damn day, I fight to be someone worth something. Not just to the world, but to myself. And every night, I battle the demons you helped summon into my life.” Catie stood there, chest heaving withragged breaths, the remnants of her broken past reflected in the shimmering tears that traced paths down her cheeks.
The conversation was quick, the words back and forth between them. They’d been more than friends; Catie was all she had back then. She felt like the conversation was going nowhere, repeating itself over and over.
“I said I was sorry! What do you want from me?” Emilee begged. She wanted Catie to hear her. Not listen to the words, but hear them. Feel them. Please understand.
“Enough!” Catie’s boyfriend’s command sliced through the tension like a steel blade. Another man flanked him, Catie’s sister’s boyfriend, his own expression grim as he moved towards Emilee.
“Come with me,” he said, his hand firm on Emilee's elbow, steering her away from Catie and over to where Jay, the owner of The Citadel stood by the bar, his brow furrowed in concern.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Jay said, holding up his hand when Emilee opened her mouth to answer. “But, I can tell Catie isn’t comfortable with you being here. Now is not the time or place to get into it. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ll go ahead and pay for your time, including the hours you won’t be here for. I don’t have to remind you of the nondisclosure contract you signed, do I?”
“No,” Emilee said sadly.
“Good girl.” Jay handed her way more than her hourly pay. “Please walk her out,” he nodded to another man nearby.
Money in hand, Emilee walked sadly to where her car was parked in the back lot. The little two door Chevy Cavalier that doubled as her home. She climbed inside and numbly drove to Main Street. Parking behind The Rusty Crab, she crawled into the backseat, pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed.
CHAPTER 1
EMILEE
“Emilee, Emilee, wake up!” The low command came through the passenger side window of her car. Someone was aggressively knocking on the window. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and squinted trying to see who had woken her up.
“Could you turn off the light?” she asked, rolling her window down. “It’s too fucking bright.” She couldn’t see the man holding it, but assumed it was one of Grand Ridge’s finest. She learned she was wrong when the cell phone flashlight lowered, and a tall, tattooed man stood before her. He looked familiar. She was sure she’d seen him at The Citadel. The embroidered patch on his motorcycle cut read Arrow.
“Look I don’t know who you are?—”
“Arrow,” he said gruffly. “Why are you sleeping in your car? It’s snowing and?—”
