“Oh, yes.  Yes I do,” Bree mumbled low.

“Yeah, actually,” I said, as I nudged Bree under the counter of the bar to shut her up,  “Do you know of any hotels or anything nearby?”

 He offered me a small sad smile. “Love, you’re in the middle of the Adirondacks.  You have one campground with a trailer park, a few ranger posts and secluded houses, that’s about it.  You both look like you need a hospital, or a cop. Not a hotel.  There’s a small town about thirty minutes drive north, where most of the people around these parts live, near the prisons, where the jobs are.”

“Yeah?  What kind of jobs can you find there?” Bree asked, completely ignoring the advice to visit a hospital and kicking me with her foot.  Oh God, she really wanted to set up camp here because of the pretty Ken Doll.  Ugh.

“Regular town jobs.  There’s the prison, a school, supermarket, library, and the local POLICE.  There’s also that hospital I mentioned, that you so sweetly ignored. Why are you asking about work? Are you girls looking for a job?” he asked, wrinkling his brow.  Crap, this did sound like the beginning of a bad horror movie…

I knew if I didn’t ask, Bree would. I could plainly see where her mind was going, right into his bed.  “Think you could use two waitresses, just for a few days a week?  My behind is way too big to jiggle up there,” I pointed to the empty stage.  “I’m Lainey, by the way.  And, this is Bree.”

“Lainey and Bree?  Are you sure you don’t want to dance?  Those names are perfect for it,” he laughed flirtatiously.  “I’m Dylan Grayson and you’re hired, but not until that, um, space alien thing you got growing on your face heals.  It’s not really working for you.  I’m sure you’re both very pretty under all that war paint.”  He flipped his bar towel over his shoulder and walked through the back door again.

“I’ve never waitressed before,” Bree sighed next to me.

“I did, for a while in high school,” I replied, finishing my drink.  “Let’s try to find a place to stay tomorrow, maybe at the trailer park, and try to get rid of that ostentatious Porsche.” I held up my shaking hands and watched my fingers tremble.  “Waitressing isn’t so bad, pretty easy once you get the hang of it.  I mean it’s not like being a neurosurgeon or anything.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, as she leaned her head on my shoulder, “and living in a trailer sounds like loads of fun.”

When our glasses were empty, Dylan walked over and slid over two refills.  He leaned his elbows against the top of the bar and smiled at Bree, “So where is it that you come from?”  I had to hand it to her, even bruised up she could get a man’s attention.  I hoped he wasn’t married.

My head softly fell against my arms and I drifted away from their conversation.  Heaviness spread across my shoulders and down both my arms, weighing me down, pulling me under like a fierce riptide drowning me, overcoming me; destroying me.

I stared blankly at Dylan’s lips as he smiled at something Bree said.  My vision blurred and I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist trying to focus on the way his accent lingered on each word, but he was just too pretty to watch.  Too bright and shiny…  “She just had a little run in with an old boyfriend, that’s all…everything is fine now…She’ll be fine…yeah, we need a place to stay…”

“Ladies room?” I asked, barely above a hoarse whisper.  Dylan stared wide-eyed into my glazed expression and quickly pointed to a back hallway.

The bar stool crashed against the floor, making a horrible clanging and banging sound as I pushed off and rushed into the hallway.  Racing into the bathroom, I locked myself into a stall and emptied my stomach into the toilet.  A cold burst of sweat broke out across my forehead and I dropped hard against my knees on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom, trying to brace myself up with violently shaking arms.

I slid down against the vileness of the cold porcelain and squeezed my eyes tightly, swallowing down the hard knot of disgust.  Panic tightened my chest into fast pounding explosions and desperation to stand up away from the dirty-filthy stench of my insides and the white watery bowl that held them was overwhelming.

Life as I knew it was over.

My life.

Over.

That woman I once was, Samantha Matthews, was gone.  Left for dead.

Everything and everyone I ever knew…Everything I had ever worked for…gone.  Just.  Like.  That.

Poof.

Gone.

What happened?

It was building like an unstoppable freight train in the pit of my stomach and I clenched my fists tight.  I couldn’t focus on clear thoughts. Frantic visions clouded my mind and my brain went off like a gunshot, fast and lethal.  Thousands of images, words, and emotions fired out of my mind like a machine gun.  Adrenaline surged through my body and my heart pounded unevenly. The dark gloves of panic gripped my entire body and squeezed.  My head hit the floor with a wet thwack, and the edges of my vision blurred like reels of an old movie.

“Fuck you, Samantha,” he says coldly, when he finds me in the living room with all my packed bags.  I won’t even face him.  I can’t look at him at all.

I choke out a laugh, “No thank you.  I don’t want to catch anything.”  Jen will be here any minute; I hope there’s no traffic.

“Samantha, you’re sick, baby.  You should have taken all your medicine,” his monotone voice drolls.

“You’re the one that’s sick…” I spin on him as he’s clamping his heavy hands around my throat, cutting off my words. Thick fingers press into the skin of my neck, crushing my esophagus.  I kick and thrash wildly, frantically clawing my way to break free.   Pure panic rushes through my throat as I gag and gasp for the air he is stealing from me. Lifting me easily off the ground, he slams my back against the bookcase, my head and shoulders landing on the spines of all my books.  Pain explodes across my body; bursts of light blurs my vision.

He’s yanking me by my hair, dragging me along the coarse carpet of the floor, burning my palms and the skin on my knees.  I pull away, digging my heels into the plush rug, but his fists just twist my hair tighter around his hand and my body lifts off the ground.  Swinging my fists out, I fiercely try to connect with his flesh, clawing and punching. 

I stopped loving him. 

When I knew what he did, it was instant.

This, this is him just getting rid of the evidence.

Images of that monster clawed their way into my skull, how could they not?  It was because of him my hands trembled so much.  It was because of him that there was death all around me.  Monster.  A fucking vicious troll; a beast who I once loved, like an evil mythical creature that lied and waited until he thought I was powerless and struck me hard and fast, like the poisonous bite of a cobra.  Deadly.

Me. Unknowing.  Foolish.

My panic turned into hysterics. Tears streaked down my cheeks, raining down on my lap.  I let myself breakdown in the solace of the small closed off room, where no one would be witness to my weakness.  Even strong people needed to break sometimes.

I didn’t cry from fear, or hurt, or pain.

I cried for Samantha Matthews, the woman that they forced me not to be.

For everything I lost.

There are only a few words I have left in my mind for them:

You never should have underestimated me.

Chapter 2

The puddle of blood that lies beneath the limp bodies of my friends is quickly spreading thickly across the floor.  There’s a heavy pool of blood in my mouth that spills out over the corner of my lips to mix with the seeping blood bath along the cold slabs of tile.  My breaths are noisy, raspy and there’s no oxygen in the room.  Did someone turn the oxygen off?  Why can’t I breathe?  Why can’t I get enough air?  I want my mum.