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Well, fuck that hurt. That cut really deep, and I hadn’t been expecting for her to throw Elizabeth back at me. I wasn’t handling this right. I didn't know how to walk this back though, because we had both said things that hurt the other. Things we never should have ever voiced.
“Maybe my personality did play a factor in Elizabeth leaving. Maybe that’s why she was screwing every guy that walked by. And yeah, I have commitment issues, but not because I want to be a bachelor for the rest of my life. I have my reasons to not want a wife. My past is not something that I talk about. It hurts too much to talk about it. I understand that you probably have things in your past that are hard for you to talk about. However, I have never lied about who I am to you. I am not hiding some secret identity that could get all of us in serious shit. And now there is a baby in the middle of it. You don’t have to like me, but I am the only one here that can help. I can’t help if you are too busy trying to keep your lies straight. Tell me what the fucking truth is so it can be dealt with, and we can figure out the baby aspect afterwards.”
I didn't know how I felt about having a baby on the way. I wanted to believe it wasn’t mine, that she was playing some type of game. But there was no faking her reaction. She had just found out herself. She wasn’t hiding this from me. She was processing; something I could understand and accept. That didn’t change that I had worn a condom, which meant we were either the luckiest people or the unluckiest people in the world right now. It was like somebody had pulled the plug on Maya, and she suddenly deflated and sunk back down into the chair. She looked beyond exhausted, and I knew it was on more than one level. I had no idea what she was going to do, but I was hoping she would just tell me what was going on, because chances were I could fix it. As long as she didn't murder someone, I could fix it, and she could stop hiding and running. I just needed to know what the fuck she did.
“My life was never supposed to be like this,” she finally said with a deep sadness that I hadn’t been prepared for. I had no idea what she was about to tell me, but it appeared that I was finally going to be getting a real answer from her.
Maya
Thiswasn'thowIexpected my evening to go. I thought I could sit outside for a bit and try to clear my head before going to bed. It didn’t even cross my mind that he might go through my things. He had been all about privacy, but then he turned around and invaded my own. It was once again another way for him to prove that he was in control here. That even my own room wasn’t considered mine because he could go into it whenever he wanted. Things had to change, because I wasn’t going to be a prisoner in a place that was supposed to be my home. I couldn’t keep living like this, and there was no way that I was going to be able to have the chance to even think about this baby when we were constantly at war with each other.
I hated that he made some valid points. I hated that I was being forced into this position of where I was going to have to tell him what happened. Because he was right, I was putting Zoey in danger by being around her, by staying in the same place for too long. It was exactly what would happen with this baby. It was a fact that I didn’t want to face, but it was true. Chances were, I was never going to be able to have this baby. That even if I was able to make it through my pregnancy, I would never be able to have a stable home for the baby. That wasn't going to ever be my life, and that was a choice I had made five years ago.
“Maya isn’t my real name; you are correct. However, it’s a name that I have gone by for a long time. In one of my foster homes when I was ten, there was a little girl that was already living there, Kelly. She was four and she couldn’t pronounce my name. She called me Maya and it kinda stuck.”
He spoke gently as he went and sat down in the chair next to mine, “What is your name?”
“Amarya Cabot. I am twenty-five, and I did grow up in foster care and went to school for business. All of that was true. It helps to have some truth to feel like myself and to keep everything straight. Tony said the lies are what trips you up; that it was best to keep them to a minimum.”
“Tony?” he pressed.
“He was a friend. He didn’t start out that way, but he became one,” I said with a shaky voice. Thinking about Tony hurt. I didn't want to talk about him. I didn't want to think about him.
“What did he start out as?”
I closed my eyes as I took a second to get my emotions back under control. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but it was one we were going to have whether I was ready or not. After letting out a slow deep breath, I opened my eyes as I felt a hand on my knee.
“It’s okay, take your time,” he said with kind eyes.
“I had been in college for almost two years. Everything was going great. I thought I was going to be able to start my own business and have a life I had always dreamt of. I had been studying late at the library on a Wednesday night. It was almost midnight when I was walking back to my apartment a bit away from campus. I had wanted my own place, and it was cheaper to be outside of the campus radius. I figured the walk would be good for me. I was in southern California, so it wasn’t like it ever snowed or got too cold. It was just a stupid thirty-minute walk.”
