Page 158 of Finding Noah

Abraham.

Meg looked up into my eyes and asked in a voice edged with worry and fear, “What does it mean?”

My eyes once again swept the surrounding area, as if that suit-wearing, cigarette-smoking, masked vigilante might be here right now, lurking somewhere within the shadows, blending into the darkness.

And I thought about what I’d been through, the pain and abuse and torture I’d endured in the past week of my life. The death I had wished, begged for, and even now, as I wrapped my arms around Meg’s shoulders and pulled her against my chest, I wondered if I would’ve been better off.

But then I thought about the little fire burning inside her. That tiny spark of hope, the promise of a new beginning and the chance to further embark on the only dream I'd ever wished to come true.

A life with her.

Meg.

My angel on the phone line, guiding me toward salvation when I had just been thirteen, and the angel in my mind, preserving my sanity as Benjamin Nolan had tried his hardest to rob me of every thread of self.

And it was all because he’d thought my existence was worth saving.

Abraham.

The second angel to save my life.

And there were questions to be answered—so many questions that would live forever in my mind—and I was sure I’d live through countless nights, awake and wondering. But unlike the restlessness I’d experienced before, there was peace now in knowing those questions would be left unanswered.

As long as I was still questioning, still wondering, I was still here.

Alive.

I swallowed, nodding toward the shadowy night, and my arms held Meg tight as my eyes met my father’s, and I said, “It means we go home and we live our lives.”

And we never ever dig up a past that’s meant to stay buried.

Never again, I promised myself.

Never again, I promised her and the baby I would soon hold within my arms.

Never again, I promised that man in black.

Never again.

EPILOGUE

A MAN NAMED NOAH

THREE MONTHS LATER

I thought about Mom and the things she'd endured a lot during the weeks and months after the torture I went gone through inside Benjamin Nolan's dungeon. And I talked about her often with the therapist I’d finally succumbed to needing.

***

AGE SEVENTEEN

It felt awkward to sit alone with my mom now after knowing what I knew about my conception.

It was even more so after having multiple parts of my body inside a girl’s mouth. I was afraid she could glance at me and sense my knowledge and new experiences radiating from my skin, and every time she looked at me from across the couch, I wished I could burrow deeper between the cushions and retreat without my absence being noticed.

“You’re quiet,” she commented finally after twenty minutes of the most uncomfortable silence I’d ever experienced. “You okay?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”