Page 93 of Lethal Weakness

She’s always been fond of him, and now I’m afraid she’s getting too attached.

The lock on the door whirs just before the man himself opens the door. He’s dressed in his normal clothes. Jeans, T-shirt, and his low-fitted cap.

He seems to be in one piece. As if this is any other normal day.

“I have new clothes for you in the bathroom so you guys can freshen up. I can help if–”

“We’ve got it. How much time do we have?”

“About 25 min.”

“Okay.” I drag myself off the bed, and as soon as my foot lowers towards the ground, the throbbing becomes unbearable. My ankle is so sore, I can’t attempt to put pressure on my foot.

“I gotta go potty.” Avery hops off the bed and starts doing her little potty dance, and I know I don’t have time to stall.

“Go ahead, Avery,” Jack tells her and picks me up off the bed without letting me deny him this time.

I avoid looking at his stupid, serious, achingly handsome face the entire way as he carries me into the bathroom. A rolling chair that should be in front of a computer is sitting in front of the sink, and he sets me on it.

“Figured this might help for the time being. Doc said you should try to keep it elevated today and take it easy for about a week.”

I scoff. “Doc? Right.”

“For what it’s worth, I think he actually is a doctor.”

I look at him, and he shrugs. Does he even know if these men are who they say they are?

He leaves us to our business, and I don’t miss the water bottle and ibuprofen waiting on the counter, or our toothbrushes beside the sink.

The clothes he left are from our closet.

My favorite jean short overalls, my yellow top, and Avery’s favorite princess dress. Beaded bracelets, her purse, and a pair of flower-shaped sunglasses that she keeps in the kitchen for when she plays outside.

I try not to think about him rifling through my underwear drawer to pick out a new pair of panties, but my body can’t ignore it.

He picked out the ones that I wore the night I jumped him on his back porch, and my cheeks heat at the memory.

He also picked out a bra for me, though I wasn’t wearing one that night; I’m sure he didn’t want to assume.

I catch my reflection in the mirror before I know better of it. I look terrible. Bruised. Swollen. Spit out from the eye of a hurricane.

I can’t manage a shower, but I wipe every inch of myself with a wet rag until there isn’t a speck of dried blood or dirt.

“Ready, Mommy?”

“I guess so.” I scoot in my chair all the way into the hallway and wheel my way towards the living room, half expecting an entourage of men to be waiting.

I was prepared to yell at them to take off their masks before they scare my daughter, but luckily they’re nowhere to be seen.

Jack is in the kitchen, unsticking Avery’s drawing from the fridge.

He handles it carefully so it doesn’t rip, tucking the sticky part of the tape over to the back.

“Now what?” There’s a frog in my throat. Emotions that feel a lot like grief are clawing at me to get out. It’s not the house that I’ll miss, or our life here… But I know everything changes once we leave.

“Now, we go.”

“What about the rest of our stuff?”