That’s what it really came down to. A thirty-minute walk that changed my entire life. I thought living off campus would be nice. I would get to have my own space and not have to worry about sharing it with anyone. For the first time in my life, I wouldn't have to make compromises or worry about someone else’s emotions or opinions.
I could be free to be myself. It’s why I worked so hard between fifteen and eighteen to make enough money to have first and last month’s rent, so I could avoid living in the dorms or having to live with six other girls just to survive. I worked my ass off being in school and working twenty-five hours a week just to maintain my bills. It was all worth it though because that apartment became my sanctuary. I just never thought it would also be my undoing.
“Law enforcement classifies it as WPWT, wrong place, wrong time. I was about halfway home when I turned a corner and saw a man shooting this guy. I managed not to scream, mostly because I was in shock. The killer walked away from the scene and got into a car. He never saw me which was good because the cops believed he would have killed me to ensure no witnesses were left.
I managed to call the police, and I went over to the victim, but he was bleeding out from a shot right to the middle of his chest. It’s kind of a blur what happened next. It’s weird the things you remember clearly and the things you can’t. You would think it would be the important details. But what I remember most about right after seeing him being shot was how my hands were so sticky from his blood drying on them.”
I looked down at my hands, expecting to see them covered in blood still. For the longest time they were stained red, and I could vividly see the blood running through my finger. Bits and pieces eventually came back to me, the smaller details. I tried to slow the bleeding down; it’s how my hands got covered. I had my phone on speaker and the operator told me to keep him awake, keep him talking, to put pressure on his wound.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that. That you had to go through all of that. It had to be terrifying, and yet you still tried to save his life. You tried to do the right thing,” he said as he ran his hand over my knee.
“It didn’t matter; he died anyways. He never made it off the pavement. A patrol unit took me down to the police station where Detectives questioned me. I told them what little I knew, and they drove me home and thanked me for my co-operation. They said they might have to reach back out to me to make an ID and that would be it. I went to class the next day and tried to get back on with my life as if I hadn’t just watched someone die. The next few days are a blur. I go to class, I go home, do homework that I still don’t really remember. It was about a week later when the detectives came back with photos. They needed me to make an ID, and I did. I didn’t notice it at the time, but looking back, they were scared. They were scared for me.”
That really should have been the first red flag in all of this. The way the detectives were reacting to me. The way their tone changed from being sympathetic to being too gentle, too kind. There was even disappointment. Not that I could make the ID, but that I did. There was a small piece of them that had hoped I wouldn’t have picked him.
“Who was he?”
“They called him Diablo. He was a hitman that was hired by a cartel boss. The victim had been stealing money from the cartel as he laundered it. The cartel boss, Jose Santiago, wasn't the official cartel boss from Mexico, but he was the regional one for the West Coast. He was on everyone’s wanted list, but unofficially. They could never pin anything on him. Until I saw his hitman killing someone. My ID made it possible for them to dig into the hitman and they found his communication with Santiago. Their whole case relied on my initial ID and testimony.”
“You testified,” he said, slightly horrified, but I could see that all the pieces were falling into place within his mind.
“Threats against me came in pretty quickly. It didn't take long before Santiago had the name of the witness that the police were trying to keep under wraps. Within two weeks of the police making their arrest, they were taking me into protective custody. They decided to place me within Witness Protection. They swore it would only be until the trial, and then I could be relocated and get on with my life. That’s where I met Tony. He was the agent assigned to my protection detail.”
“It wasn't until the trial though, was it?”
“No. The trial went fairly fast, six months. Tony stayed with me the whole time. Typically, the agents stay in their own place down the street or in the same building, but I didn’t have any family. No one that could go with me. He didn’t have a wife or children. He grew up in foster care as well. We had a lot in common, and it was nice to be able to talk to someone. I was practically trapped in this house for six months. The only time I could go outside was the backyard, and Tony had to be there. He became my friend. Even after I testified, the threats against me weren’t gone. They doubled down. I was responsible for putting a deadly hitman and a cartel boss behind bars for life. All they wanted was revenge. Tony was the one to tell me that there was no going home for me.”